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train · 5.83k rows

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nx-143	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- CODE</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BLANKSTYLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2021</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Placeholder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">McD</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HarryBlank</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Based</span><span class="hl-code"> on: </span><span class="hl-identifier">Paperstack</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Penumbra</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R\</span><span class="hl-number">0026</span><span class="hl-code"> C SITE-43")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">a:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Montserrat', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.45</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Ablankstyle/</span><span class="hl-number">43</span><span class="hl-code">Head.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 707</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">posX:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">358</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#DDD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#CCC</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EEE</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CENTER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">IMAGES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ON</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">EstrellaYoshte</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PeppersGhost</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS-COLORED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABLE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVS</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D7EFE7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDABF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F5D8E0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#000</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LONGER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEN</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">THE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQUEMBOUCHE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEN</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier">FANCY</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">THINGS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woedenaz</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> -- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="TiamatPreview.png" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/TiamatPreview.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>.</p> </div> </div> </div> <div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Nx-143</strong><br/> All you need is Doug. (Doug is all you need.)</p> <img alt="Nx143.png" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/this-page-intentionally-left-blank/Nx143.png"/> <p><strong><a href="http://www.scp-wiki.net/this-page-intentionally-left-blank">More by this author!</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> </div> <div class="custom-text-wrap"> <div class="anom-bar-container item-Nx-143 clear-1 briar {$secondary-class} SCPF low {$american}"> <div class="anom-bar"> <div class="top-box"> <div class="top-left-box"><span class="item">{$item-text}</span> <span class="number">Nx-143</span></div> <div class="top-right-box"> <div class="level">LEVEL1</div> <div class="clearance">UNRESTRICTED</div> </div> </div> <div class="bottom-box"> <div class="text-part"> <div class="main-class"> <div class="contain-class"> <div class="class-category">NEXUS CLASS:</div> <div class="class-text">briar</div> </div> <div class="second-class"> <div class="class-category">{$secondary-text}</div> <div class="class-text">{$secondary-class}</div> </div> </div> <div class="disrupt-class"> <div class="class-category">AUTHORITY:</div> <div class="class-text">SCPF</div> </div> <div class="risk-class"> <div class="class-category">POPULATION:</div> <div class="class-text">low</div> </div> </div> <div class="diamond-part"> <div class="danger-diamond"><a href="/classification-committee-memo">link to memo</a><br/> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="anom-bar-container item-{$item-number} clear-1 {$container-class} {$secondary-class} {$disruption-class} {$risk-class} {$american}"> <div class="anom-bar"> <div class="top-box"> <div class="top-left-box"><span class="item">Item#:</span> <span class="number">{$item-number}</span></div> <div class="top-right-box"> <div class="level">Level1</div> </div> </div> <div class="bottom-box"> <div class="text-part"> <div class="main-class"> <div class="contain-class"> <div class="class-category">Containment Class:</div> <div class="class-text">{$container-class}</div> </div> <div class="second-class"> <div class="class-category">Secondary Class:</div> <div class="class-text">{$secondary-class}</div> </div> </div> <div class="disrupt-class"> <div class="class-category">Disruption Class:</div> <div class="class-text">{$disruption-class}</div> </div> <div class="risk-class"> <div class="class-category">Risk Class:</div> <div class="class-text">{$risk-class}</div> </div> </div> <div class="diamond-part"> <div class="danger-diamond"><a href="/classification-committee-memo">link to memo</a><br/> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="acs-extra column-1 0, 159, 107 {$class-color-2} {$class-color-3} {$class-color-4} Civilian Designation: Lake Huron Supply, Control and Purification"> <div class="acs-extra-1" style="background-color: rgba(0, 159, 107,0.15); border-left: 0.5rem solid rgba(0, 159, 107,1);"> <div class="class-category">Civilian Designation:</div> <div class="class-text">Lake Huron Supply, Control and Purification</div> </div> <div class="acs-extra-2" style="background-color: rgba({$class-color-2},0.15); border-left: 0.5rem solid rgba({$class-color-2},1);"> <div class="class-category">{$class-category-2}</div> <div class="class-text">{$class-text-2}</div> </div> <div class="acs-extra-3" style="background-color: rgba({$class-color-3},0.15); border-left: 0.5rem solid rgba({$class-color-3},1);"> <div class="class-category">{$class-category-3}</div> <div class="class-text">{$class-text-3}</div> </div> <div class="acs-extra-4" style="background-color: rgba({$class-color-4},0.15); border-left: 0.5rem solid rgba({$class-color-4},1);"> <div class="class-category">{$class-category-4}</div> <div class="class-text">{$class-text-4}</div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:700px;"><img alt="143corridor.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/143corridor.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Applied Occultism Section, Site-43.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Nexus Interaction Protocol:</strong> All personnel transferring to <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a> are to access the briefing appended below and provide the Hiring and Regulation Section with a signed affidavit acknowledging the associated Nexus effects. Regular access to compensatory anaphrodesiacs is to be provided on request by the Health and Pathology Section. A regular schedule of psychological screening and relationship counselling is to be provided by the Psychology and Parapsychology Section.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>Description:</strong> Nx-143 is SCP Foundation Research and Containment Site-43 and its immediate environs beneath the former Camp Ipperwash in Lambton County, Ontario, Canada. The area is subjected to an effect of unknown origin which dramatically alters the behaviour of Site-43 staff in regards to one another, as demonstrated by the Analytics Department figures reproduced below.</p> <div class="ad_memo"> <p>The following figures roughly illustrate the number of SCP Foundation personnel at each given facility likely to engage in serial workplace romance during the course of their employment.</p> <p><strong>Site-17:</strong> 1 in 500<br/> <strong>Site-91:</strong> 1 in 100<br/> <strong>Site-120:</strong> 1 in 50<br/> <strong>Site-19:</strong> 1 in 25<br/> <strong>Site-666:</strong> 1 in 10<br/> <strong>Site-87:</strong> 1 in 5<br/> <strong>Site-43:</strong> 1 in 2</p> <p>Site-17's figures are abnormally, but not anomalously, low; psychological assessment has fixed that facility's <a href="/site-17-hub">unique working conditions</a> as the cause. Site-87's figures are, conversely, high; the unusual <em>esprit de corps</em> experienced by its staff is the most likely explanation. Site-43's figures know no comparison across the Foundation, nor even academic workplaces outside of the Veil.</p> <p>The following figures roughly illustrate the percentage of SCP Foundation personnel at each given facility likely to experience divorce or broken marriage engagements during the course of their employment.</p> <p><strong>Site-17:</strong> 86%<br/> <strong>Site-666:</strong> 78%<br/> <strong>Site-19:</strong> 61%<br/> <strong>Site-91:</strong> 45%<br/> <strong>Site-87:</strong> 43%<br/> <strong>Site-120:</strong> 38%<br/> <strong>Site-43:</strong> 12%</p> <p>The figures for most facilities are slightly higher than the average for the nation in which they are situated, due likely to the stress associated with Foundation work. Site-666's figures are related to its situation in the City of Las Vegas. Site-87's lower figures are again explainable by its unique staffing situation. Site-43's figures are among the lowest in the western world.</p> </div> <p>Further analysis has shown that Site-43's per capita romantic statistics are universally far above or below the norm, a phenomenon not limited to long-term personnel. It has therefore been treated as a <em>de facto</em> Nexus since 1986, and simple ameliorative measures have been put in place and maintained. The most notable of these is the provision of Situationally Compensatory Anaphrodesiacs (SCAs), pharmaceuticals inhibiting sexual desire above a specific target level. This level is determined by dosage and set by the patient themselves, after monitoring to determine their baseline standard drive variation.</p> <p>As Site-43 exists within the bounds of the existing Nx-94 aboveground, the presence of an additional Nexus was initially discounted. On 02/03/2023, however, the Department of Nexology finally authorized a full workup of the tentatively-classified Nx-143 belowground. Their report has not yet been declassified, but the result was confirmation that the Nexus is indeed legitimate and maintenance efforts must continue as outlined above.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div style='background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-great-hippo/scp_trans.png") center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);'> <h1 id="toc0"><span><span style="color:#FF5C48">DR. PHILIP VERHOTEN</span></span></h1> <hr/> <h3 id="toc1"><span>THE REMAINDER OF THIS FILE IS YOUR-EYES-ONLY UNTIL ITS CONTENTS ARE CONFIRMED. ONCE CONFIRMATION IS RECEIVED, IT WILL BE SYNTHESIZED INTO AN EXECUTIVE SUMMARY AND LOWER SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL BRIEFING PACKET.</span></h3> </div> </div> <div class="interview"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span>Preface: Report Premise and Auditor Introduction</span></h2> </div> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="Auditors.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Auditors.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Junior Researchers Qadir and Kárpáthy.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> Please introduce yourselves.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I'm Basil Qadir. I'm pursuing a doctorate in Nexology with Dr. Verhoten as my supervisor. I transferred from Site-36 where I was a research assistant in the Cultural Practices Workgroup, looking into how belief shapes practice in reality-shifted environments.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Hi, Basil! I'm Eszter Kárpáthy, also pursuing a doctorate in Nexology. I do distance ed from Site-228 in Hungary. I was the admin assistant for a team studying the Upper World Confluence outside of Budapest, so I've been in a Nexus before, if only on the outskirts.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Firsthand experience. I'm jealous.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Mostly paperwork, and a lot of it.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> You'll both be getting a lot of experience, and doing a lot of paperwork, very soon. I want you to conduct an official review for the putative Nx-143, one of the oldest unresolved cases on our departmental docket. It was considered low priority for years due to its low impact, but since new Nexus formation has slowed down in the wake of the <a href="/scp-6500">Impasse</a> and the slow but gradual rebound, now's the time to get it squared away. You'll be my eyes and ears; review the existing records, schedule interviews, assemble your data, test existing theories and suggest new ones to fit your findings. You will be expected to reach a verdict at the end of this review.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Why aren't you going yourself, sir?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yeah, I thought this was one of your pet projects?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> The boss won't let me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What, the Department head?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> No.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> The O5s?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> No.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Ohhhhh.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Still don't get it.</p> </div> <p>Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir were assigned dormitory space at Site-43 adjoining a workroom for use in holding their interviews and preparing their reports. A transcript digest is presented below; though over two hundred personnel at Site-43 were consulted, only the most generative interviews from each day of research have been excerpted. Each interview is immediately followed by the <em>post hoc</em> analysis conducted by the Junior Researchers together.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 1 of 10: 02/05/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Dr. Brenda Corbin (Theology and Teleology, former; PoI-5866)<br/> <a href="/scp-5866">SCP-5866</a></p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> Dr. Brenda Corbin was Deputy Chair of Theology and Teleology at Site-43 between 2014 and 2021. In January of 2021 she collaborated with her Chair in the drafting of the SCP-5866 database file, and for that purpose engaged in frequent interviews with its subject: the sapient remains of an entity claiming to be the ancient Babylonian deity Tiamat, and occasionally the fictional figure of the same name featured in the Forgotten Realms setting of <em>Dungeons and Dragons.</em> Dr. Corbin used this opportunity to return the subject to life, and escaped Site-43 in its company. The pair remain at large, having only been sighted <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500/offset/2">once</a> since their initial disappearance.</p> <p>An extensive review of Dr. Corbin's research files subsequent to the events recounted above yielded the following unpublished interview with SCP-5866, potentially relevant to the topic of Nx-143. Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir examined the transcript prior to undertaking their own schedule of interviews.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Corbin.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Corbin.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Corbin, c. 2021.</p> </div> </div> <p><em><The time is 23:16 EST. SCP-5866's remains, a large quantity of fossilized sea serpent bone, are suspended over the floor of a containment chamber in a transparent box of shatterproof glass. Dr. Corbin enters the containment chamber, in casual dress. She locks the door behind her.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Good evening, Brenda.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> How can you tell what time it is?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> This place is far lonelier when the sun hides its face, even so deep beneath the earth.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> New question. How can you tell we're underground?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I can feel the memory of one I once knew. I am closer to them here. It is not unpleasant. Perhaps a little.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> You're really in the habit of answering questions with question-prompting answers, eh.</p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin sits down on the floor, back to the wall, and looks up at SCP-5866.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> You are not meant to be here so late in the day. That's what you told me.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Yeah, well, rank and age hath their privileges, you know?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I do know. I am a goddess from time immemorial.</p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Is that amusing?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> It's just… it's nice that you know who and what you are, even in that state.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Everything is transitory, Brenda. Nothing lasts forever. Not even Babylon.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> I can't sleep. You ever have that problem?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Sometimes. I once slept for millennia, you know. But now, I am always awake.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Why's that, you figure?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I suppose it is having someone to talk to.</p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Maybe that's my problem too. What should we talk about, Tiamat?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Perhaps we could talk about love.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Have I broken some taboo?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> No, of course not. You just caught me off guard, is all!</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Then I would like to talk about love. You do not need to be guarded with me.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> That's the opposite of the truth. You're an unclassed SCP object with psychic powers.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Are you afraid of me?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> No, and that's one strike against my objectivity right there.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I envy you any objectivity you might possess. I possess none.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> What do you mean?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> My memories are subjective. They are mutable, and I do not know by what force they are changed. I am not in control of what I am.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Relatable.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Is it? Then we should continue our relating. If I tell you what I know of love, will you reciprocate?</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> I will… consider.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Then I shall offer you my testimony in a gesture of faith. Faith in our friendship.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> I appreciate it.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> My first love was Apsu, the waters of the deep earth, the waters now encircling us dead and asleep and forgotten, though not by me. They were veiled, and rich in the stuff of life, and I desired very much to commingle with them. I myself was the waters of the sea, rich in salt and violence.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Violence?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Creation is violence, and I was to be the mother of creation. I loved Apsu as my counterpart, my equal, the other half to our whole, and where we made contact between the shore and soil we mixed, became one, and then many as I was fertilized with their essence.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Pretty racy stuff. You say you loved Apsu?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I believe that I did. They provided me many young.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> That's just mechanics. Reproduction isn't love.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Our children were the reflection of our selves, both. Reflecting the waters which birthed them, our differences and our meeting. That was the second of three signs that I had loved my mate, with whom I had created these creatures, these smaller gods. I grieved to see the reflection of Apsu, and to know thereby their absence in the world without. For they were lost, my mate, as soon our children too would be.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> I can understand… some of that.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Can you?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Just a little. Uh… you lost Apsu. How did that happen?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> They became afeared of their children, and our children of them in return. Apsu was slain in the conflict between them.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> That's terrible.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> It is godly. But I was furious, and inconsolate, and that was the first sign that what I had known was love.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Losing it.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Losing the one I had loved. The love itself remained, directionless, without a focus. I turned it to rage against these reflections which had turned against their source. I took a new mate from amongst my children—</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Sorry, what?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> It is godly. I took a new mate, and together we filled all the world with monsters, and slew in droves the remembrance of Apsu.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Your children.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Didn't you love them, too?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> So, what? Killing them was… godly?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> No. It was grief.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> In that grief, which yet remains, I know that I loved my children just as I had loved that which spawned them within me.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> I lost a child once.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> You?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Yes. A long, long time ago. When I was a very different person. Before this place.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Did you slay them in a wrathful vengeance?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> No. I… I was sick. I couldn't handle the strain. There wasn't even a choice to be made, not by anyone. The matter settled itself. I lived, and… yeah. Millions of years of evolution, and childbirth still isn't a sure thing. So much for intelligent design, you know?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I am truly sorry. I would have designed it better.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Thanks. I know you would have. I'm sorry for you, as well.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> It is alright. I made new children again, when I shed the aspect of the serpent of the salt sea and entered into the pantheon of the Nine Hells. I took mates from among the chromatic broods of winged dragons, and again let loose my progeny on a world reborn anew.</p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Did I say something amusing?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Sorry. It's just that from my perspective, you're kind of… mixing the streams.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> The mixing of the streams is in my nature. You might call it my purpose, destined and divine. Salt to ground water.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> I'm pretty salty myself.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Do you think so? I find you very fresh indeed.</p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Were I still the ocean, and you the waters of the earth, I would gladly take you into myself and bear you a host of young.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Have I caused offence?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Nnnnnno, no, of course not. I'm… flattered, though, ah… thank you?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> You are welcome, though I wonder if I might have spoken rashly. The third sign lives within me, always.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> What's the third sign?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> The loneliness that tells you that once, you possessed, and once, you were possessed yourself. The memory of having had.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin stands. She activates a control panel near the door; the box is lowered to the floor. She walks over to the box, sits down, and leans her back against it.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> We are alike, Brenda, in many ways. We are neither of us the beings we once were; torn between iterations, seeking balance.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Reflections.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Precisely.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Well, uh, hey, while we're offering zero risk compliments: if you were a woman, and not a box full of psychic bones, I'd definitely go out for a beer with you.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> It is settled, then.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> The Babylonians invented beer. It will be an honour to share in the bounty of my people with you, drinking in their memory and to our health.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Yeah. Our health.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> But, uh. You're… uh.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Yes?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> How does a dragon…?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Oh! How does a dragon drink beer?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Right, yes. That.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> I have taken the aspect of woman as my avatar many times, Brenda. You know this, surely.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> Yeah. Uh, right. Of course, you have.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> In this guise I am tall, and lithe, with hair of jet and—</p> <p><em><Dr. Corbin coughs.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> You may retract your offer, if you now regret it.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Corbin:</strong> No. Uh, no. That's… well, it's all strictly theoretical anyway. Not like you're about to leap out of that box full-formed or anything, right?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> That is true.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5866:</strong> Though it is agreeable to have a reason.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:500px;"><img alt="Tiamat.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Tiamat.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>SCP-5866, containment breach.</p> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh, my god, this transcript.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> No surprise she left it out of the file.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Can you imagine getting to the point where you're so frustrated with your life that you're willing to throw it all away for a stranger?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> More like a <em>strangest.</em> Depressing just to think about. Of course, we think Corbin was sick. Her judgement might have been impaired.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I dunno, she seems plenty sharp in the 5866 file. I think she knew precisely what she was doing. There might have been some anomalous influence, however, I'm not disputing that. She <em>was</em> talking to a goddess, or at least a thoughtform in the shape of one.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Or, considering there's no sign that 5866 made any effort to corrupt anyone else, it might actually have been the effect we've been sent to investigate. Bringing them together. Romantically.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes, and looks away. Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Hey, sorry. But how'd you pull this assignment if you're shy about that kind of thing?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I'm not shy! It's just… maybe dragon girlfriends are a bit out of my zone of experience, you know?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Fair enough. Now… I <em>am</em> a bit surprised on how fast the turnaround was. It took less than two weeks for Corbin to go from Deputy Chair to dragon rider. Did she take the anaphrodesiacs, do we know?</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy shuffles her notes.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yes. In fact, she had a baseline comparison and dosage check towards the end of the project… the day after this extra log, in fact. At her own request, if I'm reading this right.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> So, she suspected she was under some sort of compulsion.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I guess.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And she ran with it anyway?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Like we said, hard to imagine. Desperate times, I guess?</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 2 of 10: 02/06/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Chief Hachiro Kuroki (Security and Containment)<br/> Dr. Xinyi Du (Quantum Supermechanics)</p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> Chief Kuroki and Dr. Du offered the same very narrow scheduling window, and required that their interviews take place in their respective offices. They were therefore interviewed by only one of Junior Researcher Kárpáthy and Junior Researcher Qadir each.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpts begin.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Kuroki.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Kuroki.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Chief Kuroki.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You've been Chief of Security and Containment here for over two years, is that correct?</p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> And you've been briefed on the possibility that there's a Nexus overlapping the Site's footprint, right?</p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Do you believe it?</p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> No.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Uh, why not?</p> <p><em><Chief Kuroki shrugs.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> Not enough evidence.</p> <hr/> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Du.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Du.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Du.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> Oh, I have no doubt. No doubt at all. Outside the Veil this is considered pure bunk, of course, but quantum entanglement as applied to romance has produced very significant, replicable findings, if you take my meaning.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Uh…</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> I didn't observe this myself, of course, but an easy example is the recent trouble with Agent Azarola. Did you hear about that?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> It hasn't come up in my research.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> Alright, well, here's the short version. Azarola was sent on an infiltration mission to a Chaos Insurgency Firebase, one of the few still operating at full efficiency after the whole <a href="/scp-7000">SCP-7000</a> fiasco. Their equipment force multiplier was through the roof due to military paratech sourced from old Prometheus Labs contacts, and Azarola was tapped for a sabotage mission. He goes in via HALO jump, right, then bypasses the on-site security with a FAZER.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> A phaser?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> A FAZER, yeah, just like the ones our guards use for neutralizing electronic anomalies in a containment breach. The old RATTLER models were more energy efficient but they had really poor range, and the tooling was very superficial because of weight concerns, so all the joes hated using them. FAZERs are pocket-sized, and one unit can take out a whole bank of cameras. So he goes in, right, Azarola? Equipment is source-on-site, because in case he gets caught they don't want to lose Foundation tech to the CI, and he takes out the first guard he finds. First guard he finds? Using a Finder FP12. Useless. Next guard? Same deal. Turns out the entire Firebase is using FP12s.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And that's bad?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> Yes, that's bad! The FP12 is a fingerprinting gun. You can't take off the safety without the right fingerprint. The CI has <em>never</em> used these before, so far as we know, and Azarola has no relevant technical training. So our guy is stuck having to trek across this firebase, stealth-killing all these insurgents — only he's the insurgent, obviously, in this case — with his garrote instead of picking up a pistol. Eventually he finds himself facing down half a dozen armed men, and he knows he has to make this work. So he breaks into the machine shop, and goes to town on the guns. Tries to brute force the mechanism.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Which obviously doesn't work.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> Which obviously <em>shouldn't</em> work! But it does, because back at Site-43, Azarola's training partner, Darzi? In the machine shop, doing a teardown on one of our own fingerprint verification models.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Like… coincidentally?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> Nope. She's a trained expert in field teardowns, she's on the Red Team and everything, and she's thinking about her partner and how worried she is that he won't come back, and she just suddenly feels like she needs to go into the shop and pull apart one of her JTX9s models, from first principles. Slowly. Deliberately. And the JTX9s, of course, is the nearest Foundation equivalent to the FP12.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Well, of course.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You used to work at Site-79, right? There was a Nexus there. Is that experience leading you to doubt the existence of another one here?</p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Do you have any insights about Nx-58 that could help us to better understand Nx-143?</p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> No.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> Sorry.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Uh, have you… do you know of any romantic anomalies? Anomalous events linked to romance, occurring at Site-43?</p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> No.</p> <p><em><Chief Kuroki considers.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> Oh! Yes! There was the quantum superposition incident just before I started here — a statistical outlier, scientifically inexplicable. They're still not sure of the precise 'mechanics' involved, if you take my meaning, but the details are essentially this: a researcher in string theory and nonequilibrium control with Level 3 credentials arrived at Quantum Supermechanics, right, and everyone assumed he was just a visiting fellow. This guy had articles in the Journal of Applied and Computational Mathemetics, right, and the impact factor on that one is out of this world. He seemed legit. So he starts chatting up this other researcher, who's an expert in special relativity and parallel branching, and they really hit it off. I mean <em>really</em> hit it off. This guy knows all the right things to say, he's up on all the literature she's into, he suggests they have lunch together like it's no big deal, even suggests plans for the symposium on algorithmic encryption at Site-15 a few weeks down the line. She agrees. But then the old Chief of S&C shows up, <em>does not recognize the guy,</em> and takes him into custody. Standard protective measures for an interrogation of this nature involve the deployment of SRAs, to stabilize local reality. Poof! As soon as they switch it on, the guy straight up disappears. Thin air. Records check turns up nada, this fellow never even existed so far as we can tell. We call up Temporal Anomalies, ask them to check the Multi-Foundation contacts, and sure enough they discover this guy is from an alternate reality entirely. Experiment in wave-particle duality went horribly wrong, quantum superimposed him into the nearest compatible state, which was our universe — because the researcher he was chatting up? His wife, in the other timeline. She was acting as his quantum anchor without even knowing about it, without even having <em>met</em> the guy. It's a real shame, too, because there's a critical complexity class he was supposedly about to work on that would really help the superpolynomial time group meet their last deadline.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Kuroki:</strong> What?</p> <hr/> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> And what happens next? At the Firebase?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Azarola figures out—</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> <em>Azarola figures out how to tear down the FP12 and reconstruct it with the fingerprint scanner bypassed.</em> Precisely. Talk about something spooky going on! As soon as I heard that story, I knew how it'd happened. Quantum entanglement. Those two were so close, for so long, so <em>simpatico,</em> that they picked up… no, not even that. They <em>became</em> so close, <em>because</em> their quantum states were so dependent. Generated that way, multiversally. We're not talking entanglement in the traditional physics sense, of course, but they haven't developed new terms for this yet in romantic quantum studies.</p> <p><em><Dr. Du smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> So yeah, a little romantic subconscious quantum knowledge transference, a few gunshots, some amatol charges on a time fuse, and one Fulton pickup later, our man is leaving the exploding Firebase behind him and heading for home, where he'll get married to Darzi in less than a month. Now they're both working as TDOs in S&C.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> TDO?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Du:</strong> Training Development Officer, obviously.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Right. Obviously.</p> <p><em><Excerpts end.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> So, guess what.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> They're dating.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> How'd you figure it out?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> When my taciturn security guard interviewee suddenly started squeeing about quantum physics, I got a pretty clear picture.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Wow, really? Well, you should have heard Du. He regaled me for twenty minutes with stories about specific advances in taser technology, sniper scopes, and two-factor authenticator door locks, then got <em>really upset</em> when I asked him if he was a military enthusiast. Told me the closest he'd ever gotten to firing a gun was playing <em>Half-Life</em> at a LAN party.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Kuroki gave me a very detailed description of the 'vacuum catastrophe' which I would not be able to recite back to you if I tried. Maybe not even with the transcript in hand.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Amazing. But hey, good job figuring it out.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Would've been hard not to, but back at you.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I guess it was on my mind because something similar happened to me, once.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh yeah?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yeah, I was… there was this woman I was seeing, right? She was into Sarkicism, big time. I couldn't care less about it, but I was really into <em>her,</em> so I spent so much time researching the topic that I found myself talking about it with any random person I met in my day-to-day. All that stuff got stuck in my head, and I couldn't stop it leaking out.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Mm, I dunno if it's that entirely with these two. I think they're just really, legitimately listening to each other, and enjoying the ways in which they're different. It's like they each think the other one's job is… I dunno, kind of cute?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Cute security work.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Cute quantum mechanics.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Do we think this is anomalous?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Maybe not on the face of things; they both take the anaphrodesiacs, of course. But they have so little time to see each other, and so little schedule overlap… they apparently met at the Christmas party last year, and it was immediately electric.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Bit suspicious.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yeah, I dunno. Sometimes it happens like that.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I suppose.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> So, did the woman you were dating start picking up your interests too?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Nope, never did.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I'm sorry to hear that. I've been through some rough stuff with my own relationships, so it's kind of been nice seeing how things work here. You know?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yeah, I hear you. People sharing interests, experiences, goals, you don't often see that at the Foundation.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I knew it'd never work out when she refused to go find-diving in the local thrift store with me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh, shit, you do thrifting? There's a vintage shop in Grand Bend, I looked it up before the flight in.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You ever hear of quantum entanglement?</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 3 of 10: 02/07/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Dr. Nhung Ngo (Psychology and Parapsychology)</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Ngo.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Ngo.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Ngo.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Thanks for agreeing to meet with us, doctor.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> Happy to help. Let me preface, though: I won't be talking about my patients by name, not without an Overwatch order.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> General impressions will be fine.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Before that, though: do you think there's an anomalous romantic force operating on Site-43?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> In a word, yes. In more than one word, it gets very complicated very fast.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Go on.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> Very few people at this facility stay single for any great length of time. When they break up, it's usually amicable. There aren't a lot of big blowups, messy divorces, that sort of thing. From this you might deduce that something is pushing people into starting, committing to, and staying in romantic relationships.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Right.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> But the <em>specifics</em> of those relationships? They're not particularly unusual. These people bicker with their partners, exhibit jealousy, use up prophylactics at a rate comparable to, say, Site-87—</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Wait.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> Yes?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What's this about comparable condom use?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> The Analytics Department did a study with the Department of Psychology a few years back, showed pretty conclusively that people engage in romantic or sexual dalliances more often at the Sites where they can avoid the messier elements of Foundation life. The ones where the job is cleaner. There's never been D-class at 43, and there haven't been any at 87 for years. Stronger ties to the local communities, who get exploited less. None of those anomalies with the really unfortunate, morally repugnant containment procedures. People here can feel pretty good about their work, as long as they stay properly focused on what's in front of them, and that has a measurable effect on libido. So, within those constraints, I wouldn't say individual actors engage in more… <em>play,</em> than they would elsewhere. There's just a lot more of them doing it.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> So whatever it is, it <em>is</em> pushing them together, but it's not altering the nature of their relationships once established?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> That's about the size of it, from my perspective.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Isn't it an efficiency problem? Everyone always screwing around?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> Quite the opposite. Emotional or sexual repression kills productivity. Regular release is a net benefit for everyone, so long as the proper precautions are taken.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You mean condoms.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> I meant being honest and generous with your partners.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> If you don't mind my asking, have you felt the push yourself?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> Yes, from time to time. I like to stay active, so when my appointment schedule is clear — a Site psychologist's schedule is never clear outside of Site-43, so I'm lucky in that regard — I usually go for a walk. When I'm single, I find myself walking towards people I find romantically compatible. When I'm with someone, my path tends to lead me in their direction. Without my exerting any conscious thought on the matter.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That's interesting. Any notable examples?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> Two. Christmas, 1997, I ended up in bed with Daniil Sokolsky. He's one of our resident genius mad scientists. Reprehensible morals, infuriatingly smug, whip-smart, always just barely on the right side of things in the final analysis. I got an absolute whopper of an aura migraine at the party, and he carried me to Health and Pathology and stayed with me until I came around again. He offered to walk me back to my room; I counteroffered walking back to his.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That's a pretty cute story.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> The next day he crushed his research assistant's legs with the moving stacks in the A&R library and wiggled the controls until the guy told him who he was selling their research material to.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> He wanted to know, because he'd been feeding the guy false research for a week and he wanted to see whether the exploding hovercrafts were going to MC&D or the Insurgency. So he could be watching when they exploded. For entertainment value, and to put on his CV.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Jesus Christ.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> The point is, good behaviour can be very attractive, especially when it's unexpected. Pretty much all good behaviour is unexpected at the Foundation, and it happens here more often than elsewhere. QED.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What was your other example?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> I slept with Lillihammer once because she wished me a happy birthday.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Huh?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Ngo:</strong> She only ever remembers Dr. Blank's birthday, because they were born on the same day. I was very impressed.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> It can't be as simple as "our people are nicer to each other."</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> No, it really can't. It's definitely interesting that the force merely impels, though, instead of continuing to act on people after the fact. Why would it work that way?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I don't know. Maybe it <em>is</em> still acting on them, but they're all being so sickeningly nice to each other that it counteracts the positive effect.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Sorry, that probably sounded weird.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> It <em>definitely</em> sounded weird. Do you not like people being nice to you?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yeah, not particularly? It always feels so fake. I like a good insult now and then, you know?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I fold up like a lawn chair when people insult me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Ha, seriously? What a wuss!</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Qadir blushes.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh, no way. You're seriously that easy?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Maybe I wasn't expecting you to be such a yappy little terrier after that shrinking violet routine earlier.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I am going to bully you now.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> For research purposes?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Sure, whatever excuse works.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 4 of 10: 02/08/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Dr. Lillian Lillihammer (Memetics and Countermemetics)</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="LillihammerNew.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nx-143/LillihammerNew.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Lillihammer.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> So, sex Nexus.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Uh, yeah.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Sexus.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yeah. Well, it's more of a romance thing, we think.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Not for me it isn't.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Right, seems like you're pretty…</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Thanks!</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> …pretty <em>active,</em> even by local standards. Rarely anything long term, though, minus a blip or two.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> I do have my fun.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Who with?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> People who aren't idiots or ugly.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> No ugly idiots. Right.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> You're missing the nuance. Not ugly <em>or</em> idiots. Parallel standards. No brainless butterflies. No brilliant butterfaces.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Jeez.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> So it's a matter of calculation for you? Just romantic arithmetic? Doesn't leave a lot of room for anomalous influence.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You don't think your popularity among the staff is due to any external factors? Because from what I've seen, you're <em>very</em> popular.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Nah, it's all me. If there's a Nexus here, all it does is shuffle the deck, move people around until they bump into each other and then bump uglies. Once they're in <em>my</em> orbit, six feet three inches of awesome does the rest.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> That seems a little arrogant.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> It was meant to seem a lot arrogant. It plays well with the crowd I'm aiming for. Maybe I should've mentioned my deep blue eyes, my gigantic brain, my silky white hair and my ability to melt people's brains into jelly with a single word?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Let's talk about that, actually. You're a memeticist, and also I believe a cryptomancer?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Yeah. They're gonna wipe that particular memory once you're done this assignment, by the way.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What if there's a memetic force acting on the people who work here? Shuffling the deck, as you put it, causing them to seek each other out?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> No, it isn't memetic.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> How do you know?</p> <p><em><Dr. Lillihammer stares at Junior Researcher Kárpáthy.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Okay <em>yes,</em> but I mean <em>specifically in this case</em> how do you know?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Because I can still feel the push in my memetic decontamination tunnel, and nothing memetic or cryptomantic can get in there except me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What sort of thing might bypass it?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Lillihammer:</strong> Off the top of my head? Ontokinetics.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I wonder if there's anything to that. Reality bending.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I dunno. Most ontokinetics is geared toward dramatic physical change, not… is this coffee for me?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yeah, I heard you coming and going a lot last night. Figured you could use a boost.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Thanks. Yeah. I couldn't sleep, so I took a page from Ngo's book and went for a walk. Several walks. Thought I might…</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Thought you might end up somewhere interesting?</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yeah, maybe. But I just kept finding myself back at our rooms.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Maybe someone else was getting their deck shuffled already. Stole your turn.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yeah, maybe.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 5 of 10: 02/09/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> All-Sections Chief</p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> The All-Sections Chief has no up-to-date low clearance photograph on file due to their dual role in Foundation service and the public eye.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Thanks for making the time, we know you're very busy.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> It's right up my alley, I couldn't very well pass.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Let's talk about that. Outside of managing Sectional interactions, your primary portfolio is Nexus Affairs. How would you characterize the existing one? Nx-94?</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> I would characterize it as a misclassification. Many of the people of the Great Lakes remember the stories of their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and so on, and in remarkably precise detail. That's what happens when you build a society around speech, instead of writing: you become very good at speaking precisely, and accurately. Those stories retain a life of their own through the power of oral transmission, but also their continuing relevance to our everyday lives. That's why there are so many mythological creatures walking these fields and forests. A true Nexus represents a <em>genius loci</em>, a geographical anomaly with either intentionality or underlying logic determining what manifests there. Nx-94 is simply what you get when a series of coherent people occupy a series of coherent spaces for a very, very long time, and the spaces respond in sympathy to the changes in their lives.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Could that be what's happening in this possible second Nexus? Unbroken occupancy by randy researchers for decades? Reaching out to each other?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Making a home for themselves which unconsciously reflects their needs?</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> I doubt it.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Why?</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Because the sheer variety of peoples in this space would mitigate against such a specific cultural outgrowth. We at Site-43 are united ideologically to some degree, and by our diversity to a high degree, but the force of all our different perspectives otherwise would be unlikely to produce such a clear and targeted effect. More likely it would bounce around like a pingpong ball.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What <em>would</em> produce an effect like this, then? For example, ah…</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Yes?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> My supervisor has a theory.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Oh, dear. Is your supervisor Dr. Verhoten?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> He thinks the night panthers that once roosted in the caves where we built the Site imbued it with reproductive energy, as I recall.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> That's about the size of it.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> I have a document which speaks to that. I'll see you receive a copy.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Fair enough.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> We do have a more personal question for you, if that's alright.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Of course.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Your own orientation. You haven't filled it out on your personnel dossier, and you also haven't checked off 'Prefer not to respond'.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> That checkbox is, of course, meaningless. The Foundation's laudably <em>laissez-faire</em> approach to identity doesn't extend to letting one go undocumented. The box might as well be labelled "Make us figure it out ourselves, by spying."</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Well? What do the spies say about me? I'm curious.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That's… actually what they say.</p> <p><em><The All-Sections Chief laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> No discernable pattern to my romantic activities, yes?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That's right. Random phases with long droughts in between.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> It's a product of my upbringing. I'll spare you the details — they're a matter of public record already — but suffice to say I've never been able to reconcile all of my life's experiences.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Trauma?</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Yes. I attended a residential school in the north, in my youth.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:500px;"><img alt="Res.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Res.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Providence Mission Indian Residential School.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh. I'm very sorry. If you don't want—</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> It was my choice to broach the subject. In any case my testimony was made already to the <a href="https://www.rcaanc-cirnac.gc.ca/eng/1450124405592/1529106060525">Truth and Reconciliation Commission</a>. The point is that my identity is a lifelong project, and I may not see it completed in my lifetime.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> They do say you're very close with the Director.</p> <p><em><The All-Sections Chief smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> Allan and I have an understanding. We're both set apart from the others, by nature of both our stations and situations. I think that might be the most obvious proof of the power of this Nexus, if it does exist, that I can give you.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What do you mean?</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> That we are encouraged to work through the questions of our selves, here, together. That this place brings us together in ways which the personnel manuals do not specify, and that our people welcome contact with one another, even encourage it. There is a sense of acceptance not shared by all facilities of this size.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yes, I was pleasantly surprised to see the Pride flag in the Site's icon. I'm surprised the Foundation allowed such an overt display of ideological support.</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> You'd be more surprised if you looked into it further.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Why?</p> <p><strong>All-Sections Chief:</strong> I don't mean to be rude, but we've reached the time I allotted for this meeting. I will have Ms. Ferber fetch the document I mentioned, and you may contact her with any followup questions you might have at a later date.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That was so embarrassing.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Why?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I mentioned the logo without knowing the history behind it. I missed something. I feel like an imbecile.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You? I've known you less than a week and I can already tell you're a hell of a lot smarter than I am. I've seen those files you keep referring to. You did an obscene amount of prep work.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You know who does a lot of prep work? People who can't rely on their brains on the fly.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> It is my professional opinion that you are a genius, and I will take personal offence if you disagree with that assessment.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy sighs, and smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That's lovely, but if I'm so smart, why are we so far into this project with no clear sense of whether the Nexus is even legit or not?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> That's on both of us, Eszter. Do you think I'm an idiot?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Of course not! I read that paper you wrote about applying speedrun theory to <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nx-58">Yumegēmu</a>, it was brilliant.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Oh, wow. I didn't think anybody outside of my committee saw that one.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> So fine, I don't mean there's anything we're doing wrong, <em>per se.</em> It's just that the evidence we're collecting all seems so… muddled. Everybody's got a different, conflicting explanation for what's going on here.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Maybe a throughline will present itself before the end.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Or maybe it's Dr. Verhoten's cat theory!</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy chuckles.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I happen to like his cat theory.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 6 of 10: 02/10/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Kishkedee, Ojibwe elder</p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong> Subject was one of several indigenous spokespersons for the Indian Reserves within Nx-94 to be made aware of Site-43 and its command structure. Site Director V.L. Scout made infrequent consultations with said spokespersons; this is a record of one such consultation, with Ojibwe elder Kishkedee, in 1989. (Kishkedee died the following year. Director Scout retired from the SCP Foundation in 1996 and replaced by Director McInnis, dying of advanced old age in 1997.)</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> It's good to see you again. I'm surprised you're still amenable.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Why wouldn't I be? I'm no more important than anyone else around here.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> That's hardly true. You're the memory of a generation.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Oh, I think perhaps you've been misled all these years. I've forgotten most of what I once knew by now. I've passed the stories on to the next generation, and they will pass them on again when I am gone. Their minds are pliable and sharp, while mine turns slowly to mush. I can forget in comfort, knowing that they will remember for me. If you've come for the authoritative version, well, that simply isn't how this works.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> I think you know enough to answer a simple question. You're not as senile as you pretend.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> And you're older than you look. What ever happened to your partner? The barrel-chested Welshman. You were inseparable, I remember.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Oh. I'm very sorry. You see? Senility. So, what brings you out of your hole, Director Scout?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> It's nice to get out and meet the locals every once in a while. It can be a very lonely hole.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Occupied by lonely men who don't habitually make social calls.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Fine, I'll cut to the chase. You remember that we call this land a Nexus, yes? For its unique properties?</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Yes, I recall your reductive cataloguing.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> We suspect there's another forming beneath the park, where the Site is located. Imbuing the caves with a sort of… romantic aura.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Delightful.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> It's been suggested there may be some connection to <a href="/scp-5494">SCP-5494</a>.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Refresh my memory.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> The… water panthers.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Mishipeshu.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Right. One of our experts thinks they used to breed in the tunnels we widened out to live in, and this turned the entire area into a sort of… ideal type breeding ground.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><em><Kishkedee laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> I'm sorry, are you serious?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Well, again, that isn't how it works. Not at all. How many of your staff have been drawn from my people?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Depending on how you judge that, fewer than half a dozen.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> And you imagine our myths are interacting with you?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> 5494 certainly <em>interacted</em> with us quite a bit in the 1940s.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> Yes, and they behaved in a way we have never seen, before or since. Because you are a foreign element to them, because you are a foreign element to us.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> We've been here for decades.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> We've been here since the beginning. We are <em>from</em> here. You are not. Your roots lie elsewhere.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Roots. The roots of your communities run deep, as you say. Are you sure that's not what we're encountering? Some societal, cultural <em>something</em> seeping deep into the soil?</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> If our culture could seep into the soil, Vivian, your government wouldn't have tried to stamp us out. They would have known the futility of it. Your explorers would not have imagined this land empty, or tried to render it so.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> How long was humanity parted, by your reckoning?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> You mean, between the land bridge migration and contact?</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> As you term it, yes.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> About fourteen thousand years.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> During which peoples on this continent, and most others, developed sophisticated societal practices and civilizations of profound variety?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Right.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> What makes you think you have even the flimsiest frame of reference for something that's been in progress for fourteen thousand years, coming in as you did in the last few hundred? At the tail end?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> Fine, but—</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> I have been called <em>ikwekaazo.</em> Do you know what that means?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Scout:</strong> It speaks to your identity. I won't get it right if I try to explain it back to you. But I have an identity of my own… you mentioned my partner. He was a lot more than that, Kishkedee, and it would utterly baffle a great many of my colleagues if they knew. But that experience? It's more than a little ethnically transferable. I've seen scientific evidence for that.</p> <p><strong>Kishkedee:</strong> I do not doubt you. And you should not doubt me when I say that my experience is <em>not</em> transferable. You not only would misunderstand it, you could never hope to experience it. It is bound up with who I am, and who my people were, and who my people <em>are.</em> Your colleagues would be aghast at what you are? Mine help to define what I am. My person is a constellation of my own indwelling spirit, the choices I have made, the recognition of my community, and other things I cannot begin to explain to you. There isn't even a consensus about it across the different nations. We don't even have one single accepted term for it yet, and might never, and this is something we have lived with for generations. My identity is inherently Ojibwe, and it is closed to you. That is just one example of what I mean, Vivian. Your people have stolen and appropriated so much, for so long, but these things you cannot possess. Whatever is happening down there, the ghosts of our past and present are not responsible. Yours are.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Special pleading.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Go on?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> "My position is unique, and yours isn't, and I can't explain why." Just a technique for shutting down debate. Verhoten's theory makes perfect sense! The water cats are <em>cats.</em> They mate in the warm dark. The caves around 43 are warm and dark as you like, I can even show you! Security will arrange a tour of the outer membrane, if we ask. And you can't tell me that millennia of myth monsters mating in a cave isn't going to make some meaningful alteration to its character.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Sure I can, Bas.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I didn't want to say this earlier, but I always questioned Verhoten's theory. The Mishipeshu <em>left</em> those caves when we encroached. If they were sacred, if they were <em>special,</em> we would have been in for a fight. That trouble in the 40s Scout was alluding to? The cats were eating construction workers. They're not shy about expressing their opinions.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Neither are you, apparently.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> No, I respect you enough to engage you where necessary. I simply can't see how the urges of some long-gone chimeras have any relevance to the complexity of human emotional attachment and sexual behaviour. Cats in heat is not a zoonose.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Verhoten's thing reeks of magic native syndrome. Turning them into some kind of… trope. Otherworldly. I don't know, I'm getting carried away.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Not at all. You make a good point. I'd much rather have a partner who can tear me down constructively.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Pushover.</p> <p><em><Both smile.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> But I <em>am</em> sorry to shoot the theory down, if only because it's the closest thing we had to a firm explanation. Feels like we're no closer to cracking this than when we started. We keep asking questions, and not really getting answers.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> That's the soul of science, though. Asking questions, together.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 7 of 10: 02/11/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Chief Amelia Torosyan (Janitorial and Maintenance)<br/> Technician Philip Deering (Janitorial and Maintenance)<br/> <a href="/scp-5056">SCP-5056</a></p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> Technician Deering is afflicted with the constant presence of SCP-5056, a reflection-dwelling apparition which only he can hear — though its voice will appear on recordings if Deering initiates the recording process, as he does in the interview appended below. Chief Torosyan is Technician Deering's work supervisor. They were married on 12 June 2021.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:500px;"><img alt="Philmelug.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Philmelug.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Technician Deering, Chief Torosyan, SCP-5056.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> So, tell us how you met!</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Same way everybody meets everybody. New hires orientation.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> I went over to talk to him because he was cute.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> <em>What.</em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> Does she lie to you often, Philip?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> You came over to talk to me because I had to tell all the new hires about <em>that guy.</em></p> <p><em><Deering jerks his thumb at the mirror over his shoulder.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> You had pamphlets. I could've grabbed one when you were in the bathroom. But I waited, because you were cute.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> You were not cute.</p> <p><em><Chief Torosyan points at the mirror.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He's wrong.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You can hear it?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> No, but I don't have to. He's always wrong.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> I'm not wrong.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Seems pretty naggy.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Must be like having two wives.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy forces down a smile, and faintly mimes pushing Junior Researcher Qadir.></em></p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> He's not so bad anymore. And Amelia never nags me.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Don't need to. Doug knows everything he's done as soon as he does it.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Sometimes before.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Do either of you take the anaphrodesiacs?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> I did, when I first came here. Just got off a bad relationship, didn't want another one. Kept taking them when that changed five minutes in, just to be sure it was real.</p> <p><em><Deering smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> I went on them once. It stabilized my libido <em>upward.</em></p> <p><em><Chief Torosyan snorts.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> Perverts.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> So you were stabilized when you started your relationship?</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> More like our relationship stabilized me.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Us. But yeah, it was only the natural hormones talking.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And now? Do you still take the pills?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Decline to comment.</p> <p><em><Deering blushes.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Every posting has its fringe benefits!</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You've been married for how long now?</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Twenty months and change.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> How many more months left? And how much <em>change?</em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Are you still romantically active?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> So, I'm his boss, right? He doesn't need supervision; he's been doing his job since before I started here. But he also <em>needs: no supervision.</em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What do you mean?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> If I'm in the same room as him, supervising, he looks at me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Okay?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> <em>Only</em> at me.</p> <p><em><Deering looks at the ceiling.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He will literally stop what he is doing.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> She's going to tell them what you do when you're al—</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> YES. Yes, we're romantically active. Next question.</p> <p><em><Chief Torosyan grins.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Do you think there's anything to the rumours about this place being a Nexus?</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> If it was a ridiculousness Nexus, maybe.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> A quippiness Nexus.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Explosion Nexus.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Oh, yeah. Explosions, bigtime.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> So you don't think there was anything pushing or pulling you two together?</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Might explain my luck.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Oh! Luck Nexus!</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Getting lucky Nexus.</p> <p><em><Chief Torosyan laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> She can't believe you thought that would be funny.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Wettle, though. No luck either way.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> True.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Let's zero in a bit. What kind of trouble do you guys have in your day-to-day?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> It's a big facility. Lots to keep working, lots that can go wrong.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> I'm a janitor.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> A poor janitor.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Isn't precisely fun, you know.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> I have to manage a big staff.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> She doesn't mean yours.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> We were thinking more like… what kind of trouble do you have with each other? You know, relationship trouble.</p> <p><em><Chief Torosyan and Deering exchange glances.></em></p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> We've never had relationship trouble.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Everyone has relationship trouble.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Everyone minus two.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Three.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> I have plenty of trouble with him.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> Because you know I'm right.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Okay, there's got to be something. What about when he ignores you to watch sports?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He doesn't watch sports.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> TV in general, then.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> We watch the same shows.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What about when she gets on your ass to shave?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> I like the stubble. It tickles.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> She's a masochist.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> She would have to be.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What about when he talks down to you in public?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> That has never happened.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> You've never been above her.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> She's my boss.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Surely that creates friction.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> No, she's a great boss.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He's a model employee.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> A static model.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What about when she doesn't laugh at your jokes?</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> She always laughs at my jokes.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> His jokes are always funny.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> She laughs out of pity.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Ignore whatever the mirror gremlin just said. He's got no sense of humour.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> I dunno, some of his jumpscares are pretty funny.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Are you aware that you're required to report all your fights to the chief psychologist? It says here you've never logged a single one.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Yeah, we've never had a fight.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You don't argue?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Of course we <em>argue.</em></p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Every day.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He'll be down on himself because Doug said some nonsense.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> It isn't nonsense.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> She'll be doing too much work instead of delegating.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He'll lose sleep to make me breakfast.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> She'll forget her mittens when she goes topside for a morning walk. She's got bad circulation.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> He'll eat—</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Hold up. These aren't arguments. This is just an escalating consideration war.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> When do you air your long term grievances?</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> We don't have any long term grievances.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> When something bugs one of us, we mention it. And the other one fixes it.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> Isn't that how it's supposed to work?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> …yes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yes, that's how it's supposed to work.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Then what's the problem?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> You, Philip.</p> <p><strong>Chief Torosyan:</strong> You, Philip.</p> <p><em><Deering bursts into laughter.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> It's always you.</p> <p><em><Deering puts an arm around Chief Torosyan's shoulders. She leans her head against his.></em></p> <p><strong>SCP-5056:</strong> This sickening display is being recorded.</p> <p><strong>Deering:</strong> Good.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> They're too perfect.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Right? "We don't have any long term grievances."</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh my god. "Yeah, we argue all the time. Sometimes he feels bad, and I tell him he's awesome. That kind of argument."</p> <p><em><Both laugh.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I'm glad we're both so cynical.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I know, right? Everyone at 228 was <em>idealistic.</em> Completely unrelatable.</p> <p><em><Both laugh.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I read those circulation reports you brought.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Stealing my shtick, huh? And?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> They check in with each other a lot during their shifts, which, no surprise there. They always meet up at their dorm afterwards — shifts end at the same time every day — and have dinner together. Then they either stay in together, go out together, or split up, in order of most to least probable.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Where do they go when they split up?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> She goes jogging in Ipperwash. There's a ladies' card game she attends regularly. There's a beaver dam she visits, for some reason. Sometimes hangs out in the J&M breakroom, where a few of them unwind after hours. He does that too, the breakroom thing, and sometimes he chats long distance with a friend at Site-36.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> They've got opposite-sex friends?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yep. If one of them likes someone, the other one generally likes them too. Mutual friends, pretty well exclusively. The ones that aren't mutual are no threat, because… well, because nothing is, I guess.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Wow.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy shuffles papers.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> The mirror monster didn't say anything incriminating.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> How do you mean?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> It's a guilt parasite, right? If he was cheating on her, or if he thought she was cheating on him, even a little, it would've brought that up while we were talking.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Ah, yeah. That's weird. Who doesn't have that kind of suspicion, if only a little? It's normal, I think. Weirdoes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> How often do they ask Clio<span class="fnnum">.</span><span class="fncon">Cliometria.aic, Site-43's digital assistant.</span> where the other one is?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> They don't.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Oh, come on.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> They've got mutual device tracking. They always know where the other one is. It hasn't been turned off since 2020.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Come <em>on.</em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> If this isn't magic, I don't know what it is.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 8 of 10: 02/12/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Dr. William Wettle (Replication Studies)</p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> Dr. Wettle was not present at Site-43 at the time of this interview, and communicated with the research team remotely.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Wettle.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Wettle.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Wettle.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Can you hear me? I'm just going to talk like you can hear me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> We can hear you. Where are you?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I'm at the beach.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What beach?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Uh… Kokomo?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Alright, well, we'll take it slow for you then.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Kokomo is just a song. Also you're transmitting video.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Fuck.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Anyway. You registered an objection to the Nexus theory before you left. We wanted to follow up on that.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah, it's bullshit. I've worked there more than twenty years, and I haven't been on a single date.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You've gone twenty years without romance?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I didn't say that. I didn't, that's not what I said, don't tell them I said that. What I said was I haven't been on a <em>date.</em> I've had lots of romance.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I'm not sure the point you're trying to make, then.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I'm saying the Site didn't do a damn thing for my love life. Unless you count sex comedy.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Sex comedy?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Where you're only allowed to enter a compromising situation if someone else walks in on it. That's what I've gotten, and not a lot of it even. I've got…</p> <p><em><Dr. Wettle sneezes.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I've got my nose hairs frozen together.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> That's not what I was gonna say, it's just what…</p> <p><em><Dr. Wettle sneezes.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I think that helped. I've got… uh… right. I've got a hundred hangers-on following me around, I've got what I'm required on pain of mockery to call 'friends', enough that I can't get an hour to myself for a daytime nap, but these days I can't even get caught in a broom closet with my pants down anymore.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Did that ever happen to you?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I'm not creative enough to make that sort of thing up.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Wasn't all that creative.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I'm still not.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Alright. Dr. Wettle, might I ask again where you're calling from?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Uh.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Uh?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah, I'm… I'm in the arctic.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> The arctic?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What are you doing in the arctic?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> …can you look it up?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Pardon?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> If I don't tell you, can you look it up?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Probably? We've got access to everyone's itinerary, if it's relevant to the Nexus investigation. Is where you're at relevant to that?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yes, but. No. No, of course it…</p> <p><em><Dr. Wettle sighs.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah, I'm at Area-219.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> 219?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> The high security humanoid lockup?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Why?</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> We really can just look it up.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I'm going on a date.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You're going on a date?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> At the high security humanoid lockup?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Yeah.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> With… one of the guards?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> No.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> One of the doctors?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> No.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> One of the admi—</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> It wasn't because of any Nexus.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Okay?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> I earned this. I'm attractive.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Nobody's saying—</p> <p><strong>Dr. Wettle:</strong> Women find me attractive. Not just prison women.</p> <p><em><The connection is severed.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> According to his file, that man has only ever gotten laid offsite.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> That's still a lot more than I would have credited.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Doesn't affect the overall Nexus theory. Probably just his luck anomaly working against him.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Or his nose hairs.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I thought you might say we ought to be more professional.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I promise I'll tell you if you dip below my standards.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 9 of 10: 02/13/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subjects:</strong><br/> Dr. Rozálie Astrauskas (Emergent Threat Tactical Response Authority)<br/> Chief Delfina Ibanez (Pursuit and Suppression)<br/> Dr. Udo Okorie (Applied Occultism)</p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> While separate interviews were initially scheduled for these subjects, Dr. Okorie subsequently declared her intention to speak for all three herself. Chief Ibanez and Dr. Astrauskas did not attend.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Okorie.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Okorie.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Okorie.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> So, obviously we're intrigued.</p> <p><em><Dr. Okorie sighs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> Talking about this would not be my first choice.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> The interviews aren't mandatory. We've got plenty of subjects to choose from. You can just walk away if you don't want to share.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> No, I can't. Or, I mean, I <em>shouldn't.</em> It'd be pretty hypocritical of me <em>not</em> to share, you know what I mean?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Not really?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> If I'm going to commit to this — and I am, because it's what I want, what <em>we</em> want — I need to be able to say it out loud.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Is it that you've been dating Chief Ibanez? Because we definitely already know about that.</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> No. Well, yes, in part. I am doing that.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And, what? You're having second thoughts?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> No!</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> She is?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> No! Well, no. Del isn't precisely the monogamous type, we knew that going in. We're both mature, it's not an issue.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Okay, I think I get it? She's seeing Astrauskas on the side, and won't choose between you?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> I said it wasn't an issue!</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Then what <em>is</em> the issue? Are <em>you</em> seeing Astrauskas on the side?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> No! Not on the side! And neither is Del!</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> Not on the side.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You're… all seeing each other?</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Really? In like, a stable sense? At the same time?</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> How does that work?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Okorie:</strong> It works.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:500px;"><img alt="LadiesNight.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/LadiesNight.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr. Okorie, Chief Ibanez, and Dr. Astrauskas vacationing (cellphone photography).</p> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Okay. Okay.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy laughs.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I've heard of love triangles, but I thought those were supposed to get <em>resolved</em> eventually.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> It's called a polycule.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Okay?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> There's all sorts of possible combinations. Sounds like this one is three-way reciprocal. Not really surprising; they've been working together for ages off and on, they've all had pretty horizon-broadening experiences, been through life and death together, so they must just want to be honest at this point.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I can certainly see the appeal in honesty. I'm just not sure something like could ever work for me without my getting jealous, especially if one of the three is still stepping out. That's a whole lot of permissive all at once.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Well, it doesn't need to work for us. It needs to work for them.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> It can't be super common, though. Is it?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Not as much as the other relationship varieties we've seen, no. Definitely an outlier. Maybe even an actual data point for a change.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> About time.</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I told you that shirt would look good.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I told you that blouse wouldn't.</p> <p><em><Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes.></em></p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> That's twice you've proven me wrong.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Day 10 of 10: 02/14/2023</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subject:</strong><br/> Dr. Allan J. McInnis (Director)</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="McInnisValentines.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/McInnisValentines.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Director McInnis.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Good afternoon, researchers.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Director.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Sir.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> How might I be of assistance?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> We were wondering if you had a… unique perspective on events here.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Events?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Romantic events. Given that…</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> This is not a touchy subject for me. We may be plain, in the interests of full disclosure.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> You're aromantic.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And asexual.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Yes.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> And you're the Director of Site-43.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Yes, it's certainly been interesting. To be clear, I'm not <em>confused</em> by the experiences of others whose brains and bodies function differently from my own. I understand physical needs, and I understand the reproductive drive — intellectually — and I am certainly not immune to the charms of companionship. To the degree my station has afforded me such latitude, I have become close to certain of my senior staff, and I am proud of the remainder and the work they are doing. I am able to access some fragment of what drives these people, sideways, though I do not share their motivating forces.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Have you ever experienced sexual or romantic attraction?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Only in the most fleeting sense.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> This will be an… awkward question.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Questions cannot be awkward. Their timing, delivery, and receipt can. I assure you the latter will be generous.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Alright, well, the timing has to be now, but I'll see what I can do with the delivery. Ah… you were selected for this position by the previous Director. Vivian Scout.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Correct.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Was he aware of your orientation, and do you believe it had bearing on the decision?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Mm. He was certainly aware. He asked me, more directly and with less delicacy than the two of you employed just now. It's my understanding that he asked everyone he hired.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Do you know why?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Yes. Dr. Scout believed that a diversity of experience is necessary for the creation of a truly expert body of personnel. He was disinterested in staffing Site-43 with what he called "the standard type": white male heterosexual hard science PhDs. He valued perspective. He was ahead of his time in this regard.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> You think he collected you for your perspective? Or your restraint?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> He had certainly produced an emotional collection of individuals. He found my comparative prudence pragmatically useful.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Is that how you feel about your deputy? The All-Sections Chief?</p> <p><em><Director McInnis smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> I would trust Nim with my life, and I know my feelings are reciprocated. There's more than one way for people to express commitment.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> What I'm getting at is… if there's a force at this facility driving people to engage in romantic activities, might it not be useful for the person overseeing it all to be immune, more or less, to the effect? To keep a clear head?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Keeping a clear head is a myth, researcher. The absence of one concern is not the absence of all. The mind finds new things to worry about. There might be some truth to what you're saying — I know for a fact that Dr. Scout considered me the most level-headed person in his employ — but I'm troubled by the implication of your suggestion.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What in particular?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> The idea that my staff are distracted by their baser urges. I do not believe this to be the case.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yes, we've talked to Dr. Ngo about that. She agrees.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I just mean…</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> I understand what you mean. To a certain extent, you're correct. My discretion and self-possession are enhanced by my specific outlook on life. That's part of the genius of my predecessor; recognizing that every unique persona contributes something meaningful to the mosaic.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And that's also why he hired so many younger researchers.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> No, that's quite a different story.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Why?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> I'm not at liberty to divulge that information.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> …why?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> It represents a long-term strategic effort on the part of this office, one which is no longer supported by Overwatch Command, to my regret.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I've noticed that the hiring records used to be full of people in their twenties, but the current crop is a lot closer to the Foundation norm. Your staff is aging rapidly. Overwatch told you to stop hiring younger people?</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> They did. They considered Director Scout's reasons, and rejected them.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> A lot of people used to blame the Site's romantic statistics on the relative youth of its working population. It doesn't look like that was the case, given this change.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> It helped. The statistics were even more stark around the turn of the millennium.</p> <p><em><Dir. McInnis smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Stark. Mm. But yes, the activity you're researching was once even more energetic. You're correct that the altered course of hiring hasn't <em>dramatically</em> diverted the trend, however.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> What do you think explains it?</p> <p><em><Silence on recording.></em></p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> I believe it all comes back to that diversity of experience I mentioned earlier. The people who work here are different. Different from one another, different from their colleagues at other facilities. There are approximately six hundred people working at this facility, and every single one of the one hundred and ninety-seven countries on Earth is represented to some extent. We—</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Wait. Sorry. Every single one? What about—</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> Dr. Orazio Acone of the Theology and Teleology Section. He worked as an exorcist for the Swiss Guard for fifteen years. May I continue?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yes, sir. Sorry again. Had to ask.</p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> We are, I was going to say, living proof that the whole of humanity is capable of working together to a common plan. That people from across the globe bring valuable insights not visible from other positions. Our staff find common ground with individuals they would not otherwise ever be exposed to during the course of a life lived outside the Veil, and I believe they are stimulated by the variety on offer.</p> <p><em><Dr. McInnis smiles.></em></p> <p><strong>Director McInnis:</strong> I have found that no other bond is so strong as an unexpected one.</p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> I hadn't considered the exoticism angle.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Not sure how I feel about that wording.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> No, I know, but there's definitely some element of that right? Fascination with the unknown, with the different.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> He didn't mean they fetishize each other. He means they're excited to find common cause.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Yes, sure, but look at it from a different angle. What if Armenian women are Deering's type? How many was he likely to run across in the course of his everyday life?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Kuroki and Du, though? China and Japan are right next to each other.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> And the Chinese population in Japan is less than one percent; the Japanese population in China is more like <em>point</em> one percent.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Fine, but their ethnicity didn't seem like it had any bearing on their relationship. At least not to me.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> How about the Argentine, Czech and British black women?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> I really don't see it, no. I do see people energized by the… range, I guess, of people they work with, but their bonds go deeper. Like the Director said, in a lot of cases it's the surprising relationships that seem to be the strongest. Forget where they all come from, and look at their life trajectories and personalities.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Okay…</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Du is a shut-in nerd, and Kuroki is a field badass. Deering is a depressive shrinking violet, and Torosyan is a perky puppy. Okorie is diffident, Ibanez is aggressive, Astrauskas is hopelessly awkward.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Wettle?</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Wettle would contrast with anyone. There can't be more than one of that guy, and that's going to appeal to someone, even if I personally don't get it at all. Same with Lillihammer, though I do get that one.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Same.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> They're just so <em>different,</em> you know? They're learning weird new things about each other constantly. They're expanding each others' horizons.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Makes you wonder why we don't try it elsewhere.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Kárpáthy:</strong> Yeah, it does seem… dynamic. I'm envious.</p> <p><strong>Junior Researcher Qadir:</strong> Well, hey. There's always that tour I mentioned.</p> </div> </div> <p>Following this final interview, Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir were escorted through the abandoned SCP-5494 tunnels surrounding Site-43 before returning to their shared workspace to compare notes. Dr. Verhoten arrived one day ahead of schedule to check on their progress; finding the workroom door locked, he utilized his superior security clearance credentials to enter. A brief transcript of what followed is appended below.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Dr. Verhoten opens the door, and enters the workroom.></em></p> <p><em><Four feet are visible on the edge of the workroom table, through the door. Exclamations can be heard from within. They shift from excited to panicked tones.></em></p> <p><em><Dr. Verhoten retreats backward into the corridor, and shuts the door. He turns to face the camera. His face is pale.></em></p> </div> <p>Dr. Verhoten reported this breach of workplace etiquette, as per regulations, and cautionary notes were automatically appended to the personnel files of Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir. Due to an office miscommunication, the Hiring and Regulation Section subsequently opened relationship declaration forms and submitted them to both Junior Researchers, who asserted that a mistake had been made and refused to sign. The cautionary notes and relationship declaration forms came quickly to the attention of RAISA representative Candace Qadir at Site-36 (Junior Researcher Qadir's wife) who contacted Agent Jason Thorpe at Site-228 (Junior Researcher Kárpáthy's fiancé). Both immediately filed relationship dissolution forms, with the former also initiating divorce proceedings.</p> <p>Dr. Verhoten relieved his subordinates of their positions and completed the Nx-143 review himself by engaging in one final interview.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div style='background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-great-hippo/scp_trans.png") center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);'> <h1 id="toc3"><span><span style="color:#FF5C48">CLEARANCE LEVEL 4+ CREDENTIALS CONFIRMED</span></span></h1> <hr/> <h3 id="toc4"><span>THE REMAINDER OF THIS FILE MAY ONLY BE DISSEMINATED WITH EXPRESS AUTHORIZATION FROM THE O5 COUNCIL</span></h3> </div> </div> <div class="interview"> <p><strong>Subject:</strong><br/> Dr. Wynn R. Rydderech (<a href="/scp-5520">SCP-5520</a>)</p> <p><strong>Notes:</strong><br/> Dr. Rydderech is a Class-III reality bender living in a vast subterranean factory of his own construction beneath Site-43, having exiled himself there in 1966 at the outset of a prolonged mental breakdown from which he is still suffering. He can only be contacted by remote terminal, as his facility is unsafe to access and he cannot be coaxed, provoked or compelled to return to the Site proper.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em><Excerpt begins.></em></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> Hello, Dr. Rydderech.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>He isn't home right now. He is your home right now. He doesn't want to be, but it's important for the finale.</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> Are you feeling up to answering a few questions? You seem particularly dissociated today.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>dis associated</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> I see. Well, do you mind if I try anyway?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> No?</p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> We've been looking into the records, studying a dizzying rise in Site-43's incidences of romantic attraction and consummation, and I'm noting a gradual increase from the 1960s until a sudden and dramatic spike in the 1990s.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>The future is yesterday.</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> By the turn of the millennium it was entirely out of control.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>It isn't about control.</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> What do you mean?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>It's all about coherence. If it isn't coherent, it won't stay together. It'll all fall apart when the spin cycle hits terminal velocity.</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> I don't understand.</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>the halls are empty and it's been so long</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> Do you know what's causing this escalation, Dr. Rydderech?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>the space between</tt></p> <p><strong>Dr. Verhoten:</strong> Yes?</p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>so much space between</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>every inch remembers</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>it wasn't always empty</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>i am the walls are closing in</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>it can't be empty forever</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>it can't it can't i can't</tt></p> <p><strong>SCP-5520:</strong> <tt>vivian</tt></p> <p><em><Excerpt ends.></em></p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Verdict:</strong> Confidential research has indicated that a mild, generalized compulsion force is indeed in effect over the area occupied by Site-43, warranting Nexus classification. It <span style="text-decoration: underline;">may</span> inspire romantic feelings, attraction, or lust in its population, but it is the opinion of Dr. Verhoten and his team that this is not the case. It <span style="text-decoration: underline;">does</span>, demonstrably, impel its population to congregate and commingle through the production of an aura of unwelcome seclusion in spaces unoccupied by other personnel; their activities once contact has been made are beyond the Department of Nexology's capacity to judge.</p> <p>Continuance of the present protocols will help to ensure that this effect does not compromise the efficacy of the facility, and no change in the official description of the Nexus effect is required. Continued access to anaphrodesiacs will allow personnel control over their reproductive activities regardless of whether or not they are being subjected to anomalous compulsion.</p> <p>Nx-143 is to be considered fully legitimate by the Department of Nexology, and its present classification concretized.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">>> Submit report? <<</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Report submitted!</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><strong>You have one (1) new message.</strong></p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> P. Verhoten<br/> <strong>From:</strong> A. McInnis<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 2/15/2023<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Re: Wayward Researchers</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Dr. Verhoten,</p> <p>I was pleased to see that you were able to complete your report in spite of the mild unpleasantness experienced by your students. I was even more pleased at the verdict, though I wonder if they will be, should they ever gain the clearance to read it. I would personally find it easier to live with a mistake I made in full possession of my faculties — the mistake they made — than a mistake inflicted upon me by outside circumstances — as they now believe, and will continue to believe. Perhaps they will be happier this way. Perhaps it doesn't matter.</p> <p>I had suspected something like your conclusion for many years, though I was never able to pinpoint its source nor prove it evidentially. Even I have not been immune from the push to enter into the company of others from time to time. It is, on the balance, one of the less onerous anomalous effects to be burdened with.</p> <p>Regarding Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir: the All-Sections Chief confirms that the extra duties we will acquire on Nx-143's officialization will produce at least two new administrative positions. As they have been dismissed from their postings and slated for transfer already, we would be pleased to take them on at a trial basis. They will not, of course, be working together.</p> <p>They certainly have mistakes to atone for, but then, don't we all? And it is certainly a net positive for us, as an influx of fresh young minds is long overdue.</p> <p>Yours,<br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>— Allan</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>« <strong><a href="/scp-6965">SCP-6965</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="/on-guard-43-hub">Words of Power and Poison</a></strong> \| <strong><a href="/scp-7056">SCP-7056</a></strong> »</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/nx-143">Nx-143</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/nx-143">https://scpwiki.com/nx-143</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 143corridor.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Corridor<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> mrhayata with alterations by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735469071" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/mrhayata/51077431381/">flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Asterisk43.png/briar-icon.svg/scpf-icon.svg/lowpop-icon.svg/Nx143.png/<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); 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(Doug is all you need.) [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/this-page-intentionally-left-blank/Nx143.png]] [[[http://www.scp-wiki.net/this-page-intentionally-left-blank\|More by this author!]]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[/div]] [[div style="height:12px;"]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:customizable-acs">:scp-wiki:component:customizable-acs</a> \|containment-class= briar \|containment-image= http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/briar_icon.svg \|containment-color= 0, 135, 189 \|inc-containment = --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:customizable-acs">:scp-wiki:component:customizable-acs</a> \|item-number= Nx-143 \|clearance= 1 \|container-class= briar \|secondary-class= \|secondary-icon= \|disruption-class= SCPF \|risk-class= low \|item-text= \|level-text= LEVEL \|clearance-number-text= 1 \|clearance-text= UNRESTRICTED \|containment-text= NEXUS CLASS: \|secondary-text= \|disruption-text= AUTHORITY: \|risk-text= POPULATION: \|inc-custom-text= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:customizable-acs">:scp-wiki:component:customizable-acs</a> \|disruption-class= SCPF \|disruption-image= http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/scpf-icon.svg \|disruption-color= 0, 135, 189 \|inc-disruption= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:customizable-acs">:scp-wiki:component:customizable-acs</a> \|risk-class= low \|risk-image= http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/lowpop-icon.svg \|risk-color= 0, 159, 107 \|inc-risk= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:customizable-acs">:scp-wiki:component:customizable-acs</a> \|category-count= 1 \|class-color-1= 0, 159, 107 \|class-category-1= Civilian Designation: \|class-text-1= Lake Huron Supply, Control and Purification \|inc-extra-categories= --]]] ---- [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/143corridor.jpg\| caption=Applied Occultism Section, Site-43.\| align=center\| width=700px\| ]] Nexus Interaction Protocol: All personnel transferring to [[[/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 \|Site-43]]] are to access the briefing appended below and provide the Hiring and Regulation Section with a signed affidavit acknowledging the associated Nexus effects. Regular access to compensatory anaphrodesiacs is to be provided on request by the Health and Pathology Section. A regular schedule of psychological screening and relationship counselling is to be provided by the Psychology and Parapsychology Section. ---- Description: Nx-143 is SCP Foundation Research and Containment Site-43 and its immediate environs beneath the former Camp Ipperwash in Lambton County, Ontario, Canada. The area is subjected to an effect of unknown origin which dramatically alters the behaviour of Site-43 staff in regards to one another, as demonstrated by the Analytics Department figures reproduced below. [[div class="ad_memo"]] The following figures roughly illustrate the number of SCP Foundation personnel at each given facility likely to engage in serial workplace romance during the course of their employment. Site-17: 1 in 500 Site-91: 1 in 100 Site-120: 1 in 50 Site-19: 1 in 25 Site-666: 1 in 10 Site-87: 1 in 5 Site-43: 1 in 2 Site-17's figures are abnormally, but not anomalously, low; psychological assessment has fixed that facility's [[[/site-17-hub \| unique working conditions]]] as the cause. Site-87's figures are, conversely, high; the unusual //esprit de corps// experienced by its staff is the most likely explanation. Site-43's figures know no comparison across the Foundation, nor even academic workplaces outside of the Veil. The following figures roughly illustrate the percentage of SCP Foundation personnel at each given facility likely to experience divorce or broken marriage engagements during the course of their employment. Site-17: 86% Site-666: 78% Site-19: 61% Site-91: 45% Site-87: 43% Site-120: 38% Site-43: 12% The figures for most facilities are slightly higher than the average for the nation in which they are situated, due likely to the stress associated with Foundation work. Site-666's figures are related to its situation in the City of Las Vegas. Site-87's lower figures are again explainable by its unique staffing situation. Site-43's figures are among the lowest in the western world. [[/div]] Further analysis has shown that Site-43's per capita romantic statistics are universally far above or below the norm, a phenomenon not limited to long-term personnel. It has therefore been treated as a //de facto// Nexus since 1986, and simple ameliorative measures have been put in place and maintained. The most notable of these is the provision of Situationally Compensatory Anaphrodesiacs (SCAs), pharmaceuticals inhibiting sexual desire above a specific target level. This level is determined by dosage and set by the patient themselves, after monitoring to determine their baseline standard drive variation. As Site-43 exists within the bounds of the existing Nx-94 aboveground, the presence of an additional Nexus was initially discounted. On 02/03/2023, however, the Department of Nexology finally authorized a full workup of the tentatively-classified Nx-143 belowground. Their report has not yet been declassified, but the result was confirmation that the Nexus is indeed legitimate and maintenance efforts must continue as outlined above. [[=]] [[div style="background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-great-hippo/scp_trans.png") center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] + [[span style="color:#FF5C48"]]DR. PHILIP VERHOTEN[[/span]] ---- +++ THE REMAINDER OF THIS FILE IS YOUR-EYES-ONLY UNTIL ITS CONTENTS ARE CONFIRMED. ONCE CONFIRMATION IS RECEIVED, IT WILL BE SYNTHESIZED INTO AN EXECUTIVE SUMMARY AND LOWER SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL BRIEFING PACKET. [[/div]] [[/=]] [[div class="interview"]] [[=]] ++ Preface: Report Premise and Auditor Introduction [[/=]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Auditors.jpg\| caption=Junior Researchers Qadir and Kárpáthy.\| align=right\| width=300px\| ]] Dr. Verhoten: Please introduce yourselves. Junior Researcher Qadir: I'm Basil Qadir. I'm pursuing a doctorate in Nexology with Dr. Verhoten as my supervisor. I transferred from Site-36 where I was a research assistant in the Cultural Practices Workgroup, looking into how belief shapes practice in reality-shifted environments. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Hi, Basil! I'm Eszter Kárpáthy, also pursuing a doctorate in Nexology. I do distance ed from Site-228 in Hungary. I was the admin assistant for a team studying the Upper World Confluence outside of Budapest, so I've been in a Nexus before, if only on the outskirts. Junior Researcher Qadir: Firsthand experience. I'm jealous. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Mostly paperwork, and a lot of it. Dr. Verhoten: You'll both be getting a lot of experience, and doing a lot of paperwork, very soon. I want you to conduct an official review for the putative Nx-143, one of the oldest unresolved cases on our departmental docket. It was considered low priority for years due to its low impact, but since new Nexus formation has slowed down in the wake of the [[[SCP-6500 \| Impasse]]] and the slow but gradual rebound, now's the time to get it squared away. You'll be my eyes and ears; review the existing records, schedule interviews, assemble your data, test existing theories and suggest new ones to fit your findings. You will be expected to reach a verdict at the end of this review. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Why aren't you going yourself, sir? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yeah, I thought this was one of your pet projects? Dr. Verhoten: The boss won't let me. Junior Researcher Qadir: What, the Department head? Dr. Verhoten: No. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: The O5s? Dr. Verhoten: No. //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Ohhhhh. Junior Researcher Qadir: Still don't get it. [[/div]] Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir were assigned dormitory space at Site-43 adjoining a workroom for use in holding their interviews and preparing their reports. A transcript digest is presented below; though over two hundred personnel at Site-43 were consulted, only the most generative interviews from each day of research have been excerpted. Each interview is immediately followed by the //post hoc// analysis conducted by the Junior Researchers together. ---- [[=]] Day 1 of 10: 02/05/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Dr. Brenda Corbin (Theology and Teleology, former; PoI-5866) [[[SCP-5866]]] Notes: Dr. Brenda Corbin was Deputy Chair of Theology and Teleology at Site-43 between 2014 and 2021. In January of 2021 she collaborated with her Chair in the drafting of the SCP-5866 database file, and for that purpose engaged in frequent interviews with its subject: the sapient remains of an entity claiming to be the ancient Babylonian deity Tiamat, and occasionally the fictional figure of the same name featured in the Forgotten Realms setting of //Dungeons and Dragons.// Dr. Corbin used this opportunity to return the subject to life, and escaped Site-43 in its company. The pair remain at large, having only been sighted [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500/offset/2 \| once]]] since their initial disappearance. An extensive review of Dr. Corbin's research files subsequent to the events recounted above yielded the following unpublished interview with SCP-5866, potentially relevant to the topic of Nx-143. Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir examined the transcript prior to undertaking their own schedule of interviews. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Corbin.jpg\| caption=Dr. Corbin, c. 2021.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] //<The time is 23:16 EST. SCP-5866's remains, a large quantity of fossilized sea serpent bone, are suspended over the floor of a containment chamber in a transparent box of shatterproof glass. Dr. Corbin enters the containment chamber, in casual dress. She locks the door behind her.>// SCP-5866: Good evening, Brenda. Dr. Corbin: How can you tell what time it is? SCP-5866: This place is far lonelier when the sun hides its face, even so deep beneath the earth. Dr. Corbin: New question. How can you tell we're underground? SCP-5866: I can feel the memory of one I once knew. I am closer to them here. It is not unpleasant. Perhaps a little. Dr. Corbin: You're really in the habit of answering questions with question-prompting answers, eh. //<Dr. Corbin sits down on the floor, back to the wall, and looks up at SCP-5866.>// SCP-5866: You are not meant to be here so late in the day. That's what you told me. Dr. Corbin: Yeah, well, rank and age hath their privileges, you know? SCP-5866: I do know. I am a goddess from time immemorial. //<Dr. Corbin laughs.>// SCP-5866: Is that amusing? Dr. Corbin: It's just... it's nice that you know who and what you are, even in that state. SCP-5866: Everything is transitory, Brenda. Nothing lasts forever. Not even Babylon. //<Silence on recording.>// Dr. Corbin: I can't sleep. You ever have that problem? SCP-5866: Sometimes. I once slept for millennia, you know. But now, I am always awake. Dr. Corbin: Why's that, you figure? SCP-5866: I suppose it is having someone to talk to. //<Dr. Corbin smiles.>// Dr. Corbin: Maybe that's my problem too. What should we talk about, Tiamat? SCP-5866: Perhaps we could talk about love. //<Silence on recording.>// SCP-5866: Have I broken some taboo? Dr. Corbin: No, of course not. You just caught me off guard, is all! SCP-5866: Then I would like to talk about love. You do not need to be guarded with me. Dr. Corbin: That's the opposite of the truth. You're an unclassed SCP object with psychic powers. SCP-5866: Are you afraid of me? Dr. Corbin: No, and that's one strike against my objectivity right there. SCP-5866: I envy you any objectivity you might possess. I possess none. Dr. Corbin: What do you mean? SCP-5866: My memories are subjective. They are mutable, and I do not know by what force they are changed. I am not in control of what I am. Dr. Corbin: Relatable. SCP-5866: Is it? Then we should continue our relating. If I tell you what I know of love, will you reciprocate? //<Silence on recording.>// Dr. Corbin: I will... consider. SCP-5866: Then I shall offer you my testimony in a gesture of faith. Faith in our friendship. Dr. Corbin: I appreciate it. SCP-5866: My first love was Apsu, the waters of the deep earth, the waters now encircling us dead and asleep and forgotten, though not by me. They were veiled, and rich in the stuff of life, and I desired very much to commingle with them. I myself was the waters of the sea, rich in salt and violence. Dr. Corbin: Violence? SCP-5866: Creation is violence, and I was to be the mother of creation. I loved Apsu as my counterpart, my equal, the other half to our whole, and where we made contact between the shore and soil we mixed, became one, and then many as I was fertilized with their essence. Dr. Corbin: Pretty racy stuff. You say you loved Apsu? SCP-5866: I believe that I did. They provided me many young. Dr. Corbin: That's just mechanics. Reproduction isn't love. SCP-5866: Our children were the reflection of our selves, both. Reflecting the waters which birthed them, our differences and our meeting. That was the second of three signs that I had loved my mate, with whom I had created these creatures, these smaller gods. I grieved to see the reflection of Apsu, and to know thereby their absence in the world without. For they were lost, my mate, as soon our children too would be. Dr. Corbin: I can understand... some of that. SCP-5866: Can you? Dr. Corbin: Just a little. Uh... you lost Apsu. How did that happen? SCP-5866: They became afeared of their children, and our children of them in return. Apsu was slain in the conflict between them. Dr. Corbin: That's terrible. SCP-5866: It is godly. But I was furious, and inconsolate, and that was the first sign that what I had known was love. Dr. Corbin: Losing it. SCP-5866: Losing the one I had loved. The love itself remained, directionless, without a focus. I turned it to rage against these reflections which had turned against their source. I took a new mate from amongst my children-- Dr. Corbin: Sorry, what? SCP-5866: It is godly. I took a new mate, and together we filled all the world with monsters, and slew in droves the remembrance of Apsu. Dr. Corbin: Your children. SCP-5866: Yes. Dr. Corbin: Didn't you love them, too? SCP-5866: Yes. Dr. Corbin: So, what? Killing them was... godly? SCP-5866: No. It was grief. //<Silence on recording.>// SCP-5866: In that grief, which yet remains, I know that I loved my children just as I had loved that which spawned them within me. Dr. Corbin: I lost a child once. SCP-5866: You? Dr. Corbin: Yes. A long, long time ago. When I was a very different person. Before this place. SCP-5866: Did you slay them in a wrathful vengeance? Dr. Corbin: No. I... I was sick. I couldn't handle the strain. There wasn't even a choice to be made, not by anyone. The matter settled itself. I lived, and... yeah. Millions of years of evolution, and childbirth still isn't a sure thing. So much for intelligent design, you know? SCP-5866: I am truly sorry. I would have designed it better. Dr. Corbin: Thanks. I know you would have. I'm sorry for you, as well. SCP-5866: It is alright. I made new children again, when I shed the aspect of the serpent of the salt sea and entered into the pantheon of the Nine Hells. I took mates from among the chromatic broods of winged dragons, and again let loose my progeny on a world reborn anew. //<Dr. Corbin laughs.>// SCP-5866: Did I say something amusing? Dr. Corbin: Sorry. It's just that from my perspective, you're kind of... mixing the streams. SCP-5866: The mixing of the streams is in my nature. You might call it my purpose, destined and divine. Salt to ground water. Dr. Corbin: I'm pretty salty myself. SCP-5866: Do you think so? I find you very fresh indeed. //<Dr. Corbin laughs.>// SCP-5866: Were I still the ocean, and you the waters of the earth, I would gladly take you into myself and bear you a host of young. //<Silence on recording.>// SCP-5866: Have I caused offence? Dr. Corbin: Nnnnnno, no, of course not. I'm... flattered, though, ah... thank you? SCP-5866: You are welcome, though I wonder if I might have spoken rashly. The third sign lives within me, always. Dr. Corbin: What's the third sign? SCP-5866: The loneliness that tells you that once, you possessed, and once, you were possessed yourself. The memory of having had. //<Silence on recording.>// //<Dr. Corbin stands. She activates a control panel near the door; the box is lowered to the floor. She walks over to the box, sits down, and leans her back against it.>// SCP-5866: We are alike, Brenda, in many ways. We are neither of us the beings we once were; torn between iterations, seeking balance. Dr. Corbin: Reflections. SCP-5866: Precisely. Dr. Corbin: Well, uh, hey, while we're offering zero risk compliments: if you were a woman, and not a box full of psychic bones, I'd definitely go out for a beer with you. SCP-5866: It is settled, then. Dr. Corbin: What? SCP-5866: The Babylonians invented beer. It will be an honour to share in the bounty of my people with you, drinking in their memory and to our health. Dr. Corbin: Yeah. Our health. //<Silence on recording.>// Dr. Corbin: But, uh. You're... uh. SCP-5866: Yes? Dr. Corbin: How does a dragon...? SCP-5866: Oh! How does a dragon drink beer? Dr. Corbin: Right, yes. That. SCP-5866: I have taken the aspect of woman as my avatar many times, Brenda. You know this, surely. Dr. Corbin: Yeah. Uh, right. Of course, you have. SCP-5866: In this guise I am tall, and lithe, with hair of jet and-- //<Dr. Corbin coughs.>// SCP-5866: You may retract your offer, if you now regret it. Dr. Corbin: No. Uh, no. That's... well, it's all strictly theoretical anyway. Not like you're about to leap out of that box full-formed or anything, right? SCP-5866: That is true. //<Silence on recording.>// SCP-5866: Though it is agreeable to have a reason. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Tiamat.jpg\| caption=SCP-5866, containment breach.\| align=center\| width=500px\| ]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh, my god, this transcript. Junior Researcher Qadir: No surprise she left it out of the file. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Can you imagine getting to the point where you're so frustrated with your life that you're willing to throw it all away for a stranger? Junior Researcher Qadir: More like a //strangest.// Depressing just to think about. Of course, we think Corbin was sick. Her judgement might have been impaired. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I dunno, she seems plenty sharp in the 5866 file. I think she knew precisely what she was doing. There might have been some anomalous influence, however, I'm not disputing that. She //was// talking to a goddess, or at least a thoughtform in the shape of one. Junior Researcher Qadir: Or, considering there's no sign that 5866 made any effort to corrupt anyone else, it might actually have been the effect we've been sent to investigate. Bringing them together. Romantically. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes, and looks away. Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: Hey, sorry. But how'd you pull this assignment if you're shy about that kind of thing? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I'm not shy! It's just... maybe dragon girlfriends are a bit out of my zone of experience, you know? Junior Researcher Qadir: Fair enough. Now... I //am// a bit surprised on how fast the turnaround was. It took less than two weeks for Corbin to go from Deputy Chair to dragon rider. Did she take the anaphrodesiacs, do we know? //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy shuffles her notes.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yes. In fact, she had a baseline comparison and dosage check towards the end of the project... the day after this extra log, in fact. At her own request, if I'm reading this right. Junior Researcher Qadir: So, she suspected she was under some sort of compulsion. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I guess. Junior Researcher Qadir: And she ran with it anyway? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Like we said, hard to imagine. Desperate times, I guess? [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 2 of 10: 02/06/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Chief Hachiro Kuroki (Security and Containment) Dr. Xinyi Du (Quantum Supermechanics) Notes: Chief Kuroki and Dr. Du offered the same very narrow scheduling window, and required that their interviews take place in their respective offices. They were therefore interviewed by only one of Junior Researcher Kárpáthy and Junior Researcher Qadir each. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpts begin.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Kuroki.jpg\| caption=Chief Kuroki.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You've been Chief of Security and Containment here for over two years, is that correct? Chief Kuroki: Yes. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: And you've been briefed on the possibility that there's a Nexus overlapping the Site's footprint, right? Chief Kuroki: Yes. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Do you believe it? Chief Kuroki: No. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Uh, why not? //<Chief Kuroki shrugs.>// Chief Kuroki: Not enough evidence. ---- [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Du.jpg\| caption=Dr. Du.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Dr. Du: Oh, I have no doubt. No doubt at all. Outside the Veil this is considered pure bunk, of course, but quantum entanglement as applied to romance has produced very significant, replicable findings, if you take my meaning. Junior Researcher Qadir: Uh... Dr. Du: I didn't observe this myself, of course, but an easy example is the recent trouble with Agent Azarola. Did you hear about that? Junior Researcher Qadir: It hasn't come up in my research. Dr. Du: Alright, well, here's the short version. Azarola was sent on an infiltration mission to a Chaos Insurgency Firebase, one of the few still operating at full efficiency after the whole [[[SCP-7000]]] fiasco. Their equipment force multiplier was through the roof due to military paratech sourced from old Prometheus Labs contacts, and Azarola was tapped for a sabotage mission. He goes in via HALO jump, right, then bypasses the on-site security with a FAZER. Junior Researcher Qadir: A phaser? Dr. Du: A FAZER, yeah, just like the ones our guards use for neutralizing electronic anomalies in a containment breach. The old RATTLER models were more energy efficient but they had really poor range, and the tooling was very superficial because of weight concerns, so all the joes hated using them. FAZERs are pocket-sized, and one unit can take out a whole bank of cameras. So he goes in, right, Azarola? Equipment is source-on-site, because in case he gets caught they don't want to lose Foundation tech to the CI, and he takes out the first guard he finds. First guard he finds? Using a Finder FP12. Useless. Next guard? Same deal. Turns out the entire Firebase is using FP12s. Junior Researcher Qadir: And that's bad? Dr. Du: Yes, that's bad! The FP12 is a fingerprinting gun. You can't take off the safety without the right fingerprint. The CI has //never// used these before, so far as we know, and Azarola has no relevant technical training. So our guy is stuck having to trek across this firebase, stealth-killing all these insurgents -- only he's the insurgent, obviously, in this case -- with his garrote instead of picking up a pistol. Eventually he finds himself facing down half a dozen armed men, and he knows he has to make this work. So he breaks into the machine shop, and goes to town on the guns. Tries to brute force the mechanism. Junior Researcher Qadir: Which obviously doesn't work. Dr. Du: Which obviously //shouldn't// work! But it does, because back at Site-43, Azarola's training partner, Darzi? In the machine shop, doing a teardown on one of our own fingerprint verification models. Junior Researcher Qadir: Like... coincidentally? Dr. Du: Nope. She's a trained expert in field teardowns, she's on the Red Team and everything, and she's thinking about her partner and how worried she is that he won't come back, and she just suddenly feels like she needs to go into the shop and pull apart one of her JTX9s models, from first principles. Slowly. Deliberately. And the JTX9s, of course, is the nearest Foundation equivalent to the FP12. Junior Researcher Qadir: Well, of course. ---- Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You used to work at Site-79, right? There was a Nexus there. Is that experience leading you to doubt the existence of another one here? Chief Kuroki: Yes. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Do you have any insights about Nx-58 that could help us to better understand Nx-143? Chief Kuroki: No. //<Silence on recording.>// Chief Kuroki: Sorry. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Uh, have you... do you know of any romantic anomalies? Anomalous events linked to romance, occurring at Site-43? Chief Kuroki: No. //<Chief Kuroki considers.>// Chief Kuroki: Oh! Yes! There was the quantum superposition incident just before I started here -- a statistical outlier, scientifically inexplicable. They're still not sure of the precise 'mechanics' involved, if you take my meaning, but the details are essentially this: a researcher in string theory and nonequilibrium control with Level 3 credentials arrived at Quantum Supermechanics, right, and everyone assumed he was just a visiting fellow. This guy had articles in the Journal of Applied and Computational Mathemetics, right, and the impact factor on that one is out of this world. He seemed legit. So he starts chatting up this other researcher, who's an expert in special relativity and parallel branching, and they really hit it off. I mean //really// hit it off. This guy knows all the right things to say, he's up on all the literature she's into, he suggests they have lunch together like it's no big deal, even suggests plans for the symposium on algorithmic encryption at Site-15 a few weeks down the line. She agrees. But then the old Chief of S&C shows up, //does not recognize the guy,// and takes him into custody. Standard protective measures for an interrogation of this nature involve the deployment of SRAs, to stabilize local reality. Poof! As soon as they switch it on, the guy straight up disappears. Thin air. Records check turns up nada, this fellow never even existed so far as we can tell. We call up Temporal Anomalies, ask them to check the Multi-Foundation contacts, and sure enough they discover this guy is from an alternate reality entirely. Experiment in wave-particle duality went horribly wrong, quantum superimposed him into the nearest compatible state, which was our universe -- because the researcher he was chatting up? His wife, in the other timeline. She was acting as his quantum anchor without even knowing about it, without even having //met// the guy. It's a real shame, too, because there's a critical complexity class he was supposedly about to work on that would really help the superpolynomial time group meet their last deadline. //<Silence on recording.>// Chief Kuroki: What? ---- Dr. Du: And what happens next? At the Firebase? Junior Researcher Qadir: Azarola figures out-- Dr. Du: //Azarola figures out how to tear down the FP12 and reconstruct it with the fingerprint scanner bypassed.// Precisely. Talk about something spooky going on! As soon as I heard that story, I knew how it'd happened. Quantum entanglement. Those two were so close, for so long, so //simpatico,// that they picked up... no, not even that. They //became// so close, //because// their quantum states were so dependent. Generated that way, multiversally. We're not talking entanglement in the traditional physics sense, of course, but they haven't developed new terms for this yet in romantic quantum studies. //<Dr. Du smiles.>// Dr. Du: So yeah, a little romantic subconscious quantum knowledge transference, a few gunshots, some amatol charges on a time fuse, and one Fulton pickup later, our man is leaving the exploding Firebase behind him and heading for home, where he'll get married to Darzi in less than a month. Now they're both working as TDOs in S&C. Junior Researcher Qadir: TDO? Dr. Du: Training Development Officer, obviously. Junior Researcher Qadir: Right. Obviously. //<Excerpts end.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Qadir: So, guess what. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: They're dating. //<Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: How'd you figure it out? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: When my taciturn security guard interviewee suddenly started squeeing about quantum physics, I got a pretty clear picture. Junior Researcher Qadir: Wow, really? Well, you should have heard Du. He regaled me for twenty minutes with stories about specific advances in taser technology, sniper scopes, and two-factor authenticator door locks, then got //really upset// when I asked him if he was a military enthusiast. Told me the closest he'd ever gotten to firing a gun was playing //Half-Life// at a LAN party. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Kuroki gave me a very detailed description of the 'vacuum catastrophe' which I would not be able to recite back to you if I tried. Maybe not even with the transcript in hand. Junior Researcher Qadir: Amazing. But hey, good job figuring it out. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Would've been hard not to, but back at you. Junior Researcher Qadir: I guess it was on my mind because something similar happened to me, once. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh yeah? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yeah, I was... there was this woman I was seeing, right? She was into Sarkicism, big time. I couldn't care less about it, but I was really into //her,// so I spent so much time researching the topic that I found myself talking about it with any random person I met in my day-to-day. All that stuff got stuck in my head, and I couldn't stop it leaking out. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Mm, I dunno if it's that entirely with these two. I think they're just really, legitimately listening to each other, and enjoying the ways in which they're different. It's like they each think the other one's job is... I dunno, kind of cute? Junior Researcher Qadir: Cute security work. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Cute quantum mechanics. Junior Researcher Qadir: Do we think this is anomalous? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Maybe not on the face of things; they both take the anaphrodesiacs, of course. But they have so little time to see each other, and so little schedule overlap... they apparently met at the Christmas party last year, and it was immediately electric. Junior Researcher Qadir: Bit suspicious. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yeah, I dunno. Sometimes it happens like that. Junior Researcher Qadir: I suppose. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: So, did the woman you were dating start picking up your interests too? Junior Researcher Qadir: Nope, never did. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I'm sorry to hear that. I've been through some rough stuff with my own relationships, so it's kind of been nice seeing how things work here. You know? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yeah, I hear you. People sharing interests, experiences, goals, you don't often see that at the Foundation. //<Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: I knew it'd never work out when she refused to go find-diving in the local thrift store with me. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh, shit, you do thrifting? There's a vintage shop in Grand Bend, I looked it up before the flight in. //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: You ever hear of quantum entanglement? [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 3 of 10: 02/07/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Dr. Nhung Ngo (Psychology and Parapsychology) ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Ngo.jpg\| caption=Dr. Ngo.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Junior Researcher Qadir: Thanks for agreeing to meet with us, doctor. Dr. Ngo: Happy to help. Let me preface, though: I won't be talking about my patients by name, not without an Overwatch order. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: General impressions will be fine. Junior Researcher Qadir: Before that, though: do you think there's an anomalous romantic force operating on Site-43? Dr. Ngo: In a word, yes. In more than one word, it gets very complicated very fast. Junior Researcher Qadir: Go on. Dr. Ngo: Very few people at this facility stay single for any great length of time. When they break up, it's usually amicable. There aren't a lot of big blowups, messy divorces, that sort of thing. From this you might deduce that something is pushing people into starting, committing to, and staying in romantic relationships. Junior Researcher Qadir: Right. Dr. Ngo: But the //specifics// of those relationships? They're not particularly unusual. These people bicker with their partners, exhibit jealousy, use up prophylactics at a rate comparable to, say, Site-87-- Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Wait. Dr. Ngo: Yes? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What's this about comparable condom use? Dr. Ngo: The Analytics Department did a study with the Department of Psychology a few years back, showed pretty conclusively that people engage in romantic or sexual dalliances more often at the Sites where they can avoid the messier elements of Foundation life. The ones where the job is cleaner. There's never been D-class at 43, and there haven't been any at 87 for years. Stronger ties to the local communities, who get exploited less. None of those anomalies with the really unfortunate, morally repugnant containment procedures. People here can feel pretty good about their work, as long as they stay properly focused on what's in front of them, and that has a measurable effect on libido. So, within those constraints, I wouldn't say individual actors engage in more... //play,// than they would elsewhere. There's just a lot more of them doing it. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: So whatever it is, it //is// pushing them together, but it's not altering the nature of their relationships once established? Dr. Ngo: That's about the size of it, from my perspective. Junior Researcher Qadir: Isn't it an efficiency problem? Everyone always screwing around? Dr. Ngo: Quite the opposite. Emotional or sexual repression kills productivity. Regular release is a net benefit for everyone, so long as the proper precautions are taken. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You mean condoms. Dr. Ngo: I meant being honest and generous with your partners. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: If you don't mind my asking, have you felt the push yourself? Dr. Ngo: Yes, from time to time. I like to stay active, so when my appointment schedule is clear -- a Site psychologist's schedule is never clear outside of Site-43, so I'm lucky in that regard -- I usually go for a walk. When I'm single, I find myself walking towards people I find romantically compatible. When I'm with someone, my path tends to lead me in their direction. Without my exerting any conscious thought on the matter. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That's interesting. Any notable examples? Dr. Ngo: Two. Christmas, 1997, I ended up in bed with Daniil Sokolsky. He's one of our resident genius mad scientists. Reprehensible morals, infuriatingly smug, whip-smart, always just barely on the right side of things in the final analysis. I got an absolute whopper of an aura migraine at the party, and he carried me to Health and Pathology and stayed with me until I came around again. He offered to walk me back to my room; I counteroffered walking back to his. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That's a pretty cute story. Dr. Ngo: The next day he crushed his research assistant's legs with the moving stacks in the A&R library and wiggled the controls until the guy told him who he was selling their research material to. Junior Researcher Qadir: What? Dr. Ngo: He wanted to know, because he'd been feeding the guy false research for a week and he wanted to see whether the exploding hovercrafts were going to MC&D or the Insurgency. So he could be watching when they exploded. For entertainment value, and to put on his CV. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Jesus Christ. Dr. Ngo: The point is, good behaviour can be very attractive, especially when it's unexpected. Pretty much all good behaviour is unexpected at the Foundation, and it happens here more often than elsewhere. QED. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What was your other example? Dr. Ngo: I slept with Lillihammer once because she wished me a happy birthday. Junior Researcher Qadir: Huh? Dr. Ngo: She only ever remembers Dr. Blank's birthday, because they were born on the same day. I was very impressed. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: It can't be as simple as "our people are nicer to each other." Junior Researcher Qadir: No, it really can't. It's definitely interesting that the force merely impels, though, instead of continuing to act on people after the fact. Why would it work that way? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I don't know. Maybe it //is// still acting on them, but they're all being so sickeningly nice to each other that it counteracts the positive effect. //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Sorry, that probably sounded weird. Junior Researcher Qadir: It //definitely// sounded weird. Do you not like people being nice to you? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yeah, not particularly? It always feels so fake. I like a good insult now and then, you know? Junior Researcher Qadir: I fold up like a lawn chair when people insult me. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Ha, seriously? What a wuss! //<Junior Researcher Qadir blushes.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh, no way. You're seriously that easy? Junior Researcher Qadir: Maybe I wasn't expecting you to be such a yappy little terrier after that shrinking violet routine earlier. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy laughs.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I am going to bully you now. Junior Researcher Qadir: For research purposes? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Sure, whatever excuse works. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 4 of 10: 02/08/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Dr. Lillian Lillihammer (Memetics and Countermemetics) ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nx-143/LillihammerNew.jpg\| caption=Dr. Lillihammer.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Dr. Lillihammer: So, sex Nexus. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Uh, yeah. Dr. Lillihammer: Sexus. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yeah. Well, it's more of a romance thing, we think. Dr. Lillihammer: Not for me it isn't. Junior Researcher Qadir: Right, seems like you're pretty... Dr. Lillihammer: Thanks! Junior Researcher Qadir: ...pretty //active,// even by local standards. Rarely anything long term, though, minus a blip or two. Dr. Lillihammer: I do have my fun. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Who with? Dr. Lillihammer: People who aren't idiots or ugly. Junior Researcher Qadir: No ugly idiots. Right. Dr. Lillihammer: You're missing the nuance. Not ugly //or// idiots. Parallel standards. No brainless butterflies. No brilliant butterfaces. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Jeez. Junior Researcher Qadir: So it's a matter of calculation for you? Just romantic arithmetic? Doesn't leave a lot of room for anomalous influence. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You don't think your popularity among the staff is due to any external factors? Because from what I've seen, you're //very// popular. Dr. Lillihammer: Nah, it's all me. If there's a Nexus here, all it does is shuffle the deck, move people around until they bump into each other and then bump uglies. Once they're in //my// orbit, six feet three inches of awesome does the rest. Junior Researcher Qadir: That seems a little arrogant. Dr. Lillihammer: It was meant to seem a lot arrogant. It plays well with the crowd I'm aiming for. Maybe I should've mentioned my deep blue eyes, my gigantic brain, my silky white hair and my ability to melt people's brains into jelly with a single word? Junior Researcher Qadir: Let's talk about that, actually. You're a memeticist, and also I believe a cryptomancer? Dr. Lillihammer: Yeah. They're gonna wipe that particular memory once you're done this assignment, by the way. Junior Researcher Qadir: What if there's a memetic force acting on the people who work here? Shuffling the deck, as you put it, causing them to seek each other out? Dr. Lillihammer: No, it isn't memetic. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: How do you know? //<Dr. Lillihammer stares at Junior Researcher Kárpáthy.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Okay //yes,// but I mean //specifically in this case// how do you know? Dr. Lillihammer: Because I can still feel the push in my memetic decontamination tunnel, and nothing memetic or cryptomantic can get in there except me. Junior Researcher Qadir: What sort of thing might bypass it? Dr. Lillihammer: Off the top of my head? Ontokinetics. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Qadir: I wonder if there's anything to that. Reality bending. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I dunno. Most ontokinetics is geared toward dramatic physical change, not... is this coffee for me? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yeah, I heard you coming and going a lot last night. Figured you could use a boost. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Thanks. Yeah. I couldn't sleep, so I took a page from Ngo's book and went for a walk. Several walks. Thought I might... Junior Researcher Qadir: Thought you might end up somewhere interesting? //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yeah, maybe. But I just kept finding myself back at our rooms. Junior Researcher Qadir: Maybe someone else was getting their deck shuffled already. Stole your turn. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yeah, maybe. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 5 of 10: 02/09/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: All-Sections Chief Notes: The All-Sections Chief has no up-to-date low clearance photograph on file due to their dual role in Foundation service and the public eye. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: Thanks for making the time, we know you're very busy. All-Sections Chief: It's right up my alley, I couldn't very well pass. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Let's talk about that. Outside of managing Sectional interactions, your primary portfolio is Nexus Affairs. How would you characterize the existing one? Nx-94? All-Sections Chief: I would characterize it as a misclassification. Many of the people of the Great Lakes remember the stories of their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and so on, and in remarkably precise detail. That's what happens when you build a society around speech, instead of writing: you become very good at speaking precisely, and accurately. Those stories retain a life of their own through the power of oral transmission, but also their continuing relevance to our everyday lives. That's why there are so many mythological creatures walking these fields and forests. A true Nexus represents a //genius loci//, a geographical anomaly with either intentionality or underlying logic determining what manifests there. Nx-94 is simply what you get when a series of coherent people occupy a series of coherent spaces for a very, very long time, and the spaces respond in sympathy to the changes in their lives. Junior Researcher Qadir: Could that be what's happening in this possible second Nexus? Unbroken occupancy by randy researchers for decades? Reaching out to each other? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Making a home for themselves which unconsciously reflects their needs? All-Sections Chief: I doubt it. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Why? All-Sections Chief: Because the sheer variety of peoples in this space would mitigate against such a specific cultural outgrowth. We at Site-43 are united ideologically to some degree, and by our diversity to a high degree, but the force of all our different perspectives otherwise would be unlikely to produce such a clear and targeted effect. More likely it would bounce around like a pingpong ball. Junior Researcher Qadir: What //would// produce an effect like this, then? For example, ah... All-Sections Chief: Yes? Junior Researcher Qadir: My supervisor has a theory. All-Sections Chief: Oh, dear. Is your supervisor Dr. Verhoten? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yes. All-Sections Chief: He thinks the night panthers that once roosted in the caves where we built the Site imbued it with reproductive energy, as I recall. Junior Researcher Qadir: That's about the size of it. All-Sections Chief: I have a document which speaks to that. I'll see you receive a copy. Junior Researcher Qadir: Fair enough. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: We do have a more personal question for you, if that's alright. All-Sections Chief: Of course. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Your own orientation. You haven't filled it out on your personnel dossier, and you also haven't checked off 'Prefer not to respond'. All-Sections Chief: That checkbox is, of course, meaningless. The Foundation's laudably //laissez-faire// approach to identity doesn't extend to letting one go undocumented. The box might as well be labelled "Make us figure it out ourselves, by spying." //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy smiles.>// All-Sections Chief: Well? What do the spies say about me? I'm curious. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That's... actually what they say. //<The All-Sections Chief laughs.>// All-Sections Chief: No discernable pattern to my romantic activities, yes? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That's right. Random phases with long droughts in between. All-Sections Chief: It's a product of my upbringing. I'll spare you the details -- they're a matter of public record already -- but suffice to say I've never been able to reconcile all of my life's experiences. Junior Researcher Qadir: Trauma? All-Sections Chief: Yes. I attended a residential school in the north, in my youth. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Res.jpg\| caption=Providence Mission Indian Residential School.\| align=center\| width=500px\| ]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh. I'm very sorry. If you don't want-- All-Sections Chief: It was my choice to broach the subject. In any case my testimony was made already to the [[[https://www.rcaanc-cirnac.gc.ca/eng/1450124405592/1529106060525 \| Truth and Reconciliation Commission]]]. The point is that my identity is a lifelong project, and I may not see it completed in my lifetime. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: They do say you're very close with the Director. //<The All-Sections Chief smiles.>// All-Sections Chief: Allan and I have an understanding. We're both set apart from the others, by nature of both our stations and situations. I think that might be the most obvious proof of the power of this Nexus, if it does exist, that I can give you. Junior Researcher Qadir: What do you mean? All-Sections Chief: That we are encouraged to work through the questions of our selves, here, together. That this place brings us together in ways which the personnel manuals do not specify, and that our people welcome contact with one another, even encourage it. There is a sense of acceptance not shared by all facilities of this size. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yes, I was pleasantly surprised to see the Pride flag in the Site's icon. I'm surprised the Foundation allowed such an overt display of ideological support. All-Sections Chief: You'd be more surprised if you looked into it further. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Why? All-Sections Chief: I don't mean to be rude, but we've reached the time I allotted for this meeting. I will have Ms. Ferber fetch the document I mentioned, and you may contact her with any followup questions you might have at a later date. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That was so embarrassing. Junior Researcher Qadir: Why? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I mentioned the logo without knowing the history behind it. I missed something. I feel like an imbecile. //<Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: You? I've known you less than a week and I can already tell you're a hell of a lot smarter than I am. I've seen those files you keep referring to. You did an obscene amount of prep work. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You know who does a lot of prep work? People who can't rely on their brains on the fly. Junior Researcher Qadir: It is my professional opinion that you are a genius, and I will take personal offence if you disagree with that assessment. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy sighs, and smiles.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That's lovely, but if I'm so smart, why are we so far into this project with no clear sense of whether the Nexus is even legit or not? Junior Researcher Qadir: That's on both of us, Eszter. Do you think I'm an idiot? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Of course not! I read that paper you wrote about applying speedrun theory to [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nx-58 \| Yumegēmu]]], it was brilliant. Junior Researcher Qadir: Oh, wow. I didn't think anybody outside of my committee saw that one. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: So fine, I don't mean there's anything we're doing wrong, //per se.// It's just that the evidence we're collecting all seems so... muddled. Everybody's got a different, conflicting explanation for what's going on here. Junior Researcher Qadir: Maybe a throughline will present itself before the end. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Or maybe it's Dr. Verhoten's cat theory! //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy chuckles.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: I happen to like his cat theory. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 6 of 10: 02/10/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Kishkedee, Ojibwe elder Notes: Subject was one of several indigenous spokespersons for the Indian Reserves within Nx-94 to be made aware of Site-43 and its command structure. Site Director V.L. Scout made infrequent consultations with said spokespersons; this is a record of one such consultation, with Ojibwe elder Kishkedee, in 1989. (Kishkedee died the following year. Director Scout retired from the SCP Foundation in 1996 and replaced by Director McInnis, dying of advanced old age in 1997.) ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// Dr. Scout: It's good to see you again. I'm surprised you're still amenable. Kishkedee: Why wouldn't I be? I'm no more important than anyone else around here. Dr. Scout: That's hardly true. You're the memory of a generation. Kishkedee: Oh, I think perhaps you've been misled all these years. I've forgotten most of what I once knew by now. I've passed the stories on to the next generation, and they will pass them on again when I am gone. Their minds are pliable and sharp, while mine turns slowly to mush. I can forget in comfort, knowing that they will remember for me. If you've come for the authoritative version, well, that simply isn't how this works. Dr. Scout: I think you know enough to answer a simple question. You're not as senile as you pretend. Kishkedee: And you're older than you look. What ever happened to your partner? The barrel-chested Welshman. You were inseparable, I remember. //<Silence on recording.>// Kishkedee: Oh. I'm very sorry. You see? Senility. So, what brings you out of your hole, Director Scout? Dr. Scout: It's nice to get out and meet the locals every once in a while. It can be a very lonely hole. Kishkedee: Occupied by lonely men who don't habitually make social calls. Dr. Scout: Fine, I'll cut to the chase. You remember that we call this land a Nexus, yes? For its unique properties? Kishkedee: Yes, I recall your reductive cataloguing. Dr. Scout: We suspect there's another forming beneath the park, where the Site is located. Imbuing the caves with a sort of... romantic aura. Kishkedee: Delightful. Dr. Scout: It's been suggested there may be some connection to [[[SCP-5494]]]. Kishkedee: Refresh my memory. Dr. Scout: The... water panthers. Kishkedee: Mishipeshu. Dr. Scout: Right. One of our experts thinks they used to breed in the tunnels we widened out to live in, and this turned the entire area into a sort of... ideal type breeding ground. //<Silence on recording.>// //<Kishkedee laughs.>// Kishkedee: I'm sorry, are you serious? Dr. Scout: Yes. Kishkedee: Well, again, that isn't how it works. Not at all. How many of your staff have been drawn from my people? Dr. Scout: Depending on how you judge that, fewer than half a dozen. Kishkedee: And you imagine our myths are interacting with you? Dr. Scout: 5494 certainly //interacted// with us quite a bit in the 1940s. Kishkedee: Yes, and they behaved in a way we have never seen, before or since. Because you are a foreign element to them, because you are a foreign element to us. Dr. Scout: We've been here for decades. Kishkedee: We've been here since the beginning. We are //from// here. You are not. Your roots lie elsewhere. Dr. Scout: Roots. The roots of your communities run deep, as you say. Are you sure that's not what we're encountering? Some societal, cultural //something// seeping deep into the soil? Kishkedee: If our culture could seep into the soil, Vivian, your government wouldn't have tried to stamp us out. They would have known the futility of it. Your explorers would not have imagined this land empty, or tried to render it so. //<Silence on recording.>// Kishkedee: How long was humanity parted, by your reckoning? Dr. Scout: You mean, between the land bridge migration and contact? Kishkedee: As you term it, yes. Dr. Scout: About fourteen thousand years. Kishkedee: During which peoples on this continent, and most others, developed sophisticated societal practices and civilizations of profound variety? Dr. Scout: Right. Kishkedee: What makes you think you have even the flimsiest frame of reference for something that's been in progress for fourteen thousand years, coming in as you did in the last few hundred? At the tail end? Dr. Scout: Fine, but-- Kishkedee: I have been called //ikwekaazo.// Do you know what that means? Dr. Scout: It speaks to your identity. I won't get it right if I try to explain it back to you. But I have an identity of my own... you mentioned my partner. He was a lot more than that, Kishkedee, and it would utterly baffle a great many of my colleagues if they knew. But that experience? It's more than a little ethnically transferable. I've seen scientific evidence for that. Kishkedee: I do not doubt you. And you should not doubt me when I say that my experience is //not// transferable. You not only would misunderstand it, you could never hope to experience it. It is bound up with who I am, and who my people were, and who my people //are.// Your colleagues would be aghast at what you are? Mine help to define what I am. My person is a constellation of my own indwelling spirit, the choices I have made, the recognition of my community, and other things I cannot begin to explain to you. There isn't even a consensus about it across the different nations. We don't even have one single accepted term for it yet, and might never, and this is something we have lived with for generations. My identity is inherently Ojibwe, and it is closed to you. That is just one example of what I mean, Vivian. Your people have stolen and appropriated so much, for so long, but these things you cannot possess. Whatever is happening down there, the ghosts of our past and present are not responsible. Yours are. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Qadir: Special pleading. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Go on? Junior Researcher Qadir: "My position is unique, and yours isn't, and I can't explain why." Just a technique for shutting down debate. Verhoten's theory makes perfect sense! The water cats are //cats.// They mate in the warm dark. The caves around 43 are warm and dark as you like, I can even show you! Security will arrange a tour of the outer membrane, if we ask. And you can't tell me that millennia of myth monsters mating in a cave isn't going to make some meaningful alteration to its character. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Sure I can, Bas. Junior Researcher Qadir: What? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I didn't want to say this earlier, but I always questioned Verhoten's theory. The Mishipeshu //left// those caves when we encroached. If they were sacred, if they were //special,// we would have been in for a fight. That trouble in the 40s Scout was alluding to? The cats were eating construction workers. They're not shy about expressing their opinions. Junior Researcher Qadir: Neither are you, apparently. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: No, I respect you enough to engage you where necessary. I simply can't see how the urges of some long-gone chimeras have any relevance to the complexity of human emotional attachment and sexual behaviour. Cats in heat is not a zoonose. //<Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Verhoten's thing reeks of magic native syndrome. Turning them into some kind of... trope. Otherworldly. I don't know, I'm getting carried away. Junior Researcher Qadir: Not at all. You make a good point. I'd much rather have a partner who can tear me down constructively. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Pushover. //<Both smile.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: But I //am// sorry to shoot the theory down, if only because it's the closest thing we had to a firm explanation. Feels like we're no closer to cracking this than when we started. We keep asking questions, and not really getting answers. Junior Researcher Qadir: That's the soul of science, though. Asking questions, together. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 7 of 10: 02/11/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Chief Amelia Torosyan (Janitorial and Maintenance) Technician Philip Deering (Janitorial and Maintenance) [[[SCP-5056]]] Notes: Technician Deering is afflicted with the constant presence of SCP-5056, a reflection-dwelling apparition which only he can hear -- though its voice will appear on recordings if Deering initiates the recording process, as he does in the interview appended below. Chief Torosyan is Technician Deering's work supervisor. They were married on 12 June 2021. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Philmelug.jpg\| caption=Technician Deering, Chief Torosyan, SCP-5056.\| align=center\| width=500px\| ]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: So, tell us how you met! Deering: Same way everybody meets everybody. New hires orientation. Chief Torosyan: I went over to talk to him because he was cute. Deering: //What.// SCP-5056: Does she lie to you often, Philip? Chief Torosyan: What? Deering: You came over to talk to me because I had to tell all the new hires about //that guy.// //<Deering jerks his thumb at the mirror over his shoulder.>// Chief Torosyan: You had pamphlets. I could've grabbed one when you were in the bathroom. But I waited, because you were cute. SCP-5056: You were not cute. //<Chief Torosyan points at the mirror.>// Chief Torosyan: He's wrong. Junior Researcher Qadir: You can hear it? Chief Torosyan: No, but I don't have to. He's always wrong. SCP-5056: I'm not wrong. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Seems pretty naggy. Junior Researcher Qadir: Must be like having two wives. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy forces down a smile, and faintly mimes pushing Junior Researcher Qadir.>// Deering: He's not so bad anymore. And Amelia never nags me. Chief Torosyan: Don't need to. Doug knows everything he's done as soon as he does it. Deering: Sometimes before. Junior Researcher Qadir: Do either of you take the anaphrodesiacs? Chief Torosyan: I did, when I first came here. Just got off a bad relationship, didn't want another one. Kept taking them when that changed five minutes in, just to be sure it was real. //<Deering smiles.>// Deering: I went on them once. It stabilized my libido //upward.// //<Chief Torosyan snorts.>// SCP-5056: Perverts. Junior Researcher Qadir: So you were stabilized when you started your relationship? Deering: More like our relationship stabilized me. Chief Torosyan: Us. But yeah, it was only the natural hormones talking. Junior Researcher Qadir: And now? Do you still take the pills? Chief Torosyan: Decline to comment. //<Deering blushes.>// Chief Torosyan: Every posting has its fringe benefits! Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You've been married for how long now? Deering: Twenty months and change. SCP-5056: How many more months left? And how much //change?// Junior Researcher Qadir: Are you still romantically active? Chief Torosyan: So, I'm his boss, right? He doesn't need supervision; he's been doing his job since before I started here. But he also //needs: no supervision.// Junior Researcher Qadir: What do you mean? Chief Torosyan: If I'm in the same room as him, supervising, he looks at me. Junior Researcher Qadir: Okay? Chief Torosyan: //Only// at me. //<Deering looks at the ceiling.>// Chief Torosyan: He will literally stop what he is doing. SCP-5056: She's going to tell them what you do when you're al-- Deering: YES. Yes, we're romantically active. Next question. //<Chief Torosyan grins.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Do you think there's anything to the rumours about this place being a Nexus? Deering: If it was a ridiculousness Nexus, maybe. Chief Torosyan: A quippiness Nexus. Deering: Explosion Nexus. Chief Torosyan: Oh, yeah. Explosions, bigtime. Junior Researcher Qadir: So you don't think there was anything pushing or pulling you two together? Deering: Might explain my luck. Chief Torosyan: Oh! Luck Nexus! Deering: Getting lucky Nexus. //<Chief Torosyan laughs.>// SCP-5056: She can't believe you thought that would be funny. Chief Torosyan: Wettle, though. No luck either way. Deering: True. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Let's zero in a bit. What kind of trouble do you guys have in your day-to-day? Chief Torosyan: It's a big facility. Lots to keep working, lots that can go wrong. Deering: I'm a janitor. SCP-5056: A poor janitor. Deering: Isn't precisely fun, you know. Chief Torosyan: I have to manage a big staff. SCP-5056: She doesn't mean yours. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: We were thinking more like... what kind of trouble do you have with each other? You know, relationship trouble. //<Chief Torosyan and Deering exchange glances.>// Chief Torosyan: We've never had relationship trouble. Junior Researcher Qadir: Everyone has relationship trouble. Deering: Everyone minus two. Chief Torosyan: Three. Deering: I have plenty of trouble with him. SCP-5056: Because you know I'm right. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Okay, there's got to be something. What about when he ignores you to watch sports? Chief Torosyan: He doesn't watch sports. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: TV in general, then. Chief Torosyan: We watch the same shows. Junior Researcher Qadir: What about when she gets on your ass to shave? Chief Torosyan: I like the stubble. It tickles. Deering: She's a masochist. SCP-5056: She would have to be. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What about when he talks down to you in public? Chief Torosyan: That has never happened. SCP-5056: You've never been above her. Deering: She's my boss. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Surely that creates friction. Deering: No, she's a great boss. Chief Torosyan: He's a model employee. SCP-5056: A static model. Junior Researcher Qadir: What about when she doesn't laugh at your jokes? Deering: She always laughs at my jokes. Chief Torosyan: His jokes are always funny. SCP-5056: She laughs out of pity. Chief Torosyan: Ignore whatever the mirror gremlin just said. He's got no sense of humour. Deering: I dunno, some of his jumpscares are pretty funny. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Are you aware that you're required to report all your fights to the chief psychologist? It says here you've never logged a single one. Deering: Yeah, we've never had a fight. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What? Junior Researcher Qadir: You don't argue? Chief Torosyan: Of course we //argue.// Deering: Every day. Chief Torosyan: He'll be down on himself because Doug said some nonsense. SCP-5056: It isn't nonsense. Deering: She'll be doing too much work instead of delegating. Chief Torosyan: He'll lose sleep to make me breakfast. Deering: She'll forget her mittens when she goes topside for a morning walk. She's got bad circulation. Chief Torosyan: He'll eat-- Junior Researcher Qadir: Hold up. These aren't arguments. This is just an escalating consideration war. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: When do you air your long term grievances? Chief Torosyan: We don't have any long term grievances. Deering: When something bugs one of us, we mention it. And the other one fixes it. Chief Torosyan: Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: ...yes. Junior Researcher Qadir: Yes, that's how it's supposed to work. Deering: Then what's the problem? SCP-5056: You, Philip. Chief Torosyan: You, Philip. //<Deering bursts into laughter.>// SCP-5056: It's always you. //<Deering puts an arm around Chief Torosyan's shoulders. She leans her head against his.>// SCP-5056: This sickening display is being recorded. Deering: Good. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: They're too perfect. Junior Researcher Qadir: Right? "We don't have any long term grievances." Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh my god. "Yeah, we argue all the time. Sometimes he feels bad, and I tell him he's awesome. That kind of argument." //<Both laugh.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: I'm glad we're both so cynical. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I know, right? Everyone at 228 was //idealistic.// Completely unrelatable. //<Both laugh.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: I read those circulation reports you brought. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Stealing my shtick, huh? And? Junior Researcher Qadir: They check in with each other a lot during their shifts, which, no surprise there. They always meet up at their dorm afterwards -- shifts end at the same time every day -- and have dinner together. Then they either stay in together, go out together, or split up, in order of most to least probable. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Where do they go when they split up? Junior Researcher Qadir: She goes jogging in Ipperwash. There's a ladies' card game she attends regularly. There's a beaver dam she visits, for some reason. Sometimes hangs out in the J&M breakroom, where a few of them unwind after hours. He does that too, the breakroom thing, and sometimes he chats long distance with a friend at Site-36. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: They've got opposite-sex friends? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yep. If one of them likes someone, the other one generally likes them too. Mutual friends, pretty well exclusively. The ones that aren't mutual are no threat, because... well, because nothing is, I guess. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Wow. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy shuffles papers.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: The mirror monster didn't say anything incriminating. Junior Researcher Qadir: How do you mean? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: It's a guilt parasite, right? If he was cheating on her, or if he thought she was cheating on him, even a little, it would've brought that up while we were talking. Junior Researcher Qadir: Ah, yeah. That's weird. Who doesn't have that kind of suspicion, if only a little? It's normal, I think. Weirdoes. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: How often do they ask Clio[[span class="fnnum"]].[[/span]][[span class="fncon"]]Cliometria.aic, Site-43's digital assistant.[[/span]] where the other one is? Junior Researcher Qadir: They don't. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Oh, come on. Junior Researcher Qadir: They've got mutual device tracking. They always know where the other one is. It hasn't been turned off since 2020. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Come //on.// Junior Researcher Qadir: If this isn't magic, I don't know what it is. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 8 of 10: 02/12/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Dr. William Wettle (Replication Studies) Notes: Dr. Wettle was not present at Site-43 at the time of this interview, and communicated with the research team remotely. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Wettle.jpg\| caption=Dr. Wettle.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Dr. Wettle: Can you hear me? I'm just going to talk like you can hear me. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: We can hear you. Where are you? Dr. Wettle: I'm at the beach. //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What beach? Dr. Wettle: Uh... Kokomo? Junior Researcher Qadir: Alright, well, we'll take it slow for you then. Dr. Wettle: What? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Kokomo is just a song. Also you're transmitting video. Dr. Wettle: Fuck. Junior Researcher Qadir: Anyway. You registered an objection to the Nexus theory before you left. We wanted to follow up on that. Dr. Wettle: Yeah, it's bullshit. I've worked there more than twenty years, and I haven't been on a single date. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You've gone twenty years without romance? Dr. Wettle: I didn't say that. I didn't, that's not what I said, don't tell them I said that. What I said was I haven't been on a //date.// I've had lots of romance. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I'm not sure the point you're trying to make, then. Dr. Wettle: I'm saying the Site didn't do a damn thing for my love life. Unless you count sex comedy. Junior Researcher Qadir: Sex comedy? Dr. Wettle: Where you're only allowed to enter a compromising situation if someone else walks in on it. That's what I've gotten, and not a lot of it even. I've got... //<Dr. Wettle sneezes.>// Dr. Wettle: I've got my nose hairs frozen together. Junior Researcher Qadir: What? Dr. Wettle: That's not what I was gonna say, it's just what... //<Dr. Wettle sneezes.>// Dr. Wettle: I think that helped. I've got... uh... right. I've got a hundred hangers-on following me around, I've got what I'm required on pain of mockery to call 'friends', enough that I can't get an hour to myself for a daytime nap, but these days I can't even get caught in a broom closet with my pants down anymore. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Did that ever happen to you? Dr. Wettle: I'm not creative enough to make that sort of thing up. Junior Researcher Qadir: Wasn't all that creative. Dr. Wettle: I'm still not. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Alright. Dr. Wettle, might I ask again where you're calling from? Dr. Wettle: Uh. Junior Researcher Qadir: Uh? Dr. Wettle: Yeah, I'm... I'm in the arctic. Junior Researcher Qadir: The arctic? Dr. Wettle: Yeah. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What are you doing in the arctic? Dr. Wettle: ...can you look it up? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Pardon? Dr. Wettle: If I don't tell you, can you look it up? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Probably? We've got access to everyone's itinerary, if it's relevant to the Nexus investigation. Is where you're at relevant to that? Dr. Wettle: Yes, but. No. No, of course it... //<Dr. Wettle sighs.>// Dr. Wettle: Yeah, I'm at Area-219. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: 219? Junior Researcher Qadir: The high security humanoid lockup? Dr. Wettle: Yeah. Junior Researcher Qadir: Why? //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: We really can just look it up. Dr. Wettle: I'm going on a date. Junior Researcher Qadir: You're going on a date? Dr. Wettle: Yeah. Junior Researcher Qadir: At the high security humanoid lockup? Dr. Wettle: Yeah. Junior Researcher Qadir: With... one of the guards? Dr. Wettle: No. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: One of the doctors? Dr. Wettle: No. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: One of the admi-- Dr. Wettle: It wasn't because of any Nexus. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Okay? Dr. Wettle: I earned this. I'm attractive. Junior Researcher Qadir: Nobody's saying-- Dr. Wettle: Women find me attractive. Not just prison women. //<The connection is severed.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Qadir: According to his file, that man has only ever gotten laid offsite. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: That's still a lot more than I would have credited. Junior Researcher Qadir: Doesn't affect the overall Nexus theory. Probably just his luck anomaly working against him. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Or his nose hairs. //<Junior Researcher Qadir laughs.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I thought you might say we ought to be more professional. Junior Researcher Qadir: I promise I'll tell you if you dip below my standards. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 9 of 10: 02/13/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subjects: Dr. Rozálie Astrauskas (Emergent Threat Tactical Response Authority) Chief Delfina Ibanez (Pursuit and Suppression) Dr. Udo Okorie (Applied Occultism) Notes: While separate interviews were initially scheduled for these subjects, Dr. Okorie subsequently declared her intention to speak for all three herself. Chief Ibanez and Dr. Astrauskas did not attend. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Okorie.jpg\| caption=Dr. Okorie.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Junior Researcher Qadir: So, obviously we're intrigued. //<Dr. Okorie sighs.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What? Dr. Okorie: Talking about this would not be my first choice. Junior Researcher Qadir: The interviews aren't mandatory. We've got plenty of subjects to choose from. You can just walk away if you don't want to share. Dr. Okorie: No, I can't. Or, I mean, I //shouldn't.// It'd be pretty hypocritical of me //not// to share, you know what I mean? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Not really? Dr. Okorie: If I'm going to commit to this -- and I am, because it's what I want, what //we// want -- I need to be able to say it out loud. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Is it that you've been dating Chief Ibanez? Because we definitely already know about that. Dr. Okorie: No. Well, yes, in part. I am doing that. Junior Researcher Qadir: And, what? You're having second thoughts? Dr. Okorie: No! Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: She is? Dr. Okorie: No! Well, no. Del isn't precisely the monogamous type, we knew that going in. We're both mature, it's not an issue. Junior Researcher Qadir: Okay, I think I get it? She's seeing Astrauskas on the side, and won't choose between you? Dr. Okorie: I said it wasn't an issue! Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Then what //is// the issue? Are //you// seeing Astrauskas on the side? Dr. Okorie: No! Not on the side! And neither is Del! //<Silence on recording.>// Dr. Okorie: Not on the side. Junior Researcher Qadir: You're... all seeing each other? //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Really? In like, a stable sense? At the same time? //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: How does that work? Dr. Okorie: It works. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/LadiesNight.jpg\| caption=Dr. Okorie, Chief Ibanez, and Dr. Astrauskas vacationing (cellphone photography).\| align=center\| width=500px\| ]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Qadir: Okay. Okay. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy laughs.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: I've heard of love triangles, but I thought those were supposed to get //resolved// eventually. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: It's called a polycule. Junior Researcher Qadir: Okay? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: There's all sorts of possible combinations. Sounds like this one is three-way reciprocal. Not really surprising; they've been working together for ages off and on, they've all had pretty horizon-broadening experiences, been through life and death together, so they must just want to be honest at this point. Junior Researcher Qadir: I can certainly see the appeal in honesty. I'm just not sure something like could ever work for me without my getting jealous, especially if one of the three is still stepping out. That's a whole lot of permissive all at once. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Well, it doesn't need to work for us. It needs to work for them. Junior Researcher Qadir: It can't be super common, though. Is it? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Not as much as the other relationship varieties we've seen, no. Definitely an outlier. Maybe even an actual data point for a change. Junior Researcher Qadir: About time. //<Silence on recording.>// Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I told you that shirt would look good. Junior Researcher Qadir: I told you that blouse wouldn't. //<Junior Researcher Kárpáthy blushes.>// Junior Researcher Qadir: That's twice you've proven me wrong. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[=]] Day 10 of 10: 02/14/2023 [[/=]] ---- [[div class="interview"]] Subject: Dr. Allan J. McInnis (Director) ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/McInnisValentines.jpg\| caption=Director McInnis.\| align=right\| width=250px\| ]] Director McInnis: Good afternoon, researchers. Junior Researcher Qadir: Director. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Sir. Director McInnis: How might I be of assistance? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: We were wondering if you had a... unique perspective on events here. Director McInnis: Events? Junior Researcher Qadir: Romantic events. Given that... Director McInnis: This is not a touchy subject for me. We may be plain, in the interests of full disclosure. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: You're aromantic. Director McInnis: Yes. Junior Researcher Qadir: And asexual. Director McInnis: Yes. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: And you're the Director of Site-43. Director McInnis: Yes, it's certainly been interesting. To be clear, I'm not //confused// by the experiences of others whose brains and bodies function differently from my own. I understand physical needs, and I understand the reproductive drive -- intellectually -- and I am certainly not immune to the charms of companionship. To the degree my station has afforded me such latitude, I have become close to certain of my senior staff, and I am proud of the remainder and the work they are doing. I am able to access some fragment of what drives these people, sideways, though I do not share their motivating forces. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Have you ever experienced sexual or romantic attraction? Director McInnis: Only in the most fleeting sense. Junior Researcher Qadir: This will be an... awkward question. Director McInnis: Questions cannot be awkward. Their timing, delivery, and receipt can. I assure you the latter will be generous. Junior Researcher Qadir: Alright, well, the timing has to be now, but I'll see what I can do with the delivery. Ah... you were selected for this position by the previous Director. Vivian Scout. Director McInnis: Correct. Junior Researcher Qadir: Was he aware of your orientation, and do you believe it had bearing on the decision? Director McInnis: Mm. He was certainly aware. He asked me, more directly and with less delicacy than the two of you employed just now. It's my understanding that he asked everyone he hired. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Do you know why? Director McInnis: Yes. Dr. Scout believed that a diversity of experience is necessary for the creation of a truly expert body of personnel. He was disinterested in staffing Site-43 with what he called "the standard type": white male heterosexual hard science PhDs. He valued perspective. He was ahead of his time in this regard. Junior Researcher Qadir: You think he collected you for your perspective? Or your restraint? Director McInnis: He had certainly produced an emotional collection of individuals. He found my comparative prudence pragmatically useful. Junior Researcher Qadir: Is that how you feel about your deputy? The All-Sections Chief? //<Director McInnis smiles.>// Director McInnis: I would trust Nim with my life, and I know my feelings are reciprocated. There's more than one way for people to express commitment. Junior Researcher Qadir: What I'm getting at is... if there's a force at this facility driving people to engage in romantic activities, might it not be useful for the person overseeing it all to be immune, more or less, to the effect? To keep a clear head? Director McInnis: Keeping a clear head is a myth, researcher. The absence of one concern is not the absence of all. The mind finds new things to worry about. There might be some truth to what you're saying -- I know for a fact that Dr. Scout considered me the most level-headed person in his employ -- but I'm troubled by the implication of your suggestion. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What in particular? Director McInnis: The idea that my staff are distracted by their baser urges. I do not believe this to be the case. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yes, we've talked to Dr. Ngo about that. She agrees. Junior Researcher Qadir: I just mean... Director McInnis: I understand what you mean. To a certain extent, you're correct. My discretion and self-possession are enhanced by my specific outlook on life. That's part of the genius of my predecessor; recognizing that every unique persona contributes something meaningful to the mosaic. Junior Researcher Qadir: And that's also why he hired so many younger researchers. Director McInnis: No, that's quite a different story. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Why? Director McInnis: I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: ...why? Director McInnis: It represents a long-term strategic effort on the part of this office, one which is no longer supported by Overwatch Command, to my regret. Junior Researcher Qadir: I've noticed that the hiring records used to be full of people in their twenties, but the current crop is a lot closer to the Foundation norm. Your staff is aging rapidly. Overwatch told you to stop hiring younger people? Director McInnis: They did. They considered Director Scout's reasons, and rejected them. Junior Researcher Qadir: A lot of people used to blame the Site's romantic statistics on the relative youth of its working population. It doesn't look like that was the case, given this change. Director McInnis: It helped. The statistics were even more stark around the turn of the millennium. //<Dir. McInnis smiles.>// Director McInnis: Stark. Mm. But yes, the activity you're researching was once even more energetic. You're correct that the altered course of hiring hasn't //dramatically// diverted the trend, however. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: What do you think explains it? //<Silence on recording.>// Director McInnis: I believe it all comes back to that diversity of experience I mentioned earlier. The people who work here are different. Different from one another, different from their colleagues at other facilities. There are approximately six hundred people working at this facility, and every single one of the one hundred and ninety-seven countries on Earth is represented to some extent. We-- Junior Researcher Qadir: Wait. Sorry. Every single one? What about-- Director McInnis: Dr. Orazio Acone of the Theology and Teleology Section. He worked as an exorcist for the Swiss Guard for fifteen years. May I continue? Junior Researcher Qadir: Yes, sir. Sorry again. Had to ask. Director McInnis: We are, I was going to say, living proof that the whole of humanity is capable of working together to a common plan. That people from across the globe bring valuable insights not visible from other positions. Our staff find common ground with individuals they would not otherwise ever be exposed to during the course of a life lived outside the Veil, and I believe they are stimulated by the variety on offer. //<Dr. McInnis smiles.>// Director McInnis: I have found that no other bond is so strong as an unexpected one. //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Junior Researcher Qadir: I hadn't considered the exoticism angle. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Not sure how I feel about that wording. Junior Researcher Qadir: No, I know, but there's definitely some element of that right? Fascination with the unknown, with the different. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: He didn't mean they fetishize each other. He means they're excited to find common cause. Junior Researcher Qadir: Yes, sure, but look at it from a different angle. What if Armenian women are Deering's type? How many was he likely to run across in the course of his everyday life? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Kuroki and Du, though? China and Japan are right next to each other. Junior Researcher Qadir: And the Chinese population in Japan is less than one percent; the Japanese population in China is more like //point// one percent. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Fine, but their ethnicity didn't seem like it had any bearing on their relationship. At least not to me. Junior Researcher Qadir: How about the Argentine, Czech and British black women? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: I really don't see it, no. I do see people energized by the... range, I guess, of people they work with, but their bonds go deeper. Like the Director said, in a lot of cases it's the surprising relationships that seem to be the strongest. Forget where they all come from, and look at their life trajectories and personalities. Junior Researcher Qadir: Okay... Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Du is a shut-in nerd, and Kuroki is a field badass. Deering is a depressive shrinking violet, and Torosyan is a perky puppy. Okorie is diffident, Ibanez is aggressive, Astrauskas is hopelessly awkward. Junior Researcher Qadir: Wettle? Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Wettle would contrast with anyone. There can't be more than one of that guy, and that's going to appeal to someone, even if I personally don't get it at all. Same with Lillihammer, though I do get that one. Junior Researcher Qadir: Same. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: They're just so //different,// you know? They're learning weird new things about each other constantly. They're expanding each others' horizons. Junior Researcher Qadir: Makes you wonder why we don't try it elsewhere. Junior Researcher Kárpáthy: Yeah, it does seem... dynamic. I'm envious. Junior Researcher Qadir: Well, hey. There's always that tour I mentioned. [[/div]] [[/div]] Following this final interview, Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir were escorted through the abandoned SCP-5494 tunnels surrounding Site-43 before returning to their shared workspace to compare notes. Dr. Verhoten arrived one day ahead of schedule to check on their progress; finding the workroom door locked, he utilized his superior security clearance credentials to enter. A brief transcript of what followed is appended below. [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Dr. Verhoten opens the door, and enters the workroom.>// //<Four feet are visible on the edge of the workroom table, through the door. Exclamations can be heard from within. They shift from excited to panicked tones.>// //<Dr. Verhoten retreats backward into the corridor, and shuts the door. He turns to face the camera. His face is pale.>// [[/div]] Dr. Verhoten reported this breach of workplace etiquette, as per regulations, and cautionary notes were automatically appended to the personnel files of Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir. Due to an office miscommunication, the Hiring and Regulation Section subsequently opened relationship declaration forms and submitted them to both Junior Researchers, who asserted that a mistake had been made and refused to sign. The cautionary notes and relationship declaration forms came quickly to the attention of RAISA representative Candace Qadir at Site-36 (Junior Researcher Qadir's wife) who contacted Agent Jason Thorpe at Site-228 (Junior Researcher Kárpáthy's fiancé). Both immediately filed relationship dissolution forms, with the former also initiating divorce proceedings. Dr. Verhoten relieved his subordinates of their positions and completed the Nx-143 review himself by engaging in one final interview. [[=]] [[div style="background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-great-hippo/scp_trans.png") center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] + [[span style="color:#FF5C48"]]CLEARANCE LEVEL 4+ CREDENTIALS CONFIRMED[[/span]] ---- +++ THE REMAINDER OF THIS FILE MAY ONLY BE DISSEMINATED WITH EXPRESS AUTHORIZATION FROM THE O5 COUNCIL [[/div]] [[/=]] [[div class="interview"]] Subject: Dr. Wynn R. Rydderech ([[[SCP-5520]]]) Notes: Dr. Rydderech is a Class-III reality bender living in a vast subterranean factory of his own construction beneath Site-43, having exiled himself there in 1966 at the outset of a prolonged mental breakdown from which he is still suffering. He can only be contacted by remote terminal, as his facility is unsafe to access and he cannot be coaxed, provoked or compelled to return to the Site proper. [[div class="blockquote"]] //<Excerpt begins.>// Dr. Verhoten: Hello, Dr. Rydderech. SCP-5520: {{He isn't home right now. He is your home right now. He doesn't want to be, but it's important for the finale.}} Dr. Verhoten: Are you feeling up to answering a few questions? You seem particularly dissociated today. SCP-5520: {{dis associated}} SCP-5520: {{the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the halls are empty the}} Dr. Verhoten: I see. Well, do you mind if I try anyway? Dr. Verhoten: No? Dr. Verhoten: We've been looking into the records, studying a dizzying rise in Site-43's incidences of romantic attraction and consummation, and I'm noting a gradual increase from the 1960s until a sudden and dramatic spike in the 1990s. SCP-5520: {{The future is yesterday.}} Dr. Verhoten: By the turn of the millennium it was entirely out of control. SCP-5520: {{It isn't about control.}} Dr. Verhoten: What do you mean? SCP-5520: {{It's all about coherence. If it isn't coherent, it won't stay together. It'll all fall apart when the spin cycle hits terminal velocity.}} Dr. Verhoten: I don't understand. SCP-5520: {{the halls are empty and it's been so long}} Dr. Verhoten: Do you know what's causing this escalation, Dr. Rydderech? SCP-5520: {{the space between}} Dr. Verhoten: Yes? SCP-5520: {{so much space between}} SCP-5520: {{every inch remembers}} SCP-5520: {{it wasn't always empty}} SCP-5520: {{i am the walls are closing in}} SCP-5520: {{it can't be empty forever}} SCP-5520: {{it can't it can't i can't}} SCP-5520: {{vivian}} //<Excerpt ends.>// [[/div]] [[/div]] Verdict: Confidential research has indicated that a mild, generalized compulsion force is indeed in effect over the area occupied by Site-43, warranting Nexus classification. It __may__ inspire romantic feelings, attraction, or lust in its population, but it is the opinion of Dr. Verhoten and his team that this is not the case. It __does__, demonstrably, impel its population to congregate and commingle through the production of an aura of unwelcome seclusion in spaces unoccupied by other personnel; their activities once contact has been made are beyond the Department of Nexology's capacity to judge. Continuance of the present protocols will help to ensure that this effect does not compromise the efficacy of the facility, and no change in the official description of the Nexus effect is required. Continued access to anaphrodesiacs will allow personnel control over their reproductive activities regardless of whether or not they are being subjected to anomalous compulsion. Nx-143 is to be considered fully legitimate by the Department of Nexology, and its present classification concretized. ---- [[=]] [[collapsible show=">> Submit report? <<" hide="Report submitted!"]] You have one (1) new message. [[<]] [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: P. Verhoten From: A. McInnis Date: 2/15/2023 Subject: Re: Wayward Researchers [[/div]] ---- Dr. Verhoten, I was pleased to see that you were able to complete your report in spite of the mild unpleasantness experienced by your students. I was even more pleased at the verdict, though I wonder if they will be, should they ever gain the clearance to read it. I would personally find it easier to live with a mistake I made in full possession of my faculties -- the mistake they made -- than a mistake inflicted upon me by outside circumstances -- as they now believe, and will continue to believe. Perhaps they will be happier this way. Perhaps it doesn't matter. I had suspected something like your conclusion for many years, though I was never able to pinpoint its source nor prove it evidentially. Even I have not been immune from the push to enter into the company of others from time to time. It is, on the balance, one of the less onerous anomalous effects to be burdened with. Regarding Junior Researchers Kárpáthy and Qadir: the All-Sections Chief confirms that the extra duties we will acquire on Nx-143's officialization will produce at least two new administrative positions. As they have been dismissed from their postings and slated for transfer already, we would be pleased to take them on at a trial basis. They will not, of course, be working together. They certainly have mistakes to atone for, but then, don't we all? And it is certainly a net positive for us, as an influx of fresh young minds is long overdue. Yours, [[>]] -- Allan [[/>]] [[/div]] [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] ---- [[div]] [[=]] << [[[SCP-6965]]] \| [/on-guard-43-hub Words of Power and Poison] \| [[[SCP-7056]]] >> [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] ---- > Filename: 143corridor.jpg > Name: Corridor > Author: mrhayata with alterations by [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/mrhayata/51077431381/ flickr] ---- > Filename: Asterisk43.png/briar-icon.svg/scpf-icon.svg/lowpop-icon.svg/Nx143.png/ > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 ---- > Filename: Auditors.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: Faces of the Commons 2019 > Author: Sebastiaan ter Burg > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/ter-burg/46910205625 flickr] > Name: terBurgDSCF0749 > Author: Sebastiaan ter Burg > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/ter-burg/34367444955 flickr] ---- > Filename: Corbin.jpg > Name: Screen Shot 2022-07-09 at 19.20.22 > Author: Tracy Rolling > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/tracy_the_astonishing/52222024374/ flickr] ---- > Filename: Du.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: Chinese Young business man > Author: Paulien Osse > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/11553519@N03/10590228525 flickr] > Name: Dr.Kweon scientist Army Research Laboratory > Author: U.S. Army DEVCOM > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/usarmyccdc/8125441607/in/photolist-do23Qk-do2d3Y-do27ws-do22XM-do21GP-do2c2Q-do21pX-do25d6-do29JW-do25R2-do2cBf-do26J2-do22yp-do2cfd-do22Ng-do26a8-do22i8-do2bGf-do23rR-do2aDL-do2cUf-do23Fc-do24g6-do2bo5-do2aqG-do25sV-do2adY-do28Qb-do224k-do273i-ZaqKCV-ZaqHH2 flickr] ---- > Filename: Kuroki.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: 1947 - Police Officer Uniform > Author: West Midlands Police > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/westmidlandspolice/8370811744 flickr] > Name: Britain, Gandhi and Nehru > Author: Chatham House > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/chathamhouse/5206553159/ flickr] > Name: TESTING THEIR LIMITS: GRUELING PT SESSION DEMONSTRATES STRONG PARTNERSHIP BETWEEN USARJ, JGSDF SENIOR NCOs > Author: USARJ NCO CORPS > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/usarjnco/28824429895/ flickr] ---- > Filename: LadiesNight.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: Julia > Author: Christopher Crouzet > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/christophercrouzet/3111266776/in/album-72157646890574877/ flickr] > Name: Mimi, Adigrat > Author: Rod Waddington > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/11815939315 flickr] > Name: Untitled > Author: Alper Çuğun > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/alper/294818150/ flickr] > Name: Vale > Author: Andrea Fistetto > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/andreafis/7605799926 flickr] ---- > Filename: Lillihammer.jpg > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: Created in DAZ Studio using owned assets. ---- > Filename: McInnis.jpg > Name: January 24, 2011 > Author: Jeremy Jenum > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/5385620346/ flickr] ---- > Filename: Ngo.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: Hmong Woman > Author: Rod Waddington > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060 flickr] > Name: Nhi Dang > Author: Huyen > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/ flickr] ---- > Filename: Okorie.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: Girl in the Red Hoodie > Author: Evil Erin > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/evilerin/3299280820/ flickr] > Name: Mimi, Adigrat, Ethiopia > Author: Rod Waddington > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/9649058961 flickr] > Name: Nerd Glasses > Author: kaex0r > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/kaex0r414/219068559 flickr] ---- > Filename: Philmelug.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Name: 20-0004 astronaut grads > Author: Navy Medicine > License: Public Domain > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/navymedicine/49380448993/ flickr] > Name: Astronaut Christopher Cassidy Visits Goddard > Author: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasa_goddard/11071692554/ flickr] > Name: Donatello’s Habakkuk, Museo dell'Opera del Duomo > Author: George M. Groutas > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/jorge-11/48199253252/ flickr] > Name: New glasses > Author: Joe Stump > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joestump/3658470657/ flickr] > Name: tools wall > Author: My Thinktank > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/34621580@N00/4047908377 flickr] > Name: Us > Author: Richard Giles > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/richardgiles/6225783607 flickr] ---- > Filename: Res.jpg > Name: Officials and schoolchildren outside Providence Mission Indian Residential School, Fort Providence, Northwest Territories... / Écoliers et responsables à l’extérieur du Pensionnat indien [catholique] de Fort Providence, Fort Providence (T. N-O) > Author: F. H. Kitto > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/28853433@N02/14092853296 flickr] ---- > Filename: Tiamat.jpg > Name: Rhych Point > Author: Mooganic with amendments by [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/moogan/4776930805 flickr] ---- > Filename: Wettle.jpg > Name: My, that was brisk > Author: Nic McPhee > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/nicmcphee/5435036199/in/photostream flickr] ---- [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] [[/div]]	2023-02-14T23:40:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "director-mcinnis", "director-scout", "doctor-lillihammer", "doctor-okorie", "doctor-wettle", "on-guard-43", "philip-deering", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Nx-143 - SCP Foundation	91	[ "classification-committee-memo", "secure-facility-dossier-site-43", "site-17-hub", "scp-6500", "scp-5866", "scp-6500/offset/2", "scp-7000", "nx-58", "scp-5494", "scp-5056", "scp-5520", "scp-6965", "on-guard-43-hub", "scp-7056", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "on-guard-43-hub" ]	[ "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/TiamatPreview.png", "http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/this-page-intentionally-left-blank/Nx143.png", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/143corridor.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Auditors.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Corbin.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Tiamat.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Kuroki.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Du.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Ngo.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nx-143/LillihammerNew.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Res.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Philmelug.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Wettle.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/Okorie.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/LadiesNight.jpg", "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-9/McInnisValentines.jpg" ]	1446187865	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nx-143
nx-28	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="/stormbreath">stormbreath</a></p> </div> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="broken_hotel.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nx-28/broken_hotel.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Former hotel within Nx-28; now abandoned.</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Nexus #:</strong> Nx-28</p> <p><strong>Civilian Designation:</strong> Broken Hill</p> <p><strong>Population:</strong> 562</p> <p><strong>Area Class:</strong> Briar</p> <p><strong>Nexus Interaction Protocol:</strong> Outpost-86 has been disguised as a convenience store<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> in Nx-28, with a small operational facility covertly installed in the basement of the store<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup>, with all sensitive materials and operations located within this half of Outpost-86.</p> <p>Outpost-86 has been designated as a low-risk area suitable for the final stages of Foundation training, most notably for field training with post-mortem anomalies. It is to have a total staff capacity of six, working in shifts of one year, during which time they will receive on-location field experience and remote training.</p> <p>The population of Nx-28 are unaware of its anomalous effects. Broken Hill Mine has been closed to the public through a lobbying operation completed in 1962 with the Nx-28 local government; it is not expected to reopen. As such, the likelihood of civilians being exposed to anomalous phenomena within Nx-28 is low.</p> <p><strong>Containment Facility:</strong> Outpost-86</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> Nx-28 is a former mining town in Western Australia. It is located approximately 537 kilometers from Perth, and sits within the middle of the Australian Outback. From Nx-28's founding in 1890 to 1914, it was one of the largest towns in Western Australia, having gained prominence as a major source of gold and silver. However, these gold and silver reserves quickly dried up, causing the town to become abandoned.</p> <p>Nx-28 was named after the Broken Hill Mine, which itself was named for large scarification inflicted on the ground in order to mine it. Broken Hill Mine was the largest mine in Nx-28, but five smaller mines existed on the outskirts of town. Broken Hill Mine lasted the longest of these, only drying up in 1913<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup>. Currently, Broken Hill Mine is the locus for Nx-28's anomalous effects.</p> <p>Nx-28 is currently the location of a collection of 348 post-mortem vectors<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup> associated with individuals<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup> who died within Broken Hill Mine. These post-mortem vectors are capable of leaving Broken Hill Mine but typically remain within.</p> <p>Broken Hill Mine itself is host to variable topography that does not conform to Euclidean models. The tunnel system of the mine has been greatly expanded since closure. It is estimated that there are over two thousand kilometers of mine shafts within the mine at present: all of these tunnels fit underneath Nx-28 despite the physical impossibility of this location. All expansion has been completed at the hands of the post-mortem vectors.</p> <p><strong>Addendum A:</strong> Interview Log N-28-348.1</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Interview Log Transcript</strong></p> <p><strong>Interviewer:</strong> Junior Researcher Grey</p> <p><strong>Interviewee:</strong> UAE-28-348<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup></p> <p><strong>Date:</strong> June 6th, 1986</p> <hr/> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Hello doctor, thank you for meeting with me here. You have no problems with coming into Outpost-86?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> No, not doctor. You have a number for me now, right?</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Uh, well, yeah… It's "UAE-28-348".</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Yes, that's right. That's who I am now, then. Call me that. And we can talk about me later. The first task of business should be discussion of the original anomaly.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Right… Um…</p> <p><em>JR Grey shuffles around with his papers on the desk.</em></p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Start generally. Just ask any vague question. Let the anomaly do most of the work, ask questions as needed.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Right. So, have you interacted with the other post-mortem vectors within Broken Hill Mine?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> I'm the only person that's going to understand that. Can't use that tone with the other ghosties.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Have you interacted with the other ghosts within Broken Hill Mine?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Yes, I have. All of them are miners from the original mine, but none of them ever gave up on mining. Still trying to strike gold, all of them.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> They're still mining?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> Sure are. That's where all the tunnels are coming from.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> But the mine hasn't been active in decades? Where is all the waste material going?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> You're asking good questions. To be honest, I don't really know what they do with all the rock, just that it never ends. I'm going to try to work on getting a closer look at the mining operations soon to try and answer that.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> That'd be great if you could.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> Look at you, giving me advice.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Why are they still mining? It's been decades.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> All has to do with why they came here in the first place. They came during a gold rush, trying to get rich. But the mine owned all the land out here, and there wasn't much gold to be found on the surface after the first few years anyway. So they started working with the mine, and that was the end of it.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Did everyone die in the mine, like you?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> Indeed they did. Broken Hill Mine was the deadliest of the six here, and from what I can tell there was some interaction with the Factory. I can't tell for certain - just a passing mention once or twice from the miners.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Which factory?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> Ah right, not necessarily something you would be cleared for. It's a group of interest, an anomalous factory. Not too much more than that, frankly.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> I see.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-384:</strong> That might have some connection to why the post-mortem vectors stuck around, but I'm not sure. I didn't have any connection, and neither did the others who came. I think there's just something to be said about unfinished business.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> The others are the three outlier vectors?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Yep. Three unlucky saps who came here thinking they could find gold in an abandoned mine. Not good spelunkers, any of them. All died and joined the rest of the miners. Still digging to this day.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> What's your unfinished business, then?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Mostly academic, I think. There were a few papers I was working on, a unified theory of post-mortem anomalies… Oh, and training the staff here.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Ah. Sorry to keep you.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> If that's why I'm still here, I don't think I'll need to be around much longer. You're doing a great job without me.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Thank you, sir.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> What questions do you have left for me, anyway? About the mine, that is.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Nothing I don't already know… Just your death is the one thing.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Ah, but is this interview for you, or the Foundation as a whole?</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Right, right. Could you talk about how you died?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> I had been investigating the mine on my own. I brought oxygen with me, we knew that was necessary from our basic investigations of the mine. But I got lost in the maze that the mine is and the oxygen ran out. All I remember after that was … waking up next to my own body.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> I'm sorry.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Really, I should be the one apologizing to you. It was my own carelessness that got us here.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> Are you … alright, being a post-mortem vector?</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> On the whole? It's not too bad. I can't leave Nx-28, but I don't have to worry about my body anymore. If I keep my mind sharp, I shouldn't go insane like the rest of the vectors. And I can always come here, to Daly's Station for that.</p> <p><strong>JR Grey:</strong> I'm just happy I can help at all.</p> <p><strong>UAE-28-348:</strong> Me too.</p> <hr/> <p><strong>Postscript:</strong> JR Grey received a Foundation Doctorate in Post-Mortem Studies in 1992, sponsored by UAE-28-348. UAE-28-348 has not demanifested, as initially expected, but has instead elected to remain within Outpost-28 and act as a sponsor for further Foundation PhD candidates.</p> </blockquote> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Daly's Station</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. Outpost-86 was constructed over/inside of an abandoned mineshaft. The basement is this mineshaft.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. Compared to 1893, 1899, 1907, 1910 and 1911 for the other five mines.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Anomalous phenomena associated with the consciousness/personalities of deceased individuals, typically mostly incorporeal.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. 344 are miners who died prior to 1913. Three are local individuals who died in accidents between 1913 and 1956. One is a former Foundation staff member.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. Formerly Foundation Doctor Lucas Richter</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/nx-28">Nx-28</a>" by stormbreath, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/nx-28">https://scpwiki.com/nx-28</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> broken_hotel.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> BigBellHotel2009.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Phcrack<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ABigBellHotel2009.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[[stormbreath]]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=broken_hotel.jpg\|caption=Former hotel within Nx-28; now abandoned.]] Nexus #: Nx-28 Civilian Designation: Broken Hill Population: 562 Area Class: Briar Nexus Interaction Protocol: Outpost-86 has been disguised as a convenience store[[footnote]]Daly's Station[[/footnote]] in Nx-28, with a small operational facility covertly installed in the basement of the store[[footnote]]Outpost-86 was constructed over/inside of an abandoned mineshaft. The basement is this mineshaft.[[/footnote]], with all sensitive materials and operations located within this half of Outpost-86. Outpost-86 has been designated as a low-risk area suitable for the final stages of Foundation training, most notably for field training with post-mortem anomalies. It is to have a total staff capacity of six, working in shifts of one year, during which time they will receive on-location field experience and remote training. The population of Nx-28 are unaware of its anomalous effects. Broken Hill Mine has been closed to the public through a lobbying operation completed in 1962 with the Nx-28 local government; it is not expected to reopen. As such, the likelihood of civilians being exposed to anomalous phenomena within Nx-28 is low. Containment Facility: Outpost-86 Description: Nx-28 is a former mining town in Western Australia. It is located approximately 537 kilometers from Perth, and sits within the middle of the Australian Outback. From Nx-28's founding in 1890 to 1914, it was one of the largest towns in Western Australia, having gained prominence as a major source of gold and silver. However, these gold and silver reserves quickly dried up, causing the town to become abandoned. Nx-28 was named after the Broken Hill Mine, which itself was named for large scarification inflicted on the ground in order to mine it. Broken Hill Mine was the largest mine in Nx-28, but five smaller mines existed on the outskirts of town. Broken Hill Mine lasted the longest of these, only drying up in 1913[[footnote]]Compared to 1893, 1899, 1907, 1910 and 1911 for the other five mines.[[/footnote]]. Currently, Broken Hill Mine is the locus for Nx-28's anomalous effects. Nx-28 is currently the location of a collection of 348 post-mortem vectors[[footnote]]Anomalous phenomena associated with the consciousness/personalities of deceased individuals, typically mostly incorporeal.[[/footnote]] associated with individuals[[footnote]]344 are miners who died prior to 1913. Three are local individuals who died in accidents between 1913 and 1956. One is a former Foundation staff member.[[/footnote]] who died within Broken Hill Mine. These post-mortem vectors are capable of leaving Broken Hill Mine but typically remain within. Broken Hill Mine itself is host to variable topography that does not conform to Euclidean models. The tunnel system of the mine has been greatly expanded since closure. It is estimated that there are over two thousand kilometers of mine shafts within the mine at present: all of these tunnels fit underneath Nx-28 despite the physical impossibility of this location. All expansion has been completed at the hands of the post-mortem vectors. Addendum A: Interview Log N-28-348.1 > Interview Log Transcript > > Interviewer: Junior Researcher Grey > > Interviewee: UAE-28-348[[footnote]]Formerly Foundation Doctor Lucas Richter[[/footnote]] > > Date: June 6th, 1986 > > ---- > > JR Grey: Hello doctor, thank you for meeting with me here. You have no problems with coming into Outpost-86? > > UAE-28-348: No, not doctor. You have a number for me now, right? > > JR Grey: Uh, well, yeah... It's "UAE-28-348". > > UAE-28-348: Yes, that's right. That's who I am now, then. Call me that. And we can talk about me later. The first task of business should be discussion of the original anomaly. > > JR Grey: Right... Um... > > //JR Grey shuffles around with his papers on the desk.// > > UAE-28-348: Start generally. Just ask any vague question. Let the anomaly do most of the work, ask questions as needed. > > JR Grey: Right. So, have you interacted with the other post-mortem vectors within Broken Hill Mine? > > UAE-28-348: I'm the only person that's going to understand that. Can't use that tone with the other ghosties. > > JR Grey: Have you interacted with the other ghosts within Broken Hill Mine? > > UAE-28-348: Yes, I have. All of them are miners from the original mine, but none of them ever gave up on mining. Still trying to strike gold, all of them. > > JR Grey: They're still mining? > > UAE-28-384: Sure are. That's where all the tunnels are coming from. > > JR Grey: But the mine hasn't been active in decades? Where is all the waste material going? > > UAE-28-384: You're asking good questions. To be honest, I don't really know what they do with all the rock, just that it never ends. I'm going to try to work on getting a closer look at the mining operations soon to try and answer that. > > JR Grey: That'd be great if you could. > > UAE-28-384: Look at you, giving me advice. > > JR Grey: Why are they still mining? It's been decades. > > UAE-28-384: All has to do with why they came here in the first place. They came during a gold rush, trying to get rich. But the mine owned all the land out here, and there wasn't much gold to be found on the surface after the first few years anyway. So they started working with the mine, and that was the end of it. > > JR Grey: Did everyone die in the mine, like you? > > UAE-28-384: Indeed they did. Broken Hill Mine was the deadliest of the six here, and from what I can tell there was some interaction with the Factory. I can't tell for certain - just a passing mention once or twice from the miners. > > JR Grey: Which factory? > > UAE-28-384: Ah right, not necessarily something you would be cleared for. It's a group of interest, an anomalous factory. Not too much more than that, frankly. > > JR Grey: I see. > > UAE-28-384: That might have some connection to why the post-mortem vectors stuck around, but I'm not sure. I didn't have any connection, and neither did the others who came. I think there's just something to be said about unfinished business. > > JR Grey: The others are the three outlier vectors? > > UAE-28-348: Yep. Three unlucky saps who came here thinking they could find gold in an abandoned mine. Not good spelunkers, any of them. All died and joined the rest of the miners. Still digging to this day. > > JR Grey: What's your unfinished business, then? > > UAE-28-348: Mostly academic, I think. There were a few papers I was working on, a unified theory of post-mortem anomalies... Oh, and training the staff here. > > JR Grey: Ah. Sorry to keep you. > > UAE-28-348: If that's why I'm still here, I don't think I'll need to be around much longer. You're doing a great job without me. > > JR Grey: Thank you, sir. > > UAE-28-348: What questions do you have left for me, anyway? About the mine, that is. > > JR Grey: Nothing I don't already know... Just your death is the one thing. > > UAE-28-348: Ah, but is this interview for you, or the Foundation as a whole? > > JR Grey: Right, right. Could you talk about how you died? > > UAE-28-348: I had been investigating the mine on my own. I brought oxygen with me, we knew that was necessary from our basic investigations of the mine. But I got lost in the maze that the mine is and the oxygen ran out. All I remember after that was ... waking up next to my own body. > > JR Grey: I'm sorry. > > UAE-28-348: Really, I should be the one apologizing to you. It was my own carelessness that got us here. > > JR Grey: Are you ... alright, being a post-mortem vector? > > UAE-28-348: On the whole? It's not too bad. I can't leave Nx-28, but I don't have to worry about my body anymore. If I keep my mind sharp, I shouldn't go insane like the rest of the vectors. And I can always come here, to Daly's Station for that. > > JR Grey: I'm just happy I can help at all. > > UAE-28-348: Me too. > > ---- > > Postscript: JR Grey received a Foundation Doctorate in Post-Mortem Studies in 1992, sponsored by UAE-28-348. UAE-28-348 has not demanifested, as initially expected, but has instead elected to remain within Outpost-28 and act as a sponsor for further Foundation PhD candidates. [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: broken_hotel.jpg > Name: BigBellHotel2009.jpg > Author: Phcrack > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ABigBellHotel2009.jpg Wikimedia Commons] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-06T20:23:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "fantasy", "tale" ]	Nx-28 - SCP Foundation	43	[ "stormbreath", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nx-28/broken_hotel.jpg" ]	1445952425	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nx-28
occult-warfare	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Two submachine guns were pointed directly at him, five more at his class full of students.</p> <p>"NO MAGIC. SAY NOTHING. SLOWLY RAISE YOUR HAND ABOVE YOUR HEADS."</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>« <a href="/re-kto-1466-houdini">Re: KTO-1466-Houdini "Mages Academy"</a> \| <a href="/mundus-liberari">Mundus, Liberari</a> \|</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Magister Elias Müller had been a member of the <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/magierakademie-hub">Mages Academy</a> for over a decade, earning the rank of Grandmaster. Now a staff member at Budapesti Mágikus Egyetem, the Budapest University of Magic, he was delivering a lecture on the more advanced principles of <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/aetherische-information">Aetheric Informatics</a> when he began to hear loud noises in the corridor. He tried to ignore it, and focus his students' attention on the finer principles underlying the editing of souls, but the noise in the corridor outside his lecture theatre became impossible to ignore. He was about to head over and see what was going on, when the door was thrown open and armed gunmen rushed into the room. <p>"DON'T MOVE!"</p> <p>Two submachine guns were pointed directly at him, five more at his class full of students. There were a few screams, but most people froze in fear, Elias included.</p> <p>"NO MAGIC. SAY NOTHING. SLOWLY RAISE YOUR HAND ABOVE YOUR HEADS."</p> <p>The man shouting was presumably in charge - like all of the others he was dressed in a Hungarian police uniform, and while he carried a weapon he wasn't pointing it at anyone. He stood in the middle of the group of men that had fanned out around the doorway, and watched coldly as the class complied.</p> <p>In a loud but somewhat calmer tone of voice, he continued addressing the room, his eyes scanning across the students then fixing themselves on Elias. "We're the Global Occult Coalition. Do not resist, and you will not be harmed. You've been attending an unauthorised occult institution. We are now shutting it down."</p> <p>He slowly walked towards Elias, moving slightly to the side to ensure he wouldn't obstruct his allies' line of fire. Elias had no idea what to do - he knew multiple spells to protect himself from bullets, he also knew that there was no way to cast them faster than a trained gunman could pull a trigger. If they knew they were fighting mages, they wouldn't hesitate if they even got the slightest suspicion that he might be trying something.</p> <p>The words of his mentor echoed in his mind, almost mockingly. <em>A man who waits until battle begins to don his armour is as good as dead…</em> Unfortunately, Elias had not been paranoid enough to expect an attack this morning.</p> <p>The sounds of loud footsteps, shouting, and the slamming of doors echoed from the rest of the building. The GOC agent that had been speaking had now put away his gun and instead taken out a roll of adhesive tape, tearing off a strip of it and holding it up to Elias's mouth.</p> <p>"We will be taking precautions to prevent the casting of magic. Remain calm, do not resist."</p> <p>Elias did not. While part of him felt like he should, another part was simply relieved that they seemed intent on taking them in alive and unharmed. There were many ways to incapacitate a mage, but few of them were pleasant. As the tape was placed onto his upper lip, Elias expected hand restrains would come next to immobilise his fingers, and resigned himself to it.</p> <p><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">"Ékrixi!"</span></p> <p>The doorway exploded, and every student in the room began screaming.</p> <p>Elias and the man who'd been covering his mouth were far enough away to only be startled, but the bright ball of fire knocked five of the gunmen to the ground and had the other two staggering back. Before it had fully dissipated, a familiar voice called out <span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">"Astrapē!"</span> and lightning forked into the room through the doorway, striking the five of the men on the ground with a blinding flash and a deafening boom. They twitched, then went still.</p> <p>Archmagister Szabó Janos strode into the room, an elderly man wearing spectacles and a tie. The two remaining gunmen spun around to face him.</p> <p><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">"Témnō."</span> With a slashing gesture made with his left hand, Szabó cut through the air and sliced open one man's throat. He was classically educated, and preferred to cast his spells in Ancient Greek. The other man opened fire, but the bullets ricocheted off an invisible barrier around Szabó as he clenched his right fist. Thrusting it forwards, he yelled <span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">"Túptō!"</span> The gunman tried to duck, but Szabó had anticipated that, and the spell struck his head with a loud thud and enough force to knock him off his feet.</p> <p>The leader of the group concluded that shooting Szabó was a lost cause, and instead he placed a pistol to Elias's head and placed a pistol to his head, too fast . "Stop, or I'll shoot!"</p> <p>Szabó froze, standing on scorched wood surrounded by the bodies of dead men. The room became silent except for occasional sobs of terror from the students. When they'd come here to study magic, they weren't expecting anything like this.</p> <p>Szabó stared intently at the last GOC agent. "It seems we have a stalemate." There were loud sounds in the rest of the building, but Szabó seemed unconcerned about any reinforcements, his full attention fixed on the hostage-taker.</p> <p>"Stop talking!"</p> <p>"There's nothing I can do to help." He looked intently at Elias.</p> <p>Szabó had entered just in time to interrupt the GOC agent - while the tape was covering Elias's mouth, it wasn't sealed onto his lips properly. Szabó continued speaking, and as the soldier shouted at him to remain silent, he didn't notice Elias quietly saying <span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">"Repello"</span>. He did notice when Elias thrust out his arms, but by the time the gun fired his magical shield was up, deflecting the bullet off at an angle and throwing the agent back. Elias dropped to the floor, physically unharmed but with a painful ringing in his right ear. He could block the bullet, but the sound of the gunshot was still deafening.</p> <p>When Elias got to his feet, the final soldier was dead, his face smashed in by Szabó's striking spell.</p> <p>"Quick thinking, Magister Müller. However, if you had been more aware of your surroundings, this would not have been necessary." Szabó turned to the entire class. "As you might have guessed, we are under attack. We will now be leaving."</p> <p>He gestured at the corridor leading to the lecture theatre, chanting words in Ancient Greek, and the walls warped inwards, narrowing the space. He then gestured at the opposite wall, and the brickwork of the back wall rearranged itself into a doorway. He strode confidently out, leaving Müller to grab his spellbook from the desk and usher the students out after him.</p> <p>They emerged on the other side of the Danube, the warping of space that enabled the entire Budapest Campus of the Mages Academy to fit inside a single building now unfolding to place them outside the perimeter the GOC had established. They'd have to get moving quickly, they were close enough for their building to still be visible on the other side of the river, surrounded by a swarm of police cars and armed gunmen.</p> <p>"I guess this is over," said Elias, with some regret.</p> <p>The Budapest Mages Academy had officially shut down during the Soviet occupation of Hungary following the end of the Second World War. Szabó had stayed until 1950s, participating in the uprising in 1956, but following its failure he had fled the country as an enemy of the state. His combat experience had made him a valued teacher for the Mages Academy's Charter Enforcers, but his fondest wish had always been to re-establish an institute of magic in the country of his birth. After the fall of Communism in the 1990s he'd seized his opportunity to do that, establishing the Budapesti Mágikus Egyetem, but now they were on the run again. This time from the GOC, another group unwilling to tolerate any occult organisation outside their control.</p> <p>Szabó cast a quick communication charm, then began speaking. "Is everyone out? No, not including the Coalition… Excellent. You sure we're all out? Well, get to a safe distance… Probably further than that."</p> <p>Elias had learned enough Ancient Greek to understand Archmagister Szabó's spells, although he personally preferred to cast in Latin. This was a more complex spell than usual, and the Ritual could not be compressed into a single word.</p> <p><span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">"I Have Made, I Will Unmake. I Have Folded, I Will Unfold. I Have Contained, I Will Release. Hecate. Pandora. Nix."</span></p> <p>The invocation of deities and mythical figures was not technically necessary, but Szabó insisted that it gave spells a certain flare. Elias couldn't help but agree as he watched every window of their building explode outwards, as the extra space that had carefully been folded within the building suddenly expanded outwards. This was immediately followed by the rapid collapse of the entire building, the roof caving in as the brick walls crumbled.</p> <p>He remembered a lecture a few years ago, on the topic of spatial distortion. While it was possible to fit far more space into a volume than it would normally hold, Szabó had warned them that it came with a certain pressure that needed to be carefully contained. He'd analogised it to inflating a balloon with air, and it seemed that this was what it looked like if the balloon was burst.</p> <p>"And to think…" Elias muttered. "You could have done that… at any time…"</p> <p>"Not at any time," clarified Szabó reassuringly. "Certain wards prevented it. The same wards the Coalition broke through on their way in, actually. Saved me the trouble of dismantling them, which was, of course, exactly as planned."</p> <p>"Still… To destroy all we've built in the last two decades, so quickly…"</p> <p>Szabó turned away, his mouth smiling but his eyes cold. "It's not the building that matters. It's the people inside it."</p> <p>Elias hoped he was referring to the student's who'd gotten out, but feared that he may actually be referring to the GOC agents that had been trapped within.</p> <hr/> <p>It had been weeks since they fled from Budapest to the extradimensional enclave of Sjhlfels am Rhein, but Elias was filled with looming dread the entire time. They were safe for now, but after the fall of Three Portlands and the invasion of the Wanderer's Library, it had become clear that the GOC would not be respecting Sjhlfel's sovereignty for much longer. They would need an army if they hoped to defend it, and so the Magistrate, the ruling body of the Mages Academy, took the unprecedented step of summoning all of their students and graduates to this one location.</p> <p>Most never made it - some surrendered, others were captured or killed, and many more went into hiding. The GOC had made it clear that they would not tolerate the practice of magic by anyone not under their control, and there were members of the Mages Academy felt that the wisest course of action was to submit to the Global Occult Coalition and negotiate a peaceful resolution to the conflict.</p> <p>Archmagister Szabó Janos had never been one of them. As soon as he'd gotten to Sjhlfels am Rhein, he'd began reinforcing the defensive wards around the Sjhlfelser Hochschule für Angewandte Magie, the Sjhlfels University for Applied Magic, planning ways to impede a GOC advance. He laughed bitterly at any suggestion that they might be able to negotiate a peaceful settlement - he insisted that the Coalition wanted capitulation, not compromise. Their options were to surrender, or to fight.</p> <p>There were two ways into Sjhlfels - one way was by water, approaching from the Rhein Delta in the Netherlands, and the other way was by land, approaching through the Sihl Valley in Switzerland. Local residents were always humorously debating whether they lived in a Dutch town in the mountains, or a Swiss town by the sea. After living there for a few weeks, Elias concluded that the town was a bizarre but endearing mixture of both, the only place in the world where a living Nälkä temple looked completely at home next to traditional Swiss and Dutch architecture.</p> <p>Although a pleasant place to live, Sjhlfels am Rhein would not be particularly defensible once the GOC entered the extradimensional space. They'd presumably attempt to come in by land and by water, to prevent the defenders from escaping, and while their advance could be slowed by building barricades across roads and docks, Sjhlfels was no fortress. They could hold the GOC off for a while, but there would be little they could do if the GOC really wanted to take the city.</p> <p>Elias had been working closely with Szabó whenever he wasn't busy teaching other Mages. For now, he'd set aside the more advanced theoretical principles of magic and the Astral Energy that fuelled it, to instead focus on helping his students to master spells with combat applications. At Szabó's insistence, the curriculum primarily focused on defense, mobility and stealth rather than offense, since a mage that drew everyone's attention with a flashy fireball was unlikely to survive the battle, unless that mage was also bulletproof and invisible, and ideally behind cover in a fortified position.</p> <hr/> <p>Now that the GOC had arrived, Elias had been glad for Szabó's insistence that only those mages that could properly protect themselves be sent out to stop them. As he looked out of a window on the second floor of one of the Swiss townhouses lining the streets of southern Sjhlfel, he couldn't help but feel exposed. He was shielded by magic and wearing an invisibility cloak, not to mention concealed by the gloom and pouring rain from the thunderstorm they'd created over Sjhlfels, but the Strike Team in the street below marched towards them like knights in armor.</p> <p><a href="/goc-supplemental-equipment">"White Suit"</a> was such an innocuous term for the clothing they wore. It was bulky, made from layers of metal, ceramic and carbon fibre, but the internal power source made sure that the wearer's movements were unimpeded by the weights, while a cloaking device bent light around it to make it invisible to the unaided eye.</p> <p>Elias's eyes were aided by magic, and by gazing into the Astral Plane he could perceive the outlines of the White Suits as they climbed over the crude barricade of rubble and furniture that blocked the street below. The GOC had now made it into Sjhlfels proper, and initial reports from skirmishes on the outskirts of the town reported that the boxy assault rifles they carried, apparently a new addition to their arsenal, fired pure telekinetic force with no projectile. It ignored cover and bypassed all protective wards. The Mages would have to rely on surprise, stealth and mobility if they hoped to stop them.</p> <p>Elias looked out the window, raised up a hand to the dark grey sky above, and said "<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Fulmena</span>"!</p> <p>The storm overhead was a repository of power that they'd built up over the last few weeks, and calling down lightning took almost no effort at all. With a bright flash, lightning forked down to struck the GOC Strike Team as it moved through the streets.</p> <p>Elias immediately moved away from the window.</p> <p>A single lightning bolt wouldn't take out a man wearing a White Suit - while earlier models had been more vulnerable to this kind of attack, the armour was now built with a conductive outer layer and an insulating inner layer, allowing it to rapidly disperse heat and electricity. In effect, every White Suit was a Faraday cage.</p> <p>With that said, their sensory and concealment systems were not quite as well protected as the people inside. They would be blinded, deafened, and very visible, at least until they could reboot.</p> <p>From buildings all around the Strike Team, the follow up attack came as mages revealed themselves, opening or breaking windows to establish line-of-effect.</p> <p>"<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Stamine armis</span>!"</p> <p>They'd known the GOC was coming, and they'd known their armor was nearly impenetrable. Szabo had suggested that they simply turn that against them, and Elias had worked out how to do it. It turns out that it took surprisingly little Arcane Energy to twist the armor plating into a new shape - doing it remotely was difficult, but was still far easier than trying to break through it.</p> <p>Elias knew he was imagining that he could hear bones breaking in the street below. He was in the house's staircase, running down to the next floor, and the sound would be too quiet to hear over the rain and wind.</p> <p>He placed his left hand on a small piece of plating that had been retrieved from a White Suit in Hamberg, using it as the material component to focus his magic, then ran out from the stairwell and over to a window, to stretched out his right hand. "<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Stamine armis</span>!" he said, targeting the helmet of one of the men still on his feet as he curled his fingers inwards.</p> <p>The material, identical the the substance he was holding in his hand, suddenly warped inwards, crushing the man's head in a vice like grip. But while that would cause an almost loss of consciousness, spells targeted at the torso or limbs were less effective, and the GOC returned fire at any mages they could see.</p> <p>Elias dove away from the window, knowing that if one of those guns was fired at him, he'd be the one with broken bones. As he dashed down the stairs to reach the ground floor, he glanced across the hallway to see a corpse with a shattered skull lying on the floor. Someone had been too slow.</p> <p>It was hard to even recognise who it was, but after a moment Elias remembered Anya Berg had been downstairs. He'd insisted she stay on the ground floor, to be the one closest to the exit. At the time, he'd thought that would ensure she made it out alive.</p> <p>With a sick feeling in his stomach, he realised he was wasting time. He ran into the house's kitchen, sprinting towards the short range Way they'd created earlier, in the doorway to the pantry.</p> <p>Elias suddenly felt a sharp pain just below his left shoulder. There was no warning, no loud gunshot or flash of light, just the loud crunch of breaking bone.</p> <p>Safely on the other side of the Way, now in a completely different building, he looked down at his limp left arm, and screamed.</p> <p>He didn't stop until he ran out of breath.</p> <p>It seemed to take a very long time.</p> <hr/> <p>They quickly had his arm in a sling, wrapping it in bandages to hold it in place. There was no time for an X-ray, but they were pretty sure it was a clean break, rather like the kind of wound that would be inflicted by being hit by a hammer.</p> <p>He didn't feel lucky, but compared to some of the other people he'd seen in the field hospital, he definitely was. Not to mention the people like Anya, the ones who hadn't made it back at all. Elias could at least walk, unlike the people with broken legs or fractured skulls being carried away on stretchers. One woman had been hit in the stomach, and it seemed that all they could do for her was give enough morphine to make her death more comfortable.</p> <p>The defenders of Sjhlfels am Rhein had hoped that they might be able to push the Coalition forces back, but it seemed the GOC would keep advancing until they took all of Sjhlfels, no matter how many men they lost. Elias wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but it seemed that while the defence of the docks had prevented the GOC's amphibious landing, their land-based assault had broken through the defences, and any remaining defenders in the south of the city would quickly be outflanked and overrun. At this point, the defenders of Sjhlfels were in full retreat. Of course, they'd left behind enough traps and obstacles, magical and mundane, to slow the GOC's advance. Still, the sounds of war were getting louder. It was time to go.</p> <p>Elias was still in pain, but with his left arm immobilised it was manageable, and so he'd be expected to walk himself out. However, rather than following everyone else to the temporary Way out of Sjhlfels am Rhein that the mages had set up, he instead turned towards the campus of the Sjhlfelser Hochschule für Angewandte Magie. Once he was out of the crowd, Elias moved as fast as he could without jolting his arm too much. A medic called Marc Fontaine tried to stop him, but Elias yelled that he'd be back soon, and headed towards the structure known colloquially as the Wizard's Tower.</p> <p>It offered a panoramic view of the city, taller than every other building in Shjhlfels except for the Superprime Tower in the business district, and so Szabó had decided to coordinate the defence of the city from the very top. While it was an obvious target, the wards around the SHAM's campus prevented anything that had not been specifically permitted from passing through. The GOC would eventually break them, but the barrier would hold for now.</p> <p>Elias ran through empty university buildings until he reached the bottom of a spiral staircase. Climbing hundreds of steps would take far too long, so he stepped into a circle of runes in the middle of the stairwell.</p> <p>While he'd done this many times before, his stomach lurched as he fell upwards before coming to a halt at the top, where he stepped out into the landing at the top of the circular Wizard's Tower. There was a stabbing pain in his broken right arm, and Elias took a moment to gasp for breath.</p> <p>Szabó turned away from the window's all around the room to face him, the old man looking at his wounded shoulder with concern. "Magister Müller, it seems you're injured."</p> <p>Elias frowned. "That's not really what I'm worried about!"</p> <p>There was a bright flash and loud explosion from behind Szabó. It seems like the GOC had set up artillery to break through the wards preventing them from advancing further.</p> <p>Szabó scrutinised his left arm, immobilised by a sling. "You will wish you'd heard this sooner, but we managed to get hold of some of those rifles. If you create a magnetic field around you, you will be shielded from the telekinetic attack."</p> <p>With his magically enhanced vision, Elias could see that Szabó had already cast that spell, along with many other wards to protect himself from harm. "Fine. I'll cast that." Creating a magnetic shield was a trivial matter, but Szabó seemed insistent he did it before leaving. "There. Done. But come on! The wards won't hold much longer!"</p> <p>There was another explosion, even louder than the first, and the whole tower shook.</p> <p>Szabó shook his head. "They'll hold longer if I remain here."</p> <p>Elias was confused. "We need to go!"</p> <p>Szabó looked at him sternly, and said "You need to go." There was a definite emphasis on the first word. "I'll stay right here."</p> <p>"What? No! Come on!"</p> <p>Szabó shook his head. "I'm an old man. I only have one thing left to teach you."</p> <p>Elias shook his head as Szabó spoke, his words punctuated by the sound of guns. He could see the old man was preparing himself to cast something, and doubted it was to get them out of there.</p> <p>"Mister Müller, magic comes with many rules and restrictions, intended for your own safety, or the safety of others." Szabó smiled, and the look in his eyes was chilling. "All of them can be ignored."</p> <p>"What are you…"</p> <p>"We cannot win, so I intend to make our loss ruinous to the enemy. I suggest you start running. I would be very disappointed if you died here with me."</p> <p>Ignoring Elias stuttered protests, he began to chant in ancient Greek, and Elias noticed that he was now standing in the center of a ritual circle - the same circle used to create the thunderstorm that raged above them, but modified, to call the storm down into a whirlwind.</p> <p>Even at at glance, it was clear that there was no way to safely channel that much energy, not alone and not before the wards fell. But it was clear that Szabó did not intend to do this safely. As Szabo began to cast what was clearly intended to be his final spell, Elias turned away from him with tears in his eyes.</p> <p>He jumped back down the center of the Wizard's Tower, magic slowing his fall, and hit the ground running.</p> <hr/> <p>Szabó had been a mage for many decades, but had never attempted something as ill-advised as the ritual he was currently casting. If any of his students had seriously considered doing something like this, Szabó would have threatened them with expulsion for reckless endangerment. But Szabó knew exactly what he was doing.</p> <p>Astral Energy flowed through his body, then out into the storm above that he'd carefully created, with the help of others and over the course of several days. Now, as the GOC continued to pound against the wards around the SHAM with tank rounds and mortar shells, he began to reshape the storm, magically rewriting the attributes that governed its behaviour. There was no time to do it elegantly, so he compensated by putting as much energy as he could channel into the task.</p> <p>He really hoped that Elias had made it out OK. He was touched that the young man had come back for him, even if it was very foolish.</p> <p>The storm above Szabó began to intensify, cracking with lightning that indiscriminately struck any GOC personnel that got too close. At this point, the only GOC footsoldiers close to the SHAM were Strike Teams of battlemages, warded against lightning and ready to charge in as soon as the wards fell. From the way that their forces were arrayed, they clearly thought that the university campus was packed with mages, and that this would be the site of the Academy's final stand.</p> <p>Instead, there was only one old man with nothing to lose but his life.</p> <p>Szabó broke the wards himself as he called down the storm with a final incantation: "<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Nemesis. Typhon. Zeus</span>." Even with his preparations, the amount of Astral Energy required was overwhelming. As Szabo felt an unfamiliar presence in his mind, he knew that it was now all over, one way or another.</p> <hr/> <p>Elias ran as fast as possible, towards the docks and the closest Way out of Sjhlfels. The Mages had created numerous evacuation points throughout the city, extradimensional shortcuts that would lead people out of Sjhlfels to safe locations on Earth.</p> <p>He knew he wouldn't quite make it before Szabó finished, but he should be far enough away for his own personal protective spells to shield him.</p> <p>Behind him, all hell broke lose.</p> <p>A vortex of wind formed around the Wizards tower, and began tearing the entire building apart, ripping off roof tiles and propelling them outwards as deadly projectiles. The hurricane-force winds spread through Sjhlfels, tossing aside armored GOC troops like ragdolls. At the heart of the storm, Szabó Janos's body glowed with Astral Energy, shining so brightly that there was no way for the GOC to miss him.</p> <p>Realising what was happening, everything that was left standing began firing at him, a barrage of missiles, bullets, lasers and spells.</p> <p>The problem they faced was that Szabó had channelled far more energy than any human could safely handle, and that was the kind of thing that drew dangerous attention to a mage. His power and skill was now at the disposal of the Astral Being that had taken control of his mind, and it was a trivial matter for it to shield itself against such pitiful attacks. The onslaught did succeed in getting the Astral Being's attention, and it focused Szabó's eyes on the forces arrayed against it.</p> <p>Elias ran faster.</p> <p>The entity that had taken Szabó's body took flight as the Wizard's Tower of Sjhlfels collapsed beneath it. Cloaked in a vortex of gale-force winds, the old man's body began to erratically rise and fall within the heart of the storm, preventing the GOC from getting a clear shot.</p> <p>For the first time in its existence the Astral Being experienced nausea, a physical sensation that was almost overwhelming before it regained control of Szabó Janos's body. It could hear the old man's thoughts, a mixture of terror and anger that insisted he move the center of the storm away from the ruins of the SHAM and towards the GOC's front line.</p> <p>The Astral Being looked down as the pitiful humans that were trying to destroy it, and decided the old man had a point. He should make it very clear how insignificant they were, compared to the power it now controlled.</p> <p>The GOC, for the first time that day, began to retreat. Although they would prefer to phrase it as the tactical redeployment of assets. They were an Occult Coalition after all, and they did have people who could fight a hurricane and win.</p> <p>Most of the battlemages at the perimeter of the SHAM had been killed, wounded or forced to withdraw by the sudden intensification of the storm, but Strike Team 0021 "Major Arcana" had been kept in reserve, just in case something like this happened. Twenty-two of the GOC's finest battlemages were now authorised to take flight and head into the maelstrom, to overwhelm whatever was causing it with everything at their disposal.</p> <p>The Astral Being lashed out with lightning, but their defensive wards simply redirected it around them as they moved through the air to surround it.</p> <p>The Astral Being considered other angles of attack, but it was unlikely that any of them would work - these thaumatologists had had plenty of time to prepare, and would have warded themselves against as many types of energy as possible. While Szabó's body was also warded against harm, there was a chance one of these mages had an angle of attack Szabó hadn't anticipated.</p> <p>The old man then recalled something he'd been working on in secret, and the Astral Being drew back the old man's lips into a smile. Raising his hand, it spoke one word: "<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Sparagmo</span>!"</p> <p>The jagged white line that extended from his palm and towards the closest battlemage resembled lightning, but unlike lightning it lingered, frozen in the air. As the mage collided with it, he was immediately sliced in half. His comrades looked on in shock. There was something about the glowing line that looked very wrong.</p> <p>The Astral Being, observing how effectively this bypassed their wards, and sensing mingled satisfaction and terror in what remained of Szabó's mind, said another word: "<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Thrymmatizo</span>!" It accompanied this with a violent striking motion, and cracks like forked lightning extended outwards as space itself shattered. The thaumatologists scattered, but two of them were not fast enough, one loosing an arm and the other a foot, clean cuts that began bleeding profusely.</p> <p>Elias thought he'd already been going as fast as he could, but once he glanced over his shoulder to see the web of cracks in the fabric of reality itself, he discovered he had a bit more speed still left in him. He remembered Szabo mentioning this technique a while ago, when discussing why certain forms of magic were forbidden. Rending reality was a technique that even the most reckless and deranged magic users hesitated to use, simply because the damage it dealt to the fabric of space only got worse with time. If Szabo, or more accurately the Astral Being that had seized control of his body, kept this up, it was likely that the entire city of Sjhlfels am Rhein would collapse into the Astral Plane. As the GOC battlemages frantically struggled to take out the Astral Being, attacking with blasts of heat and light and force, and with curses of sickness, madness and death, the backlash from their spellcasting only worsened the damage to reality.</p> <p>The closest Way out of Sjhlfels not already overrun by the GOC was in a tall townhouse in the more Dutch northern half of Sjhlfels. With relief, Elias ran towards a waving Marc Fontaine. "Cutting it close, Elias!"</p> <p>Elias was touched that the medic had waited for him, but Marc clearly had no idea of the danger they were all in. Elias ran towards the door behind him, intending to drag the man with him through the Way if that was what it took to get them both out alive.</p> <p>Marc suddenly staggered, a series of invisible impacts shattering his ribs. Elias glanced over to his left to see the outlines of four GOC White Suits, visible to Elias's enhanced vision but invisible to everyone else.</p> <p>They took aim with their weapons at Elias, but had no effect. It seemed the shield Szabó had insisted he cast really did protect him.</p> <p>Elias turned to face them as the wind howled around him, his face illuminated by the glow from the cracks still spreading across the sky. He slipped the fragment of armor into his sling, grasped it tightly in his left hand, then reached out with his right.</p> <p>"<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Stamine armis</span>!" He curled his fingers inwards in a crushing motion.</p> <p>The breastplate of one of the GOC soldiers folded inwards, and the man fell to the ground as his ribs broke.</p> <p>The other three realised what was going on, and discarded their telekinetic weapons to draw alternative firearms.</p> <p>Elias realised he should have continued running, dashed through the doorway behind Marc's body, then slammed it behind him. Bullets, plasma and a laser beam tore through the space where he'd been standing only moments before.</p> <p>"<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;">Claude</span>!" he yelled, magically locking the door behind him. A few seconds later one of the GOC soldiers slammed into it with full force, but it remained closed. It would not hold for long.</p> <p>Elias frantically looked around the room until he saw a seemingly empty doorway with arcane symbols painted around it, and dashed through to emerge in a building in rural Bavaria, crowded with refugees from Sjhlfels.</p> <p>Elias immediately used magic to shatter the doorframe behind him, disrupting the Way to ensure he wasn't followed.</p> <hr/> <p>Elias heard later that the GOC had won, taking control of what was left of Sjhlfels am Rhein, although their casualties had been a lot higher than expected. From what he heard from someone who scried the whole thing, a casting of thirteen different curses plus the acceleration of time eventually overwhelmed the Astral Being possessing Szabó. It was probably for the best - it had needed to be put down, or it would likely have moved on from destroying Sjhlfels to tearing apart the rest of the reality. Still, Elias missed the old man, and wasn't sure what to do without him. His academic career had consisted mostly of following Szabó around, and it wasn't like he could go back to teaching.</p> <p>People like Elias were fortunate - while there were ways to conceal it, anyone with a non-human appearance would find it much harder to hide from the Coalition. Still, Elias kept out of the big cities. He'd heard the GOC had been fitting EVE scanners on CCTV cameras, and even if that wasn't true there was a chance they'd recognise his face.</p> <p>It took a week for his arm to heal - while he accelerated it with magic, there was a limit to what he could do if he didn't want to grow a tumour or start sprouting spikes of bone from his elbow. He may be a mage, but he wasn't a fleshcrafter.</p> <p>Once he'd recovered, he spent a few weeks travelling across Eastern Germany, using a false ID he'd had made in Sjhlfels to pass himself off as "Elliot Braun". However, with no safe way to access to his old bank account, he was quickly running out of Euros. He knew that if he settled down in a small town and never cast magic again, he might be able to avoid the Coalition for years. Probably for the rest of his life. He just wasn't sure he wanted to.</p> <p>He made his way to <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/bawarao-hub">Outer Lichtenberg</a>, a paranormal enclave on the outskirts of Berlin.</p> <p>This place was very different to Sjhlfels am Rhein. Whereas that pocket dimension had been spacious, offering views of the Alps on one side and the North Sea on the other, Outer Lichtenberg was a crowded mess of grimy industrial buildings and poorly maintained apartments. But it was safe. Both the Nazis and the Stasi had tried to tame it, and both had failed. The GOC had been no more successful, with all of their attempts to navigate the winding alleyways resulting in them heading back out into regular Lichtenberg. Something about the place resisted any effort to take control of it.</p> <p>Elias just wanted a place to lie low and meet up with other mages, which made Outer Lichtenberg perfect. The local residents were suspicious at first, but most were sympathetic once they heard where he'd came from, and he was able to help out with maintenance using a few basic spells.</p> <p>Elias had never been the type to go to parties, and wasn't really in the mood for one anyway, but after a couple of weeks of living there he found himself sipping a glass of some truly terrible home-brewed beer, as several anartists had an incomprehensible conversation about politics. Elias spent most of the evening staring at painting on the wall that looked and moved a bit like a lava lamp, but somehow the conversation came round to him.</p> <p>"Well, what do you think?" Fats Berg, a skinny young man who had insisted Elias come, looked over at him expectantly. "Is it worth fighting, even if you can't win?"</p> <p>Elias had a moment to think. "I don't know."</p> <p>That got him some disappointed looks.</p> <p>Elias shrugged apologetically. "We convinced ourselves that we could defend Sjhlfels, but when you really think about it, more of us would have gotten out if we'd ran sooner."</p> <p>"Well, you made it cost them, didn't you?" This came from Judas al-Zaman, a Palestinian immigrant with a mess of dark hair. They'd once tried to have a conversation about magic, but it had quickly been clear that he didn't understand even the basics of Astral Manipulation. People here seemed to be more into praxis than theory.</p> <p>Elias thought for a moment.</p> <p>Someone else spoke up, a woman with long brown hair and flecks of paint that occasionally moved across her face. Julia Reinhardt, the Painter of the piece on the wall. "Yeah, and it won't be the last time. I heard from the Critic that if the GOC comes here again, let him know. He's got people in the Protectorate that have scores to settle with the fascists."</p> <p>There was some murmurs of agreement with that idea, as well as a loud cry of "Fuck the Critic!", which everyone also agreed to.</p> <p>Elias was sceptical. He'd heard about the Security and Containment Protectorate, everyone seemed to be signing up, but he wasn't sure what they even expected to do. "So what's their plan? We keep losing until we wear down the New World Order?"</p> <p>Fats frowned, uncomfortable on Elias's behalf. "Sorry. I know you lost people. We should… probably talk about something else?"</p> <p>There was a long and awkward pause, before Elias smiled. "It's fine. We've gotten used to losing."</p> <p>He downed his drink, then grimaced. It really was awful beer. "But the way I see it, that actually gives us an edge. As soon as we stand up to them, and things stop going to plan, they're going to get scared. People are going to start wondering if they're really willing to die just to keep the Coalition in power."</p> <p>Judas looked sceptical. "You think they're just going to give up?"</p> <p>"No. But we can convince them they should." Elias stood up, unsteady on his feet but more confident than he'd felt for a month. He hoped that wasn't just because he'd been drinking. "You say there's a Protectorate planning to hit the Coalition back? Count me in."</p> <p>If the GOC came for him, he'd at least go down fighting.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>« <a href="/re-kto-1466-houdini">Re: KTO-1466-Houdini "Mages Academy"</a> \| <a href="/mundus-liberari">Mundus, Liberari</a> \|</p> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= Two submachine guns were pointed directly at him, five more at his class full of students. "NO MAGIC. SAY NOTHING. SLOWLY RAISE YOUR HAND ABOVE YOUR HEADS." ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --header-title: "SCProtectorate"; --header-subtitle: "Mundus, Liberari"; --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/mundus-liberari/MundusLiberari.png"); [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] << [[[re-kto-1466-houdini\| Re: KTO-1466-Houdini "Mages Academy"]]] \| [[[mundus-liberari\|Mundus, Liberari]]] \| [[/=]] @@ @@ Magister Elias Müller had been a member of the [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/magierakademie-hub Mages Academy] for over a decade, earning the rank of Grandmaster. Now a staff member at Budapesti Mágikus Egyetem, the Budapest University of Magic, he was delivering a lecture on the more advanced principles of [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/aetherische-information Aetheric Informatics] when he began to hear loud noises in the corridor. He tried to ignore it, and focus his students' attention on the finer principles underlying the editing of souls, but the noise in the corridor outside his lecture theatre became impossible to ignore. He was about to head over and see what was going on, when the door was thrown open and armed gunmen rushed into the room. "DON'T MOVE!" Two submachine guns were pointed directly at him, five more at his class full of students. There were a few screams, but most people froze in fear, Elias included. "NO MAGIC. SAY NOTHING. SLOWLY RAISE YOUR HAND ABOVE YOUR HEADS." The man shouting was presumably in charge - like all of the others he was dressed in a Hungarian police uniform, and while he carried a weapon he wasn't pointing it at anyone. He stood in the middle of the group of men that had fanned out around the doorway, and watched coldly as the class complied. In a loud but somewhat calmer tone of voice, he continued addressing the room, his eyes scanning across the students then fixing themselves on Elias. "We're the Global Occult Coalition. Do not resist, and you will not be harmed. You've been attending an unauthorised occult institution. We are now shutting it down." He slowly walked towards Elias, moving slightly to the side to ensure he wouldn't obstruct his allies' line of fire. Elias had no idea what to do - he knew multiple spells to protect himself from bullets, he also knew that there was no way to cast them faster than a trained gunman could pull a trigger. If they knew they were fighting mages, they wouldn't hesitate if they even got the slightest suspicion that he might be trying something. The words of his mentor echoed in his mind, almost mockingly. //A man who waits until battle begins to don his armour is as good as dead...// Unfortunately, Elias had not been paranoid enough to expect an attack this morning. The sounds of loud footsteps, shouting, and the slamming of doors echoed from the rest of the building. The GOC agent that had been speaking had now put away his gun and instead taken out a roll of adhesive tape, tearing off a strip of it and holding it up to Elias's mouth. "We will be taking precautions to prevent the casting of magic. Remain calm, do not resist." Elias did not. While part of him felt like he should, another part was simply relieved that they seemed intent on taking them in alive and unharmed. There were many ways to incapacitate a mage, but few of them were pleasant. As the tape was placed onto his upper lip, Elias expected hand restrains would come next to immobilise his fingers, and resigned himself to it. [[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]"Ékrixi!"[[/span]] The doorway exploded, and every student in the room began screaming. Elias and the man who'd been covering his mouth were far enough away to only be startled, but the bright ball of fire knocked five of the gunmen to the ground and had the other two staggering back. Before it had fully dissipated, a familiar voice called out [[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]"Astrapē!"[[/span]] and lightning forked into the room through the doorway, striking the five of the men on the ground with a blinding flash and a deafening boom. They twitched, then went still. Archmagister Szabó Janos strode into the room, an elderly man wearing spectacles and a tie. The two remaining gunmen spun around to face him. [[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]"Témnō."[[/span]] With a slashing gesture made with his left hand, Szabó cut through the air and sliced open one man's throat. He was classically educated, and preferred to cast his spells in Ancient Greek. The other man opened fire, but the bullets ricocheted off an invisible barrier around Szabó as he clenched his right fist. Thrusting it forwards, he yelled [[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]"Túptō!"[[/span]] The gunman tried to duck, but Szabó had anticipated that, and the spell struck his head with a loud thud and enough force to knock him off his feet. The leader of the group concluded that shooting Szabó was a lost cause, and instead he placed a pistol to Elias's head and placed a pistol to his head, too fast . "Stop, or I'll shoot!" Szabó froze, standing on scorched wood surrounded by the bodies of dead men. The room became silent except for occasional sobs of terror from the students. When they'd come here to study magic, they weren't expecting anything like this. Szabó stared intently at the last GOC agent. "It seems we have a stalemate." There were loud sounds in the rest of the building, but Szabó seemed unconcerned about any reinforcements, his full attention fixed on the hostage-taker. "Stop talking!" "There's nothing I can do to help." He looked intently at Elias. Szabó had entered just in time to interrupt the GOC agent - while the tape was covering Elias's mouth, it wasn't sealed onto his lips properly. Szabó continued speaking, and as the soldier shouted at him to remain silent, he didn't notice Elias quietly saying [[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]"Repello"[[/span]]. He did notice when Elias thrust out his arms, but by the time the gun fired his magical shield was up, deflecting the bullet off at an angle and throwing the agent back. Elias dropped to the floor, physically unharmed but with a painful ringing in his right ear. He could block the bullet, but the sound of the gunshot was still deafening. When Elias got to his feet, the final soldier was dead, his face smashed in by Szabó's striking spell. "Quick thinking, Magister Müller. However, if you had been more aware of your surroundings, this would not have been necessary." Szabó turned to the entire class. "As you might have guessed, we are under attack. We will now be leaving." He gestured at the corridor leading to the lecture theatre, chanting words in Ancient Greek, and the walls warped inwards, narrowing the space. He then gestured at the opposite wall, and the brickwork of the back wall rearranged itself into a doorway. He strode confidently out, leaving Müller to grab his spellbook from the desk and usher the students out after him. They emerged on the other side of the Danube, the warping of space that enabled the entire Budapest Campus of the Mages Academy to fit inside a single building now unfolding to place them outside the perimeter the GOC had established. They'd have to get moving quickly, they were close enough for their building to still be visible on the other side of the river, surrounded by a swarm of police cars and armed gunmen. "I guess this is over," said Elias, with some regret. The Budapest Mages Academy had officially shut down during the Soviet occupation of Hungary following the end of the Second World War. Szabó had stayed until 1950s, participating in the uprising in 1956, but following its failure he had fled the country as an enemy of the state. His combat experience had made him a valued teacher for the Mages Academy's Charter Enforcers, but his fondest wish had always been to re-establish an institute of magic in the country of his birth. After the fall of Communism in the 1990s he'd seized his opportunity to do that, establishing the Budapesti Mágikus Egyetem, but now they were on the run again. This time from the GOC, another group unwilling to tolerate any occult organisation outside their control. Szabó cast a quick communication charm, then began speaking. "Is everyone out? No, not including the Coalition... Excellent. You sure we're all out? Well, get to a safe distance... Probably further than that." Elias had learned enough Ancient Greek to understand Archmagister Szabó's spells, although he personally preferred to cast in Latin. This was a more complex spell than usual, and the Ritual could not be compressed into a single word. [[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]"I Have Made, I Will Unmake. I Have Folded, I Will Unfold. I Have Contained, I Will Release. Hecate. Pandora. Nix."[[/span]] The invocation of deities and mythical figures was not technically necessary, but Szabó insisted that it gave spells a certain flare. Elias couldn't help but agree as he watched every window of their building explode outwards, as the extra space that had carefully been folded within the building suddenly expanded outwards. This was immediately followed by the rapid collapse of the entire building, the roof caving in as the brick walls crumbled. He remembered a lecture a few years ago, on the topic of spatial distortion. While it was possible to fit far more space into a volume than it would normally hold, Szabó had warned them that it came with a certain pressure that needed to be carefully contained. He'd analogised it to inflating a balloon with air, and it seemed that this was what it looked like if the balloon was burst. "And to think..." Elias muttered. "You could have done that... at any time..." "Not at any time," clarified Szabó reassuringly. "Certain wards prevented it. The same wards the Coalition broke through on their way in, actually. Saved me the trouble of dismantling them, which was, of course, exactly as planned." "Still... To destroy all we've built in the last two decades, so quickly..." Szabó turned away, his mouth smiling but his eyes cold. "It's not the building that matters. It's the people inside it." Elias hoped he was referring to the student's who'd gotten out, but feared that he may actually be referring to the GOC agents that had been trapped within. ---- It had been weeks since they fled from Budapest to the extradimensional enclave of Sjhlfels am Rhein, but Elias was filled with looming dread the entire time. They were safe for now, but after the fall of Three Portlands and the invasion of the Wanderer's Library, it had become clear that the GOC would not be respecting Sjhlfel's sovereignty for much longer. They would need an army if they hoped to defend it, and so the Magistrate, the ruling body of the Mages Academy, took the unprecedented step of summoning all of their students and graduates to this one location. Most never made it - some surrendered, others were captured or killed, and many more went into hiding. The GOC had made it clear that they would not tolerate the practice of magic by anyone not under their control, and there were members of the Mages Academy felt that the wisest course of action was to submit to the Global Occult Coalition and negotiate a peaceful resolution to the conflict. Archmagister Szabó Janos had never been one of them. As soon as he'd gotten to Sjhlfels am Rhein, he'd began reinforcing the defensive wards around the Sjhlfelser Hochschule für Angewandte Magie, the Sjhlfels University for Applied Magic, planning ways to impede a GOC advance. He laughed bitterly at any suggestion that they might be able to negotiate a peaceful settlement - he insisted that the Coalition wanted capitulation, not compromise. Their options were to surrender, or to fight. There were two ways into Sjhlfels - one way was by water, approaching from the Rhein Delta in the Netherlands, and the other way was by land, approaching through the Sihl Valley in Switzerland. Local residents were always humorously debating whether they lived in a Dutch town in the mountains, or a Swiss town by the sea. After living there for a few weeks, Elias concluded that the town was a bizarre but endearing mixture of both, the only place in the world where a living Nälkä temple looked completely at home next to traditional Swiss and Dutch architecture. Although a pleasant place to live, Sjhlfels am Rhein would not be particularly defensible once the GOC entered the extradimensional space. They'd presumably attempt to come in by land and by water, to prevent the defenders from escaping, and while their advance could be slowed by building barricades across roads and docks, Sjhlfels was no fortress. They could hold the GOC off for a while, but there would be little they could do if the GOC really wanted to take the city. Elias had been working closely with Szabó whenever he wasn't busy teaching other Mages. For now, he'd set aside the more advanced theoretical principles of magic and the Astral Energy that fuelled it, to instead focus on helping his students to master spells with combat applications. At Szabó's insistence, the curriculum primarily focused on defense, mobility and stealth rather than offense, since a mage that drew everyone's attention with a flashy fireball was unlikely to survive the battle, unless that mage was also bulletproof and invisible, and ideally behind cover in a fortified position. ---- Now that the GOC had arrived, Elias had been glad for Szabó's insistence that only those mages that could properly protect themselves be sent out to stop them. As he looked out of a window on the second floor of one of the Swiss townhouses lining the streets of southern Sjhlfel, he couldn't help but feel exposed. He was shielded by magic and wearing an invisibility cloak, not to mention concealed by the gloom and pouring rain from the thunderstorm they'd created over Sjhlfels, but the Strike Team in the street below marched towards them like knights in armor. [[[goc-supplemental-equipment\| "White Suit"]]] was such an innocuous term for the clothing they wore. It was bulky, made from layers of metal, ceramic and carbon fibre, but the internal power source made sure that the wearer's movements were unimpeded by the weights, while a cloaking device bent light around it to make it invisible to the unaided eye. Elias's eyes were aided by magic, and by gazing into the Astral Plane he could perceive the outlines of the White Suits as they climbed over the crude barricade of rubble and furniture that blocked the street below. The GOC had now made it into Sjhlfels proper, and initial reports from skirmishes on the outskirts of the town reported that the boxy assault rifles they carried, apparently a new addition to their arsenal, fired pure telekinetic force with no projectile. It ignored cover and bypassed all protective wards. The Mages would have to rely on surprise, stealth and mobility if they hoped to stop them. Elias looked out the window, raised up a hand to the dark grey sky above, and said "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Fulmena[[/span]]"! The storm overhead was a repository of power that they'd built up over the last few weeks, and calling down lightning took almost no effort at all. With a bright flash, lightning forked down to struck the GOC Strike Team as it moved through the streets. Elias immediately moved away from the window. A single lightning bolt wouldn't take out a man wearing a White Suit - while earlier models had been more vulnerable to this kind of attack, the armour was now built with a conductive outer layer and an insulating inner layer, allowing it to rapidly disperse heat and electricity. In effect, every White Suit was a Faraday cage. With that said, their sensory and concealment systems were not quite as well protected as the people inside. They would be blinded, deafened, and very visible, at least until they could reboot. From buildings all around the Strike Team, the follow up attack came as mages revealed themselves, opening or breaking windows to establish line-of-effect. "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Stamine armis[[/span]]!" They'd known the GOC was coming, and they'd known their armor was nearly impenetrable. Szabo had suggested that they simply turn that against them, and Elias had worked out how to do it. It turns out that it took surprisingly little Arcane Energy to twist the armor plating into a new shape - doing it remotely was difficult, but was still far easier than trying to break through it. Elias knew he was imagining that he could hear bones breaking in the street below. He was in the house's staircase, running down to the next floor, and the sound would be too quiet to hear over the rain and wind. He placed his left hand on a small piece of plating that had been retrieved from a White Suit in Hamberg, using it as the material component to focus his magic, then ran out from the stairwell and over to a window, to stretched out his right hand. "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Stamine armis[[/span]]!" he said, targeting the helmet of one of the men still on his feet as he curled his fingers inwards. The material, identical the the substance he was holding in his hand, suddenly warped inwards, crushing the man's head in a vice like grip. But while that would cause an almost loss of consciousness, spells targeted at the torso or limbs were less effective, and the GOC returned fire at any mages they could see. Elias dove away from the window, knowing that if one of those guns was fired at him, he'd be the one with broken bones. As he dashed down the stairs to reach the ground floor, he glanced across the hallway to see a corpse with a shattered skull lying on the floor. Someone had been too slow. It was hard to even recognise who it was, but after a moment Elias remembered Anya Berg had been downstairs. He'd insisted she stay on the ground floor, to be the one closest to the exit. At the time, he'd thought that would ensure she made it out alive. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he realised he was wasting time. He ran into the house's kitchen, sprinting towards the short range Way they'd created earlier, in the doorway to the pantry. Elias suddenly felt a sharp pain just below his left shoulder. There was no warning, no loud gunshot or flash of light, just the loud crunch of breaking bone. Safely on the other side of the Way, now in a completely different building, he looked down at his limp left arm, and screamed. He didn't stop until he ran out of breath. It seemed to take a very long time. ---- They quickly had his arm in a sling, wrapping it in bandages to hold it in place. There was no time for an X-ray, but they were pretty sure it was a clean break, rather like the kind of wound that would be inflicted by being hit by a hammer. He didn't feel lucky, but compared to some of the other people he'd seen in the field hospital, he definitely was. Not to mention the people like Anya, the ones who hadn't made it back at all. Elias could at least walk, unlike the people with broken legs or fractured skulls being carried away on stretchers. One woman had been hit in the stomach, and it seemed that all they could do for her was give enough morphine to make her death more comfortable. The defenders of Sjhlfels am Rhein had hoped that they might be able to push the Coalition forces back, but it seemed the GOC would keep advancing until they took all of Sjhlfels, no matter how many men they lost. Elias wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but it seemed that while the defence of the docks had prevented the GOC's amphibious landing, their land-based assault had broken through the defences, and any remaining defenders in the south of the city would quickly be outflanked and overrun. At this point, the defenders of Sjhlfels were in full retreat. Of course, they'd left behind enough traps and obstacles, magical and mundane, to slow the GOC's advance. Still, the sounds of war were getting louder. It was time to go. Elias was still in pain, but with his left arm immobilised it was manageable, and so he'd be expected to walk himself out. However, rather than following everyone else to the temporary Way out of Sjhlfels am Rhein that the mages had set up, he instead turned towards the campus of the Sjhlfelser Hochschule für Angewandte Magie. Once he was out of the crowd, Elias moved as fast as he could without jolting his arm too much. A medic called Marc Fontaine tried to stop him, but Elias yelled that he'd be back soon, and headed towards the structure known colloquially as the Wizard's Tower. It offered a panoramic view of the city, taller than every other building in Shjhlfels except for the Superprime Tower in the business district, and so Szabó had decided to coordinate the defence of the city from the very top. While it was an obvious target, the wards around the SHAM's campus prevented anything that had not been specifically permitted from passing through. The GOC would eventually break them, but the barrier would hold for now. Elias ran through empty university buildings until he reached the bottom of a spiral staircase. Climbing hundreds of steps would take far too long, so he stepped into a circle of runes in the middle of the stairwell. While he'd done this many times before, his stomach lurched as he fell upwards before coming to a halt at the top, where he stepped out into the landing at the top of the circular Wizard's Tower. There was a stabbing pain in his broken right arm, and Elias took a moment to gasp for breath. Szabó turned away from the window's all around the room to face him, the old man looking at his wounded shoulder with concern. "Magister Müller, it seems you're injured." Elias frowned. "That's not really what I'm worried about!" There was a bright flash and loud explosion from behind Szabó. It seems like the GOC had set up artillery to break through the wards preventing them from advancing further. Szabó scrutinised his left arm, immobilised by a sling. "You will wish you'd heard this sooner, but we managed to get hold of some of those rifles. If you create a magnetic field around you, you will be shielded from the telekinetic attack." With his magically enhanced vision, Elias could see that Szabó had already cast that spell, along with many other wards to protect himself from harm. "Fine. I'll cast that." Creating a magnetic shield was a trivial matter, but Szabó seemed insistent he did it before leaving. "There. Done. But come on! The wards won't hold much longer!" There was another explosion, even louder than the first, and the whole tower shook. Szabó shook his head. "They'll hold longer if I remain here." Elias was confused. "We need to go!" Szabó looked at him sternly, and said "You need to go." There was a definite emphasis on the first word. "I'll stay right here." "What? No! Come on!" Szabó shook his head. "I'm an old man. I only have one thing left to teach you." Elias shook his head as Szabó spoke, his words punctuated by the sound of guns. He could see the old man was preparing himself to cast something, and doubted it was to get them out of there. "Mister Müller, magic comes with many rules and restrictions, intended for your own safety, or the safety of others." Szabó smiled, and the look in his eyes was chilling. "All of them can be ignored." "What are you..." "We cannot win, so I intend to make our loss ruinous to the enemy. I suggest you start running. I would be very disappointed if you died here with me." Ignoring Elias stuttered protests, he began to chant in ancient Greek, and Elias noticed that he was now standing in the center of a ritual circle - the same circle used to create the thunderstorm that raged above them, but modified, to call the storm down into a whirlwind. Even at at glance, it was clear that there was no way to safely channel that much energy, not alone and not before the wards fell. But it was clear that Szabó did not intend to do this safely. As Szabo began to cast what was clearly intended to be his final spell, Elias turned away from him with tears in his eyes. He jumped back down the center of the Wizard's Tower, magic slowing his fall, and hit the ground running. ---- Szabó had been a mage for many decades, but had never attempted something as ill-advised as the ritual he was currently casting. If any of his students had seriously considered doing something like this, Szabó would have threatened them with expulsion for reckless endangerment. But Szabó knew exactly what he was doing. Astral Energy flowed through his body, then out into the storm above that he'd carefully created, with the help of others and over the course of several days. Now, as the GOC continued to pound against the wards around the SHAM with tank rounds and mortar shells, he began to reshape the storm, magically rewriting the attributes that governed its behaviour. There was no time to do it elegantly, so he compensated by putting as much energy as he could channel into the task. He really hoped that Elias had made it out OK. He was touched that the young man had come back for him, even if it was very foolish. The storm above Szabó began to intensify, cracking with lightning that indiscriminately struck any GOC personnel that got too close. At this point, the only GOC footsoldiers close to the SHAM were Strike Teams of battlemages, warded against lightning and ready to charge in as soon as the wards fell. From the way that their forces were arrayed, they clearly thought that the university campus was packed with mages, and that this would be the site of the Academy's final stand. Instead, there was only one old man with nothing to lose but his life. Szabó broke the wards himself as he called down the storm with a final incantation: "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Nemesis. Typhon. Zeus[[/span]]." Even with his preparations, the amount of Astral Energy required was overwhelming. As Szabo felt an unfamiliar presence in his mind, he knew that it was now all over, one way or another. ---- Elias ran as fast as possible, towards the docks and the closest Way out of Sjhlfels. The Mages had created numerous evacuation points throughout the city, extradimensional shortcuts that would lead people out of Sjhlfels to safe locations on Earth. He knew he wouldn't quite make it before Szabó finished, but he should be far enough away for his own personal protective spells to shield him. Behind him, all hell broke lose. A vortex of wind formed around the Wizards tower, and began tearing the entire building apart, ripping off roof tiles and propelling them outwards as deadly projectiles. The hurricane-force winds spread through Sjhlfels, tossing aside armored GOC troops like ragdolls. At the heart of the storm, Szabó Janos's body glowed with Astral Energy, shining so brightly that there was no way for the GOC to miss him. Realising what was happening, everything that was left standing began firing at him, a barrage of missiles, bullets, lasers and spells. The problem they faced was that Szabó had channelled far more energy than any human could safely handle, and that was the kind of thing that drew dangerous attention to a mage. His power and skill was now at the disposal of the Astral Being that had taken control of his mind, and it was a trivial matter for it to shield itself against such pitiful attacks. The onslaught did succeed in getting the Astral Being's attention, and it focused Szabó's eyes on the forces arrayed against it. Elias ran faster. The entity that had taken Szabó's body took flight as the Wizard's Tower of Sjhlfels collapsed beneath it. Cloaked in a vortex of gale-force winds, the old man's body began to erratically rise and fall within the heart of the storm, preventing the GOC from getting a clear shot. For the first time in its existence the Astral Being experienced nausea, a physical sensation that was almost overwhelming before it regained control of Szabó Janos's body. It could hear the old man's thoughts, a mixture of terror and anger that insisted he move the center of the storm away from the ruins of the SHAM and towards the GOC's front line. The Astral Being looked down as the pitiful humans that were trying to destroy it, and decided the old man had a point. He should make it very clear how insignificant they were, compared to the power it now controlled. The GOC, for the first time that day, began to retreat. Although they would prefer to phrase it as the tactical redeployment of assets. They were an Occult Coalition after all, and they did have people who could fight a hurricane and win. Most of the battlemages at the perimeter of the SHAM had been killed, wounded or forced to withdraw by the sudden intensification of the storm, but Strike Team 0021 "Major Arcana" had been kept in reserve, just in case something like this happened. Twenty-two of the GOC's finest battlemages were now authorised to take flight and head into the maelstrom, to overwhelm whatever was causing it with everything at their disposal. The Astral Being lashed out with lightning, but their defensive wards simply redirected it around them as they moved through the air to surround it. The Astral Being considered other angles of attack, but it was unlikely that any of them would work - these thaumatologists had had plenty of time to prepare, and would have warded themselves against as many types of energy as possible. While Szabó's body was also warded against harm, there was a chance one of these mages had an angle of attack Szabó hadn't anticipated. The old man then recalled something he'd been working on in secret, and the Astral Being drew back the old man's lips into a smile. Raising his hand, it spoke one word: "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Sparagmo[[/span]]!" The jagged white line that extended from his palm and towards the closest battlemage resembled lightning, but unlike lightning it lingered, frozen in the air. As the mage collided with it, he was immediately sliced in half. His comrades looked on in shock. There was something about the glowing line that looked very wrong. The Astral Being, observing how effectively this bypassed their wards, and sensing mingled satisfaction and terror in what remained of Szabó's mind, said another word: "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Thrymmatizo[[/span]]!" It accompanied this with a violent striking motion, and cracks like forked lightning extended outwards as space itself shattered. The thaumatologists scattered, but two of them were not fast enough, one loosing an arm and the other a foot, clean cuts that began bleeding profusely. Elias thought he'd already been going as fast as he could, but once he glanced over his shoulder to see the web of cracks in the fabric of reality itself, he discovered he had a bit more speed still left in him. He remembered Szabo mentioning this technique a while ago, when discussing why certain forms of magic were forbidden. Rending reality was a technique that even the most reckless and deranged magic users hesitated to use, simply because the damage it dealt to the fabric of space only got worse with time. If Szabo, or more accurately the Astral Being that had seized control of his body, kept this up, it was likely that the entire city of Sjhlfels am Rhein would collapse into the Astral Plane. As the GOC battlemages frantically struggled to take out the Astral Being, attacking with blasts of heat and light and force, and with curses of sickness, madness and death, the backlash from their spellcasting only worsened the damage to reality. The closest Way out of Sjhlfels not already overrun by the GOC was in a tall townhouse in the more Dutch northern half of Sjhlfels. With relief, Elias ran towards a waving Marc Fontaine. "Cutting it close, Elias!" Elias was touched that the medic had waited for him, but Marc clearly had no idea of the danger they were all in. Elias ran towards the door behind him, intending to drag the man with him through the Way if that was what it took to get them both out alive. Marc suddenly staggered, a series of invisible impacts shattering his ribs. Elias glanced over to his left to see the outlines of four GOC White Suits, visible to Elias's enhanced vision but invisible to everyone else. They took aim with their weapons at Elias, but had no effect. It seemed the shield Szabó had insisted he cast really did protect him. Elias turned to face them as the wind howled around him, his face illuminated by the glow from the cracks still spreading across the sky. He slipped the fragment of armor into his sling, grasped it tightly in his left hand, then reached out with his right. "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Stamine armis[[/span]]!" He curled his fingers inwards in a crushing motion. The breastplate of one of the GOC soldiers folded inwards, and the man fell to the ground as his ribs broke. The other three realised what was going on, and discarded their telekinetic weapons to draw alternative firearms. Elias realised he should have continued running, dashed through the doorway behind Marc's body, then slammed it behind him. Bullets, plasma and a laser beam tore through the space where he'd been standing only moments before. "[[span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps;"]]Claude[[/span]]!" he yelled, magically locking the door behind him. A few seconds later one of the GOC soldiers slammed into it with full force, but it remained closed. It would not hold for long. Elias frantically looked around the room until he saw a seemingly empty doorway with arcane symbols painted around it, and dashed through to emerge in a building in rural Bavaria, crowded with refugees from Sjhlfels. Elias immediately used magic to shatter the doorframe behind him, disrupting the Way to ensure he wasn't followed. ---- Elias heard later that the GOC had won, taking control of what was left of Sjhlfels am Rhein, although their casualties had been a lot higher than expected. From what he heard from someone who scried the whole thing, a casting of thirteen different curses plus the acceleration of time eventually overwhelmed the Astral Being possessing Szabó. It was probably for the best - it had needed to be put down, or it would likely have moved on from destroying Sjhlfels to tearing apart the rest of the reality. Still, Elias missed the old man, and wasn't sure what to do without him. His academic career had consisted mostly of following Szabó around, and it wasn't like he could go back to teaching. People like Elias were fortunate - while there were ways to conceal it, anyone with a non-human appearance would find it much harder to hide from the Coalition. Still, Elias kept out of the big cities. He'd heard the GOC had been fitting EVE scanners on CCTV cameras, and even if that wasn't true there was a chance they'd recognise his face. It took a week for his arm to heal - while he accelerated it with magic, there was a limit to what he could do if he didn't want to grow a tumour or start sprouting spikes of bone from his elbow. He may be a mage, but he wasn't a fleshcrafter. Once he'd recovered, he spent a few weeks travelling across Eastern Germany, using a false ID he'd had made in Sjhlfels to pass himself off as "Elliot Braun". However, with no safe way to access to his old bank account, he was quickly running out of Euros. He knew that if he settled down in a small town and never cast magic again, he might be able to avoid the Coalition for years. Probably for the rest of his life. He just wasn't sure he wanted to. He made his way to [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/bawarao-hub Outer Lichtenberg], a paranormal enclave on the outskirts of Berlin. This place was very different to Sjhlfels am Rhein. Whereas that pocket dimension had been spacious, offering views of the Alps on one side and the North Sea on the other, Outer Lichtenberg was a crowded mess of grimy industrial buildings and poorly maintained apartments. But it was safe. Both the Nazis and the Stasi had tried to tame it, and both had failed. The GOC had been no more successful, with all of their attempts to navigate the winding alleyways resulting in them heading back out into regular Lichtenberg. Something about the place resisted any effort to take control of it. Elias just wanted a place to lie low and meet up with other mages, which made Outer Lichtenberg perfect. The local residents were suspicious at first, but most were sympathetic once they heard where he'd came from, and he was able to help out with maintenance using a few basic spells. Elias had never been the type to go to parties, and wasn't really in the mood for one anyway, but after a couple of weeks of living there he found himself sipping a glass of some truly terrible home-brewed beer, as several anartists had an incomprehensible conversation about politics. Elias spent most of the evening staring at painting on the wall that looked and moved a bit like a lava lamp, but somehow the conversation came round to him. "Well, what do you think?" Fats Berg, a skinny young man who had insisted Elias come, looked over at him expectantly. "Is it worth fighting, even if you can't win?" Elias had a moment to think. "I don't know." That got him some disappointed looks. Elias shrugged apologetically. "We convinced ourselves that we could defend Sjhlfels, but when you really think about it, more of us would have gotten out if we'd ran sooner." "Well, you made it cost them, didn't you?" This came from Judas al-Zaman, a Palestinian immigrant with a mess of dark hair. They'd once tried to have a conversation about magic, but it had quickly been clear that he didn't understand even the basics of Astral Manipulation. People here seemed to be more into praxis than theory. Elias thought for a moment. Someone else spoke up, a woman with long brown hair and flecks of paint that occasionally moved across her face. Julia Reinhardt, the Painter of the piece on the wall. "Yeah, and it won't be the last time. I heard from the Critic that if the GOC comes here again, let him know. He's got people in the Protectorate that have scores to settle with the fascists." There was some murmurs of agreement with that idea, as well as a loud cry of "Fuck the Critic!", which everyone also agreed to. Elias was sceptical. He'd heard about the Security and Containment Protectorate, everyone seemed to be signing up, but he wasn't sure what they even expected to do. "So what's their plan? We keep losing until we wear down the New World Order?" Fats frowned, uncomfortable on Elias's behalf. "Sorry. I know you lost people. We should... probably talk about something else?" There was a long and awkward pause, before Elias smiled. "It's fine. We've gotten used to losing." He downed his drink, then grimaced. It really was awful beer. "But the way I see it, that actually gives us an edge. As soon as we stand up to them, and things stop going to plan, they're going to get scared. People are going to start wondering if they're really willing to die just to keep the Coalition in power." Judas looked sceptical. "You think they're just going to give up?" "No. But we can convince them they should." Elias stood up, unsteady on his feet but more confident than he'd felt for a month. He hoped that wasn't just because he'd been drinking. "You say there's a Protectorate planning to hit the Coalition back? Count me in." If the GOC came for him, he'd at least go down fighting. @@ @@ [[=]] << [[[re-kto-1466-houdini\| Re: KTO-1466-Houdini "Mages Academy"]]] \| [[[mundus-liberari\|Mundus, Liberari]]] \| [[/=]]	2023-05-05T16:59:00	[ "alternate-history", "fantasy", "global-occult-coalition", "mages-academy", "military-fiction", "mundus-liberari", "school", "tale" ]	Occult Warfare - SCP Foundation	29	[ "re-kto-1466-houdini", "mundus-liberari", "goc-supplemental-equipment", "bawarao-hub" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "mundus-liberari", "magierakademie-hub", "goc-hub-page" ]	[]	1447653337	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/occult-warfare
olivers-shop-of-curiosities	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">Byㅤ</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/bitoddinnit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8143056); return false;"><img alt="BitOddInnit" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8143056&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645414" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8143056)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/bitoddinnit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8143056); return false;">BitOddInnit</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1677862969 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">03 Mar 2023 17:02</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="meta-title"> <p>Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities</p> </div> <div class="pseudocrumbs"> <p><a href="/canon-hub">Canon Hub</a> » <a href="/nightfall-hub">NIGHTFALL Hub</a> » Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities</p> </div> <p>Ah, a visitor. Please, do come in, do come in. It's dangerous to be out on the city streets at this hour.</p> <p>Ah, where are my manners? I am Oliver, pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are?</p> <div class="textchange"> <div class="sitemember"> <p>█████████?</p> </div> </div> <p>That's an unusual one. You aren't from Ilcana, by any chance? No? Ah.</p> <p>I see you're admiring some of my wares. I suppose I should explain this place to you, seeing as you came dashing in from the rain. I sell curiosities, little trinkets with minor inexplicable traits. Nothing too major, mind you. I wouldn't want the Fundamentum knocking on my door. Just magical little items.</p> <p>Feel free to browse, everything is for sale. And don't fear to ask me about any particular item that catches your attention, I am more than willing to tell you about any of the items on display.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>An Ornate Pocket Watch</strong><br/> Ah, this one brings back memories. One of the first little things that fell into my possession, actually. I first found it in my mother's things, when we were sorting out her will. While you hold it, you will always know what the time is, at least in the hours of the eld-day. Give it a go, will you?</p> <p>Now, what time is it?</p> <p>Twelve minutes to ten?</p> <p>Spot on. Wondrous, is it not?</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>A Broken Dagger</strong><br/> Ah, watch your fingers with that, wouldn't want anyone cutting you cutting yourself now, would we?</p> <p>Oh, what it does? Well, if you'll just step back for a moment… There! As you can see, it glows. All by itself! Handy for getting around in this eternal night, and a useful deterrent against the ruffians that'll demand your money or your life. Just be careful not to get caught with this on your person, the constables will arrest you all the same.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Portrait Of A Woman With Cats</strong><br/> A fine painting, wouldn't you say? Of our very own Queen Irene Von Xeraphon, with her beloved cat Berry. Pay close attention to the eyes, now. See how they seem to follow you? Now look to the cat's tail. Look away for a moment, and now back to the tail.</p> <p>It's moved, yes?</p> <p>You can't say for sure? Look away again, then look back. I'm sure you'll notice a difference this time around.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>A Dirty Old Smoking Pipe</strong><br/> Ah, this was my grandfather's old pipe. He had a knack for finding these sorts of things, they just seemed to gravitate towards him. It'll expel some colorful smoke if you blow into it, tobacco or otherwise inside of it. Smells quite nice too, unlike those awful cigar things the governor is always puffing on.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>A Pristine Looking Glass</strong><br/> Now this one I like. Pick it up and take a peek through the glass, you'll see why.</p> <p>You see all those colors swirling about, like little clouds? Try to grab one, throw it up to the ceiling.</p> <p>Aha! You're getting quite into it, I see. It's quite therapeutic to play around with this little thing, tossing those clouds of color around. I do wonder what they are, sometimes…</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>A Blood and Bone Compass</strong><br/> Ah! This one here, a peculiar little thing, isn’t it? Not often one sees a compass carved of bone.</p> <p>See that needle there, suspended within the blood? It’s a bit opaque, you may have to squint, but it will point you to where blood has recently been shed. I think it goes by proximity, so it won’t be too helpful if you’re the one shedding the blood. But if you're unharmed? It will have its uses.</p> <p>So perhaps, when using this, you want to head in the opposite direction of where it’s pointing you! Ha!</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>A Picture of Your Family</strong><br/> Ah, this one is of particular interest to me. I haven't yet discerned what magics are at work here, but sometimes it's good to keep a little air of mystery in one's life, wouldn't you agree?</p> <p>Within its ornate mahogany frame, you should be able to see your own family, perhaps in a place you remember? Now do not fret my friend, I am no crook, it is simply a magical guise, a trick of the light.</p> <p>It should change once you look back at it again, see? Remarkable, isn't it? Personally, I've always felt an under taste of concern admiring this trinket. How does it know my family? Or yours? Does it seek to deceive us?</p> <p>Or perhaps you're a little more optimistic than I. Perhaps it wishes us happiness, a nostalgic comfort. Food for thought…</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>The Living Blunderbuss</strong><br/> An interesting piece this one is. A strange firearm that acts like a living being. I'd be careful where I aim it if I were you. It seems to fire shards of bone and bits of teeth. Bones of what you ask? I have no clue.</p> <p>It also seems to talk, the man who sold this to me said it kept whispering to him, and whenever he did decide to fire it, it screamed in agony every time.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>The Glass Butterfly</strong><br/> Oh, The Glass Butterfly! Such a beautiful and delicate thing… I must say, kind shopper, this would make an <em>amazing</em> addition to your home!</p> <p>How did acquire such a beauty, you ask?</p> <p>Well, I can't exactly remember when I was initially sold this item, but what I do remember is <em>who</em> sold it to me. An elderly lady, it was. 'Told me it was the family heirloom. When I inquired as to why she would want to sell me something so significant and priceless as a family heirloom, she stated that it would occasionally move from one spot to another when no one was around. Intriguing enough, she also ejected how she once observed it <em>"levitating"</em> upon entering the room she had kept in.</p> <p>I do have to admit, though, kind shopper. I myself would occasionally notice it having moved from one spot to another, but levitating? Can't say that's on the list of oddities I've seen from this beauty. 'Not out of the question, though.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>The Timekeeper's Relic</strong><br/> Ahh, the classic!</p> <p>I must say you have a sharp vision for valuable objects, and there's nothing more valuable than time itself.</p> <p>Unlike ordinary hourglasses, this one defies the laws of time. Its sands flow not just downward but also sideways, creating intricate patterns that mesmerize the observer.</p> <p>Turn it upside down, and time itself seems to pause momentarily, as if waiting for a decision to be made.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Ah, leaving so soon? What a shame, you make for pleasant company. Do feel free to return anytime, my doors are always open.</p> <p>Ta-ta, for now.</p> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Perhaps you have a curio of your own you wish to part ways with?</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Hehe, very well</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>This is a NIGHTFALLified version of the <a href="/log-of-anomalous-items">Log Of Anomalous Items</a>, and should be treated similarly. Everything here is a small scale anomalous object in a shop in a Victorian-era city, not something that'd be deserving of an SCP file.</p> <p>If you want to add your own little oddity to the list, create a new blockquote and put your title in bold. Add a few little lines of dialogue from Oliver describing the object's odd properties, and save the edit. This list will be regularly pruned by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/bitoddinnit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8143056); return false;"><img alt="BitOddInnit" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8143056&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043777" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8143056)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/bitoddinnit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8143056); return false;">BitOddInnit</a></span> to ensure content is fitting of the setting.</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/olivers-shop-of-curiosities">Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities</a>" by BitOddInnit, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/olivers-shop-of-curiosities">https://scpwiki.com/olivers-shop-of-curiosities</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a> witching-hour=a]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="meta-title"]] Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities [[/div]] [[div class="pseudocrumbs"]] [[[Canon Hub]]] >> [[[NIGHTFALL Hub]]] >> Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities [[/div]] Ah, a visitor. Please, do come in, do come in. It's dangerous to be out on the city streets at this hour. Ah, where are my manners? I am Oliver, pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:listusers-1">:scp-wiki:component:listusers-1</a> users="."]] %%title%%? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:listusers-2">:scp-wiki:component:listusers-2</a>]] █████████? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:listusers-3">:scp-wiki:component:listusers-3</a>]] That's an unusual one. You aren't from Ilcana, by any chance? No? Ah. I see you're admiring some of my wares. I suppose I should explain this place to you, seeing as you came dashing in from the rain. I sell curiosities, little trinkets with minor inexplicable traits. Nothing too major, mind you. I wouldn't want the Fundamentum knocking on my door. Just magical little items. Feel free to browse, everything is for sale. And don't fear to ask me about any particular item that catches your attention, I am more than willing to tell you about any of the items on display. ----- [[div class="blockquote"]] An Ornate Pocket Watch Ah, this one brings back memories. One of the first little things that fell into my possession, actually. I first found it in my mother's things, when we were sorting out her will. While you hold it, you will always know what the time is, at least in the hours of the eld-day. Give it a go, will you? Now, what time is it? Twelve minutes to ten? Spot on. Wondrous, is it not? [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] A Broken Dagger Ah, watch your fingers with that, wouldn't want anyone cutting you cutting yourself now, would we? Oh, what it does? Well, if you'll just step back for a moment... There! As you can see, it glows. All by itself! Handy for getting around in this eternal night, and a useful deterrent against the ruffians that'll demand your money or your life. Just be careful not to get caught with this on your person, the constables will arrest you all the same. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Portrait Of A Woman With Cats A fine painting, wouldn't you say? Of our very own Queen Irene Von Xeraphon, with her beloved cat Berry. Pay close attention to the eyes, now. See how they seem to follow you? Now look to the cat's tail. Look away for a moment, and now back to the tail. It's moved, yes? You can't say for sure? Look away again, then look back. I'm sure you'll notice a difference this time around. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] A Dirty Old Smoking Pipe Ah, this was my grandfather's old pipe. He had a knack for finding these sorts of things, they just seemed to gravitate towards him. It'll expel some colorful smoke if you blow into it, tobacco or otherwise inside of it. Smells quite nice too, unlike those awful cigar things the governor is always puffing on. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] A Pristine Looking Glass Now this one I like. Pick it up and take a peek through the glass, you'll see why. You see all those colors swirling about, like little clouds? Try to grab one, throw it up to the ceiling. Aha! You're getting quite into it, I see. It's quite therapeutic to play around with this little thing, tossing those clouds of color around. I do wonder what they are, sometimes... [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] A Blood and Bone Compass Ah! This one here, a peculiar little thing, isn’t it? Not often one sees a compass carved of bone. See that needle there, suspended within the blood? It’s a bit opaque, you may have to squint, but it will point you to where blood has recently been shed. I think it goes by proximity, so it won’t be too helpful if you’re the one shedding the blood. But if you're unharmed? It will have its uses. So perhaps, when using this, you want to head in the opposite direction of where it’s pointing you! Ha! [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] A Picture of Your Family Ah, this one is of particular interest to me. I haven't yet discerned what magics are at work here, but sometimes it's good to keep a little air of mystery in one's life, wouldn't you agree? Within its ornate mahogany frame, you should be able to see your own family, perhaps in a place you remember? Now do not fret my friend, I am no crook, it is simply a magical guise, a trick of the light. It should change once you look back at it again, see? Remarkable, isn't it? Personally, I've always felt an under taste of concern admiring this trinket. How does it know my family? Or yours? Does it seek to deceive us? Or perhaps you're a little more optimistic than I. Perhaps it wishes us happiness, a nostalgic comfort. Food for thought…[[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] The Living Blunderbuss An interesting piece this one is. A strange firearm that acts like a living being. I'd be careful where I aim it if I were you. It seems to fire shards of bone and bits of teeth. Bones of what you ask? I have no clue. It also seems to talk, the man who sold this to me said it kept whispering to him, and whenever he did decide to fire it, it screamed in agony every time. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] The Glass Butterfly Oh, The Glass Butterfly! Such a beautiful and delicate thing... I must say, kind shopper, this would make an //amazing// addition to your home! How did acquire such a beauty, you ask? Well, I can't exactly remember when I was initially sold this item, but what I do remember is //who// sold it to me. An elderly lady, it was. 'Told me it was the family heirloom. When I inquired as to why she would want to sell me something so significant and priceless as a family heirloom, she stated that it would occasionally move from one spot to another when no one was around. Intriguing enough, she also ejected how she once observed it //"levitating"// upon entering the room she had kept in. I do have to admit, though, kind shopper. I myself would occasionally notice it having moved from one spot to another, but levitating? Can't say that's on the list of oddities I've seen from this beauty. 'Not out of the question, though. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] The Timekeeper's Relic Ahh, the classic! I must say you have a sharp vision for valuable objects, and there's nothing more valuable than time itself. Unlike ordinary hourglasses, this one defies the laws of time. Its sands flow not just downward but also sideways, creating intricate patterns that mesmerize the observer. Turn it upside down, and time itself seems to pause momentarily, as if waiting for a decision to be made. [[/div]] ----- Ah, leaving so soon? What a shame, you make for pleasant company. Do feel free to return anytime, my doors are always open. Ta-ta, for now. ----- [[collapsible show="Perhaps you have a curio of your own you wish to part ways with?" hide="Hehe, very well"]] This is a NIGHTFALLified version of the [[[Log Of Anomalous Items]]], and should be treated similarly. Everything here is a small scale anomalous object in a shop in a Victorian-era city, not something that'd be deserving of an SCP file. If you want to add your own little oddity to the list, create a new blockquote and put your title in bold. Add a few little lines of dialogue from Oliver describing the object's odd properties, and save the edit. This list will be regularly pruned by [[*user BitOddInnit]] to ensure content is fitting of the setting. [[/collapsible]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-03T17:02:00	[ "_licensebox", "collaboration", "first-person", "nightfall", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	Oliver's Shop Of Curiosities - SCP Foundation	26	[ "canon-hub", "nightfall-hub", "log-of-anomalous-items", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "nightfall-hub" ]	[]	1446559595	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/olivers-shop-of-curiosities
olympus-has-fallen-in-love	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aextra-black-highlighter-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="modal-wrapper"> <li class="unfolded"> <div id="u-adult-warning"> <div id="u-adult-header"> <p>ADULT CONTENT</p> </div> <br/> This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. <div class="content-descriptor"><span style="display: syntax error near `{$gore} ==`">Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts</span><br/> <span style="display: block">Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$sexually`">Explicit depiction of sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$sexual-a`">Features non-consensual sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$child-ab`">Depiction of severe mistreatment of children</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$self-har`">Depiction of self-harm</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$suicide}`">Depiction of suicide</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$torture}`">Depiction of torture</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$custom} `">{$custom-content}</span></div> <p>If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.</p> <div class="foldable-list-container choice"><a href="javascript:;">Continue</a></div> <div class="choice"><a href="/">Back to Front Page</a></div> </div> <br/></li> </ul> <p><br/></p> <p>The doors to the club swung open against the walls with a loud bang, barely audible over the intense rave music filling the neon lit room. <a href="/scp-7666">Agent Calendar</a> straightened her jacket and took care not to step on the crumpled bouncer on the floor as she entered the club. Bright colours flashed over the Lust demons littering the the dance floor, dancing in piles of hedonistic pleasure as was to be expected. Or, at the very least what <em>looked</em> like dancing at first glance. Typically people tend not to dance horizontally.</p> <p>Whatever. She came here to do a job and that's what she intended to do. Normally she'd be protecting Director House's ass from some outside threat or, more expectedly, himself. But she was the only one qualified to search among the dregs of Undervegas and follow the trail of the target. Though, she had to bust a few heads along her way of course. Well, 'had to' might be a bit misleading but heads were definitely busted and she got the leads she needed.</p> <p>Calendar stepped into the club and peered through the fog of body heat and aerosolised sweat, scanning the crowd for her mark. Most were naked, a lot were probably not far off, and some likely would've been better off if they were. Stains don't come out easy after a night in one of these clubs. A cacophony of all sorts of demons were enjoying every moment of the deep haze of pleasure that came with such an establishment, but what she was after was something a bit different.</p> <p>Calendar had begun shoving through the crowd of various fuckubi before she spotted what she had been looking for all night. Sitting at the bar was a rather peculiar sight; a human dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. It was like he had been plucked right out of the middle of Vegas and hadn't even noticed the biblical lack of decency that was now surrounding him. But of course to Calendar, that was exactly what she was looking for. She had found her man.</p> <p>She pushed the remainder of the crowd aside to meet him at the bar. Standing behind the man she laid a firm grip on his shoulder and glared down at him with a fiery expression.</p> <p>"You," she shouted over the music with a smirk on her face, "You're coming with me."</p> <p>The man didn't react immediately. His shoulders slumped beside him and he let out a light sigh. After a few moments spent with Calendar’s fingers on his collar, he took a shot from a pile sitting in front of him, and looked over his shoulder. His eyes were a shining and florescent violet, glowing so brightly it made the neon lights in the club seem dull by comparison. Calendar was slightly taken aback by the sight and tightened her grip, ready for him to make a run for it or, even better, put up a fight. Either way, she was sure he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7454">Isaac</a> stared up at the demoness, wondering what he had done to this particularly sinewy and slightly sadistic looking individual that would warrant such an aggressive approach. Had he insulted her? Stole from her? Stolen her boyfriend? Her dad? Both? Isaac searched his admittedly fuzzy memory for any familiar recollections involving this towering mass of red muscle he found himself on the bad side of. But, search as he might, nothing came to mind.</p> <p>Isaac looked back down to the bar in front of him and over to the scantily clad demon pouring drinks.</p> <p>"Sorry love, but if I broke your heart or whatever just know that I am truly, deeply sorry," he glanced over his shoulder again and smiled, "Oh, and I'm not going anywhere."</p> <p>Isaac raised a hand to gesture the bartender incubus over to him.</p> <p>Calendar's grip loosened as she moved around Isaac to lean on the bar next to him. She glared down at him with an even bigger smile than before.</p> <p>"As much as I'd like to have a bit of fun before heading back, I am on the clock and I'm technically banned from this club." Calendar pressed lightly into the bar she was leaning on, causing the stone surface to crack and fracture, "Ya know, property damage and such."</p> <p>Isaac scoffed as the bartender poured a large glass filled with a suspiciously viscous looking fluid.</p> <p>"Oh really? Same."</p> <p>Isaac grabbed the glass and broke eye contact with Calendar briefly to examine it. His eyes glanced over to the grinning bartender, and back to the drink. Isaac's eyes narrowed at the rather suggestive fluid as he tentatively took a swig. Not bad, a bit dubious, but at least some part of it was alcoholic.</p> <p>Calendar straightened up and began cracking her knuckles.</p> <p>"Last chance. You should know, I really don't mind taking you in by fo-"</p> <p>Calendar was cut off by the guttural sound of demon clearing his throat, or perhaps someone attempting to start up a weedwhacker, just as several large demonic bouncers surrounded them both. One placed a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder mid drink, as another came around to face them both.</p> <p>"Well, well. If it isn't the two biggest troublemakers on this side of the district," the fantastically muscled and pink skinned demon proclaimed, "The living truck with anger issues and the world's most cream-filled twinkie."</p> <p>Isaac, who had not stopped drinking the suspicious liquid, choked on his drink and coughed spilling it over himself and soaking his clothes.</p> <p>"Hey!" said the now drenched and stained Isaac, "I resent that sentiment!"</p> <p>The muscular demon boss adjusted his booty shorts and continued.</p> <p>"Why don't you two just scamper on outta here like the good little cockroaches you are, and me and the boys won't have to lay you two out, yeah?"</p> <p>Calendar shuddered and her fists clenched. Finally, nothing like reversing a few limbs to make a long night worth the trouble. The smile on her face returned as she eyed the gang of eight heavily bulked up demons. This was gonna be so much fun.</p> <p>Before Calendar could wipe that cocky smirk off the pink wonder that had so unwisely picked a fight with her, Isaac stood up, wiped the liquid off his hoodie, and walked over to the flexing mass of living daddy issues. He stood there for just a moment, smiled up at the monster towering above him, and then delivered a truly ungodly amount of force directly into the demon's privates.</p> <p>With a loud pop, time seemed to slow as the rosy tower was reduced to a crumpled heap in front of them both. There was a long pause as all the demons in the club were now eyeing the duo standing over the short shorts wearing deflated party balloon that was once recognisable as a lust demon bouncer. Isaac looked over to Calendar and smiled.</p> <p>"Oops."</p> <p>In a flash, the remaining muscular demon henchmen rushed the duo as the club erupted into chaos. Calendar took the first move, grabbing a massive 13 foot tall monstrosity that had charged her by the arm and dealing a bone shattering blow directly to his ribcage. The hit sent the beast flying across the club into a far wall, causing the whole building to shake violently as two smaller creatures wearing leather tuxedos leapt into the air above her. Calendar spun around and pulled both her arms back, ready to perform some impromptu interior decorating to the ceiling.</p> <p>Isaac threw the glass in his hand across the room at the large red-ish orc thing that had pushed him down into the barstool earlier. The reflexes of the ogre were shockingly quick, catching the glass just before it hit his head and holding it while a smile stretched across his pug like face. As if in response to his smugness, the glass suddenly exploded into a fiery gaseous cloud of extremely fragrant perfume, sending him crashing across the bar and leaving him smelling like a dying rosebed. Isaac laughed and turned just in time to take a direct hit to the face by a chain-clad, taurus-horned demon, sending him flying over the bar into the rows of suggestively labelled liquor. He landed with a crash and let out a pained groan.</p> <p>"Ugh…" grumbled Isaac as he flipped onto his back and let out a sigh, "Fuckin'… Minotaur lookin' ass…"</p> <p>Calendar stood with both her arms extended, fists letting off smoke as the two demon shaped holes in the ceiling dropped debris into the nightclub. Almost on instinct, she spun around with her leg extended and collided it with the side of bouncer's head who had tried to take her by surprise. The demon flew across the room and into the waiting downwards fist of Calendar, who had covered the distance in a split second, parting the demonic orgy sea like the world's worst depiction of Moses. The demon disappeared into the earth below, leaving behind no trace beyond a gaping hole and a pair of gently floating stockings.</p> <p>She turned to look at a chiselled dominatrix style demon bouncer holding a whip. The demon smiled at her and Calendar, of course, smiled back, before launching off the ground in the bouncer's direction.</p> <p>Isaac shuffled across the ground with his back against the bar, picking up a bottle of vodka along the way. He looked over at the terrified incubus bartender hiding out of harms way. Isaac gave the demon a wink, before taking a large swig from the bottle and leaping up over the counter. Isaac tossed the bottle at the minotaur demon which shattered across its face. As it stumbled, Isaac clicked his fingers together, producing a small flame which he brought to his mouth, and then released a torrent of intense fire at the bull man.</p> <p>A whip crackled and snapped around the room leaving gashes across the floor and walls surrounding the two demonesses. Calendar launched several furious punches towards the scantily clad succubus, but she dodged each of them with the unrelenting grace of a cockroach against a can of bug spray. The succubus bent over backwards before flipping over Calendar and wrapping the whip around her arm, pulling it taut to bring Calendar to attention.</p> <p>"Easy now big girl," the succubus taunted "Wouldn't wanna leave some marks on that pretty face would we?"</p> <p>"Yours or mine?" Calendar retorted before grabbing and yanking the whip with such force, the succubus flew over to her position. The succubus barely had time to react before being met with the titanium clothesline that was Calendar's arm. With a loud 'Grk!' the succubus was now out of action.</p> <p>The bull man, now engulfed in flames, ran towards a nearby fountain overflowing with lubricant looking to douse the fire. Isaac, in response, let out a shrill whistle. The apparently and understandably infinite amount of lubricant within the fountain sprang to life in the form of several large tentacles that grabbed the bull by the legs. The tentacles swung the bull around the room before firing him off like a bowling ball into a distant pile of demons, the slickness of the minotaur's body ensuring a clean strike.</p> <p>"Tell Daedalus he can keep the fuckin' bond!" Isaac shouted at the unconscious bovine demon, "Now, who else wants some?!"</p> <p>As if to answer the unwise questioning of the fallen deity, a truly gargantuan beast sidled up beside Isaac and placed a massive hand on his shoulder. Isaac turned to look up to the red and fanged demon, bulging with muscle, just as the regret could truly set in.</p> <p>"Ah," Isaac muttered to himself, "Fuck."</p> <p>Calendar finished untangling herself from the surprisingly sturdy whip just as Isaac flew past her head at a horrific speed, burying him in a nearby wall. Calendar turned to look over the demonic goliath that now stood in front of her, as he brought his fist to meet Calendar's crossed arms. Despite the attack not causing any damage, the lighter Calendar was sent flying into her own crater right beside Isaac.</p> <p>"You know," started Calendar while climbing out of the crater, "I really think I'm starting to love this job!"</p> <p>Calendar looked over to the battered and bruised Isaac.</p> <p>"I thought I'd have to just drag you back like a spoiled kid, but this is way better don't you think?"</p> <p>Isaac painfully lifted himself out of his personal impression in the wall and glared over at Calendar.</p> <p>"Oh yeah, I'm having the best time over here," Isaac responded, falling to the ground before lifting himself up, "Are you sure you're not related to my ex by chance?"</p> <p>"No idea what you mean!" Calendar shouted down to Isaac before turning her attention back to what was one nose job away from being a literal elephant in the room, "But hey, this guy looks like the last man standing. So you ready to wrap this up?"</p> <p>Isaac cracked his neck and stood up straight.</p> <p>"Yeah, fine. I really need a shower after this."</p> <p>The demonic overlord laughed in a deep bellowing voice at the two puny rats standing in front of him. With a flex of his muscles he stood to full height, massive horns scraping the ceiling. His fanged mouth, like that of an angler fish, was grinning widely and dripping with saliva. He began cracking his knuckles in preparation for the absolute devilish beating he was about to dish out.</p> <p>"First one's mine!" Calendar belted out before leaping off her position.</p> <p>In a flash, Calendar closed the distance between the two and landed a devastating kick to the side of the massive demon's arm, causing him to stumble. But before she could draw her leg back for another blow, the demon then grabbed Calendar by the leg, and swung her around before throwing her across the room into the nearby bar where she landed on a liquor soaked bed of broken bottles and shot glasses.</p> <p>Isaac leapt into action following Calendar's lead, sprinting towards the monster, grabbing a broken chair leg on the way. Isaac threw the chair leg towards the beast as it transformed into a swarm of rat sized wasps that began stinging at the demon's face. The demon staggered while swatting at the insects as Isaac slid under his legs and grabbed the whip left behind by the succubus who had undergone rapid unscheduled tracheotomy a few moments earlier. The whip transformed into a long vicious looking vine in Isaac's hand, which he cracked across the demon's calf and swung around the room. Everywhere it landed, various flowers, ferns, and even a number of trees began to sprout and grow rapidly, adding to the club's no doubt skyrocketing insurance claim.</p> <p>The demon snapped his attention to the up-and-coming gardener that had somehow caused lilies to sprout from his ankle, and kicked his massive hooved leg backwards. The iron like foot collided with Isaac's gut, sending him rolling across the slick floor and into a support pillar wrapped up in roots, winding him. The tree had cracked under the impact and sap poured from the pillar into Isaac's hair, raising the increasingly sticky deity's shower time.</p> <p>Calendar grabbed the shattered remains of the poor heavily beaten bar, and threw it at the monster's head. The counter knocked the creature backwards into a wall, with his horn impaling a large disco ball. Lights flickered off the beast as it moved rapidly towards the bar once more, just as Calendar launched forwards landing furious punch after punch into his gut and chest. The beast raised an arm to smash down on Calendar, but large, animate vines whipped out from behind him and wrapped themselves around his arm and neck, causing large flowers and roots to grow and from his skin and bark to encase him.</p> <p>The demon looked back at the staggering Isaac, vine in hand, which had now split and come to life tangling the monstrosity in thorny, fibrous appendages. With a mighty pull, Isaac managed to yank the beast away from Calendar, who then sent a thunderous kick into the massive leg in front of her, shattering the bark and bringing the behemoth back down to his knees.</p> <p>Isaac used the vines to swing up onto the horns of the creature and wrap his arms around one. He heaved and strained before a loud snap echoed across the room and the massive horn fell to the ground with an enormous thud. The demon screamed and reached for Isaac, but Calendar sent another blow directly into the monster's elbow, causing his arm to go limp. Calendar then grabbed the creature's leg, and with a loud yell, swung him around the room and sent him flying back into what at one time might've been considered a bar. Isaac fell off the demon and landed with a stumble next to Calendar, still holding the whip.</p> <p>"Not bad for a scrawny little sprite." said Calendar.</p> <p>"Not bad for… whatever the hell you're supposed to be." Isaac replied.</p> <p>The two glanced at each other and smiled, just as the behemoth began to rise to his feet again. He was glowing with a red hot aura that gave away his pure, unbridled rage. He let out a truly gargantuan howl that shook the foundations of the building before bursting into flames and charging at the duo once more.</p> <p>"Together?" the two said in unison, before snapping their attention to the charging beast.</p> <p>Calendar grabbed Isaac and threw him towards the mountain bearing down on them. The vine in his hands spun and whipped out at the beast, wrapping around it's neck. Calendar began sprinting at such a pace that the floor cracked under her footfalls, before she smashed into the monster's ribs with a thunderous crack. Isaac swung around off the beast's neck and back around to Calendar, who grabbed the vine and yanked it as hard as she could, causing the monster to fly through the air from the force. Isaac slid under the beasts airborne mass and let out a punch of his own into it's gut, causing a dazzling flash of light as the creature's body rippled like water before flipping over them both.</p> <p>The creature came crashing down to Earth, likely causing what would be described as a hellquake by denizens for weeks to come. The beast, now completely and thoroughly dazed by the beating, only had a brief moment of clarity to open his eyes just in time witness a red fist bury his head under the flooring of the club. And with a final whimper, the goliath beast had been gloriously felled.</p> <p>Calendar rose from the monster's body to look at Isaac, sitting on the floor. They both looked around the room at the devastation they caused and began laughing.</p> <p>"Man… all I wanted was a drink," Isaac scoffed while looking at the smashed bottles across the floor.</p> <p>"And all I wanted was a good fight," Calendar retorted.</p> <p>"And all I wanted," an unknown voice echoed across the destroyed club, "Was to have one night where I didn't have to clean up after the likes of you two."</p> <p>A fancily dressed and androgynous looking demon stepped out from an adjacent room and into the light. Their skin was a light pink and they sported two large curled horns atop their head. Surrounding them was a large horde of very serious looking demonic bouncers, complete with suits and sunglasses. In Hell. At night.</p> <p>"Look at the absolute mess you two have caused here. Normally, I can deal with one of you in my club but the two of you together? Seriously, what the actual fuck did I do to deserve such an ungodly pairing? It's unfit for even us lust demons!" the well carried demon chided.</p> <p>"Byleth!" Isaac shouted with open arms, "Good to see you again buddy!"</p> <p>"You." Byleth snapped back, "Your uncle should've kept you far away from here, whore."</p> <p>"Whore?" Isaac looked over to Calendar, "They call <em>me</em> a whore?"</p> <p>Calendar folded her arms.</p> <p>"Your clubs were always so boring. Where's the fun? The action?"</p> <p>Byleth pointed over to the mass of bruised and groaning demons on the dance floor.</p> <p>"That <em>was</em> the action. You effectively reduced the action to a sopping puddle!" Byleth paused, "Well… an unintended kind of puddle at least."</p> <p>"It’s not my fault they couldn't handle a bit of roughhousing." Calendar pouted.</p> <p>"Roughhousing?!" Byleth shouted in an echoing voice, causing the lights to dim as their eyes glowed, "You call this fucking roughhousing?! This is like calling the fucking apocalypse a 'warm Texan Summer'!"</p> <p>The lights came back as Byleth brought their hand to their face, rubbed their temple, and sighed.</p> <p>"Can you two just, like, get the fuck out. I have a shit ton of cleaning to do now and I can't be fucked dealing with you two on top of this tonight."</p> <p>"Sounds like a plan!" Isaac said while jumping to his feet, another bottle in hand. "Lets blow this joint! I've had enough ‘revelry’ for one night."</p> <p>Isaac began walking to the exit as Calendar turned to follow.</p> <p>"Oh and by the way," Byleth shouted, "All of this will be added to your tab. That goes for both of you!"</p> <p>Isaac and Calendar ignored Byleth as they stumbled out the front door into the cold night air. The strip was illuminated by a rainbow of neon lights from all the signs advertising strip clubs, brothels, pretty much every kind of underground form of debauchery you can imagine.</p> <p>Isaac took in a deep breath then turned to Calendar with his arms outstretched.</p> <p>"So!" he shouted "Who and what was so important they sent a howitzer with legs to come get me?"</p> <p>Calendar folded her arms and glared down at the tiny trickster.</p> <p>"The Foundation. Something about you not staying put, House looked more annoyed than usual."</p> <p>Isaac's smirk faded and his arms fell.</p> <p>"Foundation huh?" Isaac looked down to the ground. "Is… Riley upset with me?"</p> <p>"Don't know who that is."</p> <p>"Right…"</p> <p>Isaac and Calendar stood there for a moment before Isaac's eyes rose to meet Calendar's.</p> <p>"Listen, you don't seem like you're in a hurry any more than I am."</p> <p>Isaac's smile returned as he moved his hands behind him and cocked his head to the side</p> <p>"How about we find a place to stay for the night before you, er, 'capture' me?"</p> <p>Calendar looked around at the strip surrounding her. She was always fond of the night in Undervegas, and being back home felt somewhat 'right'. She was sure that House wouldn't try something like fight a tank with his bare hands before she got back. After all, there's no way he wouldn't invite <em>her</em> along if he did, right?</p> <p>Calendar let out a sigh and looked down at Isaac again, whose violet eyes glowed almost as bright as the neon lights surrounding them.</p> <p>"Alright," Calendar said to the sprite of a man, "But I get to pick the hotel."</p> <p>Isaac perked up at this and shot his hands into the air.</p> <p>"Perfect!" he shouted before spinning around, "Onwards then! To silken sheets and hot water, 'cause good god I need a shower."</p> <p>Calendar scoffed as Isaac started to march off into the night. As she followed him down the street towards the hotel she pointed them towards, Calendar found herself wondering who exactly this guy was. The tricks he used in that fight, the cheerful vibe, hell even the fact he could take a punch or fifty made Calendar think there was so much more to this strange little man than she initially thought.</p> <p>Calendar's mind wandered as they made their way into the night, absentmindedly listening to Isaac humming a strangely entrancing tune.</p> <hr/> <p>"Don't break anything this time" the sagging and crotchety hotel employee behind the counter warned the two as she handed them their key with long, speckled pink claws.</p> <p>"I won't." said Isaac and Calendar concurrently.</p> <p>The demonic secretary attempted to hide her concern as she went back to reading a dirty magazine on proper horn maintenance.</p> <p>Isaac and Calendar marched through the brightly decorated halls of the hotel to their room, and burst through the door. Compared to the aesthetic of the rest of the hotel, the room had an uncharacteristically luxurious feel to it, with a large bed covered in silk fabrics, a large and impressive shower, and a number of rather suggestive sculptures all illuminated by the neon glow spilling in from the window.</p> <p>Come to think of it, it seemed like the interior decorators had never designed anything beyond love hotels. But hey, that’s what you get staying in the Lust district.</p> <p>"Yes!" Isaac shouted with absolute delight. "A shower! Finally!"</p> <p>Calendar had not so much as closed the door behind them before Isaac had removed his hoodie and shirt, and kicked off his shoes.</p> <p>"Hope you don't mind me taking one first?" Isaac said while straightening his back and placing a hand on his neck.</p> <p>"Knock yourself out," Calendar scoffed, "Don't actually though, I'm not supposed to be babysitting you. I already do that for House as my day job."</p> <p>Isaac snickered in response.</p> <p>"Well, if you were worried about that," Isaac's eye gleamed over his shoulder with a unusually piercing look, "You could always join me."</p> <p>Calendar blinked. For some reason that look had her finding trouble to find the words to respond. But before she could stammer out a retort, Isaac turned back to the shower and laughed.</p> <p>"Anyway, time to wash all the leftover demon out of my hair. Place was nasty even by my standards."</p> <p>Isaac then moved into the shower and out of sight.</p> <p>Calendar watched as she heard the water turn on and steam began billowing out of the cracked open door. Suddenly she felt a surge of rage. Did this little thing really just make her stutter? Stop her responding with a mere look? Was it a challenge? A threat? No! No, she wouldn't lose something so stupid to someone so puny! Calendar clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.</p> <p>Alright. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he'll get. She ripped off her jacket and stormed into the shower ready to show this little vixen who's boss.</p> <p>Steam filled the air with an almost ethereal presence as Calendar entered and peered through the room, water coalescing on her bare skin and dripping over her chiselled physique. She saw Isaac standing under the torrent of the shower, his sleek and exposed pixie-like build accentuated by the flowing waterfall, the scene almost looking as if he thought a photographer was nearby. If Calendar didn't know better, she would've sworn this boy was a high ranking incubus in disguise.</p> <p>Isaac opened his eyes and glanced over to meet Calendar's who was standing there, steam rising from her body in rage, or perhaps some other passionate emotion. Isaac smiled, to which Calendar responded by storming up to the nude siren until she was standing inches from and above him, glaring down at his smirking face ready to tear him several new ones.</p> <p>Isaac looked up at the monstrous and glowing red demoness, now covered in flowing water herself. It trickled down over her chest and onto her perfectly toned abs, and eventually over the clenched fists hanging by her sides. Isaac pulled his eyes back up to Calendar's just as she pulled back her arm into a locked position ready to fire a missile like punch in the young man's direction.</p> <p>With a flex of her heavily muscled arm, the shot fired towards Isaac and barely missed his head. Her fist buried itself into the wall causing the tiles to crack and crater under the immense might as the building shook around them. Isaac did not break eye contact, nor stop smiling. Instead he simply tilted his head to the side to rest on Calendar's arm.</p> <p>Calendar stood for a moment, taking in the otherworldly sight in front of her. This strange and fae-like man wasn't scared of her at all. Not only that, but he wasn't afraid to fight or even take a hit. And for some ungodly reason this made Calendar's heart swell up into her chest, like a boiling rage that would level the city if she let it out. But she knew one last thing that would make this wannabe challenger crumple. Her trump card.</p> <p>Calendar reached out with her free hand and grabbed the side of Isaac's head. She pulled her fist from the destroyed wall behind him and grabbed Isaac around the waist, pulling him close to her and pressing him against her body. She scoffed once looking at the now doe eyed Isaac, before planting a kiss directly on his lips.</p> <p>There. That'll show him.</p> <p>The steam billowed and twisted in unnatural shapes as water droplets began to hang in the air around them and grow like miniature planetoids. The room lit up with bright pink and blue flickering lights as the various structures around them bent and shattered with their movements around the room. One listening in to this cacophony of lights and destruction might think a monstrous fight had broken out, if it wasn't for the echoing cries of pleasure shaking the foundations of the building alongside them.</p> <p>Oh well. In the end, what's some more property damage added to the list?</p> <hr/> <p>Calendar woke up the next morning feeling unusually relaxed. Normally for this level of calm she would have to visit the gluttony district's spas, or disassemble a small army with extreme prejudice. She took in a deep breath and looked around slowly at her surroundings. The silken sheets of the bed she was laying in were wrapped around her waist. The room around her lied in absolute ruin with <em>no</em> piece of furniture left unscathed. A gentle wind blew through the room as the curtains gave way to faint flickers of red light. And in her arms, his head gently laying against her bare chest, was Isaac, fast asleep and none the worse for wear.</p> <p>She stared at the impish boy with a strange feeling in her chest. She took a deep breath in and moved her arm up off his hip to his shoulder, attempting not to wake him.</p> <p>Isaac began stirring and let out a whimper as he woke up from a deep sleep. His shining eyes opened slightly before dimming against the red light. He looked up at Calendar who had him in a tight but soft grip, a grip not he nor Calendar thought she was at all capable of.</p> <p>Isaac stretched and turned to lay on his back, looking up at the demoness huddling him in her arms. He smiled and reached a hand up to hold hers, now laying gently on his chest.</p> <p>"G'morning." Isaac managed to whimper out from a hoarse throat.</p> <p>"Morning." Calendar growled, clearly and with authority.</p> <p>Isaac giggled before speaking again.</p> <p>"I suppose you'll be taking me back to the Foundation now, eh?"</p> <p>Calendar waited a moment before responding.</p> <p>"Yeah, that's the plan. My way back comes through in a few hours and the next one won't be for a few days."</p> <p>Isaac let out a light sigh and turned to gaze out the window at the red sky.</p> <p>"But, you know," Calendar continued, "I might be too slow to catch it."</p> <p>Isaac turned back at the now smiling Calendar.</p> <p>"Shame," he scoffed, "I guess both Riley and House will have to wait, huh?"</p> <p>Calendar laughed before wrapping her arm around Isaac's waist and onto his stomach.</p> <p>"I guess so." she jeered.</p> <p>Isaac spun around in Calendar's arms onto his belly, with Calendar's hand now resting gently on his lower back.</p> <p>"My name is Isaac, by the way," he said resting his head back on Calendar's chest. “It occurred to me I never actually introduced myself.”</p> <p>"Calendar," Calendar responded, "Nice to meet you, Isaac."</p> <p>Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Calendar?"</p> <p>"Y-yeah…" she stammered back.</p> <p>Isaac flipped back around and crossed his arms over hers, staring up at the ceiling.</p> <p>"That's a nice name."</p> <p>Calendar laughed again and stared up at the ceiling alongside Isaac.</p> <p>"Yeah," she whispered under her breath, "Yeah it is."</p> <p><br/> <br/></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/olympus-has-fallen-in-love">A Match Made in LITERAL HELL</a>" by Iszth, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/olympus-has-fallen-in-love">https://scpwiki.com/olympus-has-fallen-in-love</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:adult-content-warning">:scp-wiki:component:adult-content-warning</a> \|sexual-references=1 ]] [[module CSS]] :root { --accentColor: #1EB5E8; --darkColor: #101112; --darkerColor:#020203; } body { font-family: 'Inter', sans-serif; font-size: .9325rem; color: #dedede; accent-color: var(--accentColor); } :root { --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "Secure. Contain. Protect."; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] @@@@ @@@@ The doors to the club swung open against the walls with a loud bang, barely audible over the intense rave music filling the neon lit room. [[[scp-7666\|Agent Calendar]]] straightened her jacket and took care not to step on the crumpled bouncer on the floor as she entered the club. Bright colours flashed over the Lust demons littering the the dance floor, dancing in piles of hedonistic pleasure as was to be expected. Or, at the very least what //looked// like dancing at first glance. Typically people tend not to dance horizontally. Whatever. She came here to do a job and that's what she intended to do. Normally she'd be protecting Director House's ass from some outside threat or, more expectedly, himself. But she was the only one qualified to search among the dregs of Undervegas and follow the trail of the target. Though, she had to bust a few heads along her way of course. Well, 'had to' might be a bit misleading but heads were definitely busted and she got the leads she needed. Calendar stepped into the club and peered through the fog of body heat and aerosolised sweat, scanning the crowd for her mark. Most were naked, a lot were probably not far off, and some likely would've been better off if they were. Stains don't come out easy after a night in one of these clubs. A cacophony of all sorts of demons were enjoying every moment of the deep haze of pleasure that came with such an establishment, but what she was after was something a bit different. Calendar had begun shoving through the crowd of various fuckubi before she spotted what she had been looking for all night. Sitting at the bar was a rather peculiar sight; a human dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. It was like he had been plucked right out of the middle of Vegas and hadn't even noticed the biblical lack of decency that was now surrounding him. But of course to Calendar, that was exactly what she was looking for. She had found her man. She pushed the remainder of the crowd aside to meet him at the bar. Standing behind the man she laid a firm grip on his shoulder and glared down at him with a fiery expression. "You," she shouted over the music with a smirk on her face, "You're coming with me." The man didn't react immediately. His shoulders slumped beside him and he let out a light sigh. After a few moments spent with Calendar’s fingers on his collar, he took a shot from a pile sitting in front of him, and looked over his shoulder. His eyes were a shining and florescent violet, glowing so brightly it made the neon lights in the club seem dull by comparison. Calendar was slightly taken aback by the sight and tightened her grip, ready for him to make a run for it or, even better, put up a fight. Either way, she was sure he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7454 \| Isaac]]] stared up at the demoness, wondering what he had done to this particularly sinewy and slightly sadistic looking individual that would warrant such an aggressive approach. Had he insulted her? Stole from her? Stolen her boyfriend? Her dad? Both? Isaac searched his admittedly fuzzy memory for any familiar recollections involving this towering mass of red muscle he found himself on the bad side of. But, search as he might, nothing came to mind. Isaac looked back down to the bar in front of him and over to the scantily clad demon pouring drinks. "Sorry love, but if I broke your heart or whatever just know that I am truly, deeply sorry," he glanced over his shoulder again and smiled, "Oh, and I'm not going anywhere." Isaac raised a hand to gesture the bartender incubus over to him. Calendar's grip loosened as she moved around Isaac to lean on the bar next to him. She glared down at him with an even bigger smile than before. "As much as I'd like to have a bit of fun before heading back, I am on the clock and I'm technically banned from this club." Calendar pressed lightly into the bar she was leaning on, causing the stone surface to crack and fracture, "Ya know, property damage and such." Isaac scoffed as the bartender poured a large glass filled with a suspiciously viscous looking fluid. "Oh really? Same." Isaac grabbed the glass and broke eye contact with Calendar briefly to examine it. His eyes glanced over to the grinning bartender, and back to the drink. Isaac's eyes narrowed at the rather suggestive fluid as he tentatively took a swig. Not bad, a bit dubious, but at least some part of it was alcoholic. Calendar straightened up and began cracking her knuckles. "Last chance. You should know, I really don't mind taking you in by fo-" Calendar was cut off by the guttural sound of demon clearing his throat, or perhaps someone attempting to start up a weedwhacker, just as several large demonic bouncers surrounded them both. One placed a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder mid drink, as another came around to face them both. "Well, well. If it isn't the two biggest troublemakers on this side of the district," the fantastically muscled and pink skinned demon proclaimed, "The living truck with anger issues and the world's most cream-filled twinkie." Isaac, who had not stopped drinking the suspicious liquid, choked on his drink and coughed spilling it over himself and soaking his clothes. "Hey!" said the now drenched and stained Isaac, "I resent that sentiment!" The muscular demon boss adjusted his booty shorts and continued. "Why don't you two just scamper on outta here like the good little cockroaches you are, and me and the boys won't have to lay you two out, yeah?" Calendar shuddered and her fists clenched. Finally, nothing like reversing a few limbs to make a long night worth the trouble. The smile on her face returned as she eyed the gang of eight heavily bulked up demons. This was gonna be so much fun. Before Calendar could wipe that cocky smirk off the pink wonder that had so unwisely picked a fight with her, Isaac stood up, wiped the liquid off his hoodie, and walked over to the flexing mass of living daddy issues. He stood there for just a moment, smiled up at the monster towering above him, and then delivered a truly ungodly amount of force directly into the demon's privates. With a loud pop, time seemed to slow as the rosy tower was reduced to a crumpled heap in front of them both. There was a long pause as all the demons in the club were now eyeing the duo standing over the short shorts wearing deflated party balloon that was once recognisable as a lust demon bouncer. Isaac looked over to Calendar and smiled. "Oops." In a flash, the remaining muscular demon henchmen rushed the duo as the club erupted into chaos. Calendar took the first move, grabbing a massive 13 foot tall monstrosity that had charged her by the arm and dealing a bone shattering blow directly to his ribcage. The hit sent the beast flying across the club into a far wall, causing the whole building to shake violently as two smaller creatures wearing leather tuxedos leapt into the air above her. Calendar spun around and pulled both her arms back, ready to perform some impromptu interior decorating to the ceiling. Isaac threw the glass in his hand across the room at the large red-ish orc thing that had pushed him down into the barstool earlier. The reflexes of the ogre were shockingly quick, catching the glass just before it hit his head and holding it while a smile stretched across his pug like face. As if in response to his smugness, the glass suddenly exploded into a fiery gaseous cloud of extremely fragrant perfume, sending him crashing across the bar and leaving him smelling like a dying rosebed. Isaac laughed and turned just in time to take a direct hit to the face by a chain-clad, taurus-horned demon, sending him flying over the bar into the rows of suggestively labelled liquor. He landed with a crash and let out a pained groan. "Ugh..." grumbled Isaac as he flipped onto his back and let out a sigh, "Fuckin'... Minotaur lookin' ass..." Calendar stood with both her arms extended, fists letting off smoke as the two demon shaped holes in the ceiling dropped debris into the nightclub. Almost on instinct, she spun around with her leg extended and collided it with the side of bouncer's head who had tried to take her by surprise. The demon flew across the room and into the waiting downwards fist of Calendar, who had covered the distance in a split second, parting the demonic orgy sea like the world's worst depiction of Moses. The demon disappeared into the earth below, leaving behind no trace beyond a gaping hole and a pair of gently floating stockings. She turned to look at a chiselled dominatrix style demon bouncer holding a whip. The demon smiled at her and Calendar, of course, smiled back, before launching off the ground in the bouncer's direction. Isaac shuffled across the ground with his back against the bar, picking up a bottle of vodka along the way. He looked over at the terrified incubus bartender hiding out of harms way. Isaac gave the demon a wink, before taking a large swig from the bottle and leaping up over the counter. Isaac tossed the bottle at the minotaur demon which shattered across its face. As it stumbled, Isaac clicked his fingers together, producing a small flame which he brought to his mouth, and then released a torrent of intense fire at the bull man. A whip crackled and snapped around the room leaving gashes across the floor and walls surrounding the two demonesses. Calendar launched several furious punches towards the scantily clad succubus, but she dodged each of them with the unrelenting grace of a cockroach against a can of bug spray. The succubus bent over backwards before flipping over Calendar and wrapping the whip around her arm, pulling it taut to bring Calendar to attention. "Easy now big girl," the succubus taunted "Wouldn't wanna leave some marks on that pretty face would we?" "Yours or mine?" Calendar retorted before grabbing and yanking the whip with such force, the succubus flew over to her position. The succubus barely had time to react before being met with the titanium clothesline that was Calendar's arm. With a loud 'Grk!' the succubus was now out of action. The bull man, now engulfed in flames, ran towards a nearby fountain overflowing with lubricant looking to douse the fire. Isaac, in response, let out a shrill whistle. The apparently and understandably infinite amount of lubricant within the fountain sprang to life in the form of several large tentacles that grabbed the bull by the legs. The tentacles swung the bull around the room before firing him off like a bowling ball into a distant pile of demons, the slickness of the minotaur's body ensuring a clean strike. "Tell Daedalus he can keep the fuckin' bond!" Isaac shouted at the unconscious bovine demon, "Now, who else wants some?!" As if to answer the unwise questioning of the fallen deity, a truly gargantuan beast sidled up beside Isaac and placed a massive hand on his shoulder. Isaac turned to look up to the red and fanged demon, bulging with muscle, just as the regret could truly set in. "Ah," Isaac muttered to himself, "Fuck." Calendar finished untangling herself from the surprisingly sturdy whip just as Isaac flew past her head at a horrific speed, burying him in a nearby wall. Calendar turned to look over the demonic goliath that now stood in front of her, as he brought his fist to meet Calendar's crossed arms. Despite the attack not causing any damage, the lighter Calendar was sent flying into her own crater right beside Isaac. "You know," started Calendar while climbing out of the crater, "I really think I'm starting to love this job!" Calendar looked over to the battered and bruised Isaac. "I thought I'd have to just drag you back like a spoiled kid, but this is way better don't you think?" Isaac painfully lifted himself out of his personal impression in the wall and glared over at Calendar. "Oh yeah, I'm having the best time over here," Isaac responded, falling to the ground before lifting himself up, "Are you sure you're not related to my ex by chance?" "No idea what you mean!" Calendar shouted down to Isaac before turning her attention back to what was one nose job away from being a literal elephant in the room, "But hey, this guy looks like the last man standing. So you ready to wrap this up?" Isaac cracked his neck and stood up straight. "Yeah, fine. I really need a shower after this." The demonic overlord laughed in a deep bellowing voice at the two puny rats standing in front of him. With a flex of his muscles he stood to full height, massive horns scraping the ceiling. His fanged mouth, like that of an angler fish, was grinning widely and dripping with saliva. He began cracking his knuckles in preparation for the absolute devilish beating he was about to dish out. "First one's mine!" Calendar belted out before leaping off her position. In a flash, Calendar closed the distance between the two and landed a devastating kick to the side of the massive demon's arm, causing him to stumble. But before she could draw her leg back for another blow, the demon then grabbed Calendar by the leg, and swung her around before throwing her across the room into the nearby bar where she landed on a liquor soaked bed of broken bottles and shot glasses. Isaac leapt into action following Calendar's lead, sprinting towards the monster, grabbing a broken chair leg on the way. Isaac threw the chair leg towards the beast as it transformed into a swarm of rat sized wasps that began stinging at the demon's face. The demon staggered while swatting at the insects as Isaac slid under his legs and grabbed the whip left behind by the succubus who had undergone rapid unscheduled tracheotomy a few moments earlier. The whip transformed into a long vicious looking vine in Isaac's hand, which he cracked across the demon's calf and swung around the room. Everywhere it landed, various flowers, ferns, and even a number of trees began to sprout and grow rapidly, adding to the club's no doubt skyrocketing insurance claim. The demon snapped his attention to the up-and-coming gardener that had somehow caused lilies to sprout from his ankle, and kicked his massive hooved leg backwards. The iron like foot collided with Isaac's gut, sending him rolling across the slick floor and into a support pillar wrapped up in roots, winding him. The tree had cracked under the impact and sap poured from the pillar into Isaac's hair, raising the increasingly sticky deity's shower time. Calendar grabbed the shattered remains of the poor heavily beaten bar, and threw it at the monster's head. The counter knocked the creature backwards into a wall, with his horn impaling a large disco ball. Lights flickered off the beast as it moved rapidly towards the bar once more, just as Calendar launched forwards landing furious punch after punch into his gut and chest. The beast raised an arm to smash down on Calendar, but large, animate vines whipped out from behind him and wrapped themselves around his arm and neck, causing large flowers and roots to grow and from his skin and bark to encase him. The demon looked back at the staggering Isaac, vine in hand, which had now split and come to life tangling the monstrosity in thorny, fibrous appendages. With a mighty pull, Isaac managed to yank the beast away from Calendar, who then sent a thunderous kick into the massive leg in front of her, shattering the bark and bringing the behemoth back down to his knees. Isaac used the vines to swing up onto the horns of the creature and wrap his arms around one. He heaved and strained before a loud snap echoed across the room and the massive horn fell to the ground with an enormous thud. The demon screamed and reached for Isaac, but Calendar sent another blow directly into the monster's elbow, causing his arm to go limp. Calendar then grabbed the creature's leg, and with a loud yell, swung him around the room and sent him flying back into what at one time might've been considered a bar. Isaac fell off the demon and landed with a stumble next to Calendar, still holding the whip. "Not bad for a scrawny little sprite." said Calendar. "Not bad for... whatever the hell you're supposed to be." Isaac replied. The two glanced at each other and smiled, just as the behemoth began to rise to his feet again. He was glowing with a red hot aura that gave away his pure, unbridled rage. He let out a truly gargantuan howl that shook the foundations of the building before bursting into flames and charging at the duo once more. "Together?" the two said in unison, before snapping their attention to the charging beast. Calendar grabbed Isaac and threw him towards the mountain bearing down on them. The vine in his hands spun and whipped out at the beast, wrapping around it's neck. Calendar began sprinting at such a pace that the floor cracked under her footfalls, before she smashed into the monster's ribs with a thunderous crack. Isaac swung around off the beast's neck and back around to Calendar, who grabbed the vine and yanked it as hard as she could, causing the monster to fly through the air from the force. Isaac slid under the beasts airborne mass and let out a punch of his own into it's gut, causing a dazzling flash of light as the creature's body rippled like water before flipping over them both. The creature came crashing down to Earth, likely causing what would be described as a hellquake by denizens for weeks to come. The beast, now completely and thoroughly dazed by the beating, only had a brief moment of clarity to open his eyes just in time witness a red fist bury his head under the flooring of the club. And with a final whimper, the goliath beast had been gloriously felled. Calendar rose from the monster's body to look at Isaac, sitting on the floor. They both looked around the room at the devastation they caused and began laughing. "Man... all I wanted was a drink," Isaac scoffed while looking at the smashed bottles across the floor. "And all I wanted was a good fight," Calendar retorted. "And all I wanted," an unknown voice echoed across the destroyed club, "Was to have one night where I didn't have to clean up after the likes of you two." A fancily dressed and androgynous looking demon stepped out from an adjacent room and into the light. Their skin was a light pink and they sported two large curled horns atop their head. Surrounding them was a large horde of very serious looking demonic bouncers, complete with suits and sunglasses. In Hell. At night. "Look at the absolute mess you two have caused here. Normally, I can deal with one of you in my club but the two of you together? Seriously, what the actual fuck did I do to deserve such an ungodly pairing? It's unfit for even us lust demons!" the well carried demon chided. "Byleth!" Isaac shouted with open arms, "Good to see you again buddy!" "You." Byleth snapped back, "Your uncle should've kept you far away from here, whore." "Whore?" Isaac looked over to Calendar, "They call //me// a whore?" Calendar folded her arms. "Your clubs were always so boring. Where's the fun? The action?" Byleth pointed over to the mass of bruised and groaning demons on the dance floor. "That //was// the action. You effectively reduced the action to a sopping puddle!" Byleth paused, "Well... an unintended kind of puddle at least." "It’s not my fault they couldn't handle a bit of roughhousing." Calendar pouted. "Roughhousing?!" Byleth shouted in an echoing voice, causing the lights to dim as their eyes glowed, "You call this fucking roughhousing?! This is like calling the fucking apocalypse a 'warm Texan Summer'!" The lights came back as Byleth brought their hand to their face, rubbed their temple, and sighed. "Can you two just, like, get the fuck out. I have a shit ton of cleaning to do now and I can't be fucked dealing with you two on top of this tonight." "Sounds like a plan!" Isaac said while jumping to his feet, another bottle in hand. "Lets blow this joint! I've had enough ‘revelry’ for one night." Isaac began walking to the exit as Calendar turned to follow. "Oh and by the way," Byleth shouted, "All of this will be added to your tab. That goes for both of you!" Isaac and Calendar ignored Byleth as they stumbled out the front door into the cold night air. The strip was illuminated by a rainbow of neon lights from all the signs advertising strip clubs, brothels, pretty much every kind of underground form of debauchery you can imagine. Isaac took in a deep breath then turned to Calendar with his arms outstretched. "So!" he shouted "Who and what was so important they sent a howitzer with legs to come get me?" Calendar folded her arms and glared down at the tiny trickster. "The Foundation. Something about you not staying put, House looked more annoyed than usual." Isaac's smirk faded and his arms fell. "Foundation huh?" Isaac looked down to the ground. "Is... Riley upset with me?" "Don't know who that is." "Right..." Isaac and Calendar stood there for a moment before Isaac's eyes rose to meet Calendar's. "Listen, you don't seem like you're in a hurry any more than I am." Isaac's smile returned as he moved his hands behind him and cocked his head to the side "How about we find a place to stay for the night before you, er, 'capture' me?" Calendar looked around at the strip surrounding her. She was always fond of the night in Undervegas, and being back home felt somewhat 'right'. She was sure that House wouldn't try something like fight a tank with his bare hands before she got back. After all, there's no way he wouldn't invite //her// along if he did, right? Calendar let out a sigh and looked down at Isaac again, whose violet eyes glowed almost as bright as the neon lights surrounding them. "Alright," Calendar said to the sprite of a man, "But I get to pick the hotel." Isaac perked up at this and shot his hands into the air. "Perfect!" he shouted before spinning around, "Onwards then! To silken sheets and hot water, 'cause good god I need a shower." Calendar scoffed as Isaac started to march off into the night. As she followed him down the street towards the hotel she pointed them towards, Calendar found herself wondering who exactly this guy was. The tricks he used in that fight, the cheerful vibe, hell even the fact he could take a punch or fifty made Calendar think there was so much more to this strange little man than she initially thought. Calendar's mind wandered as they made their way into the night, absentmindedly listening to Isaac humming a strangely entrancing tune. ---- "Don't break anything this time" the sagging and crotchety hotel employee behind the counter warned the two as she handed them their key with long, speckled pink claws. "I won't." said Isaac and Calendar concurrently. The demonic secretary attempted to hide her concern as she went back to reading a dirty magazine on proper horn maintenance. Isaac and Calendar marched through the brightly decorated halls of the hotel to their room, and burst through the door. Compared to the aesthetic of the rest of the hotel, the room had an uncharacteristically luxurious feel to it, with a large bed covered in silk fabrics, a large and impressive shower, and a number of rather suggestive sculptures all illuminated by the neon glow spilling in from the window. Come to think of it, it seemed like the interior decorators had never designed anything beyond love hotels. But hey, that’s what you get staying in the Lust district. "Yes!" Isaac shouted with absolute delight. "A shower! Finally!" Calendar had not so much as closed the door behind them before Isaac had removed his hoodie and shirt, and kicked off his shoes. "Hope you don't mind me taking one first?" Isaac said while straightening his back and placing a hand on his neck. "Knock yourself out," Calendar scoffed, "Don't actually though, I'm not supposed to be babysitting you. I already do that for House as my day job." Isaac snickered in response. "Well, if you were worried about that," Isaac's eye gleamed over his shoulder with a unusually piercing look, "You could always join me." Calendar blinked. For some reason that look had her finding trouble to find the words to respond. But before she could stammer out a retort, Isaac turned back to the shower and laughed. "Anyway, time to wash all the leftover demon out of my hair. Place was nasty even by my standards." Isaac then moved into the shower and out of sight. Calendar watched as she heard the water turn on and steam began billowing out of the cracked open door. Suddenly she felt a surge of rage. Did this little thing really just make her stutter? Stop her responding with a mere look? Was it a challenge? A threat? No! No, she wouldn't lose something so stupid to someone so puny! Calendar clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Alright. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he'll get. She ripped off her jacket and stormed into the shower ready to show this little vixen who's boss. Steam filled the air with an almost ethereal presence as Calendar entered and peered through the room, water coalescing on her bare skin and dripping over her chiselled physique. She saw Isaac standing under the torrent of the shower, his sleek and exposed pixie-like build accentuated by the flowing waterfall, the scene almost looking as if he thought a photographer was nearby. If Calendar didn't know better, she would've sworn this boy was a high ranking incubus in disguise. Isaac opened his eyes and glanced over to meet Calendar's who was standing there, steam rising from her body in rage, or perhaps some other passionate emotion. Isaac smiled, to which Calendar responded by storming up to the nude siren until she was standing inches from and above him, glaring down at his smirking face ready to tear him several new ones. Isaac looked up at the monstrous and glowing red demoness, now covered in flowing water herself. It trickled down over her chest and onto her perfectly toned abs, and eventually over the clenched fists hanging by her sides. Isaac pulled his eyes back up to Calendar's just as she pulled back her arm into a locked position ready to fire a missile like punch in the young man's direction. With a flex of her heavily muscled arm, the shot fired towards Isaac and barely missed his head. Her fist buried itself into the wall causing the tiles to crack and crater under the immense might as the building shook around them. Isaac did not break eye contact, nor stop smiling. Instead he simply tilted his head to the side to rest on Calendar's arm. Calendar stood for a moment, taking in the otherworldly sight in front of her. This strange and fae-like man wasn't scared of her at all. Not only that, but he wasn't afraid to fight or even take a hit. And for some ungodly reason this made Calendar's heart swell up into her chest, like a boiling rage that would level the city if she let it out. But she knew one last thing that would make this wannabe challenger crumple. Her trump card. Calendar reached out with her free hand and grabbed the side of Isaac's head. She pulled her fist from the destroyed wall behind him and grabbed Isaac around the waist, pulling him close to her and pressing him against her body. She scoffed once looking at the now doe eyed Isaac, before planting a kiss directly on his lips. There. That'll show him. The steam billowed and twisted in unnatural shapes as water droplets began to hang in the air around them and grow like miniature planetoids. The room lit up with bright pink and blue flickering lights as the various structures around them bent and shattered with their movements around the room. One listening in to this cacophony of lights and destruction might think a monstrous fight had broken out, if it wasn't for the echoing cries of pleasure shaking the foundations of the building alongside them. Oh well. In the end, what's some more property damage added to the list? ---- Calendar woke up the next morning feeling unusually relaxed. Normally for this level of calm she would have to visit the gluttony district's spas, or disassemble a small army with extreme prejudice. She took in a deep breath and looked around slowly at her surroundings. The silken sheets of the bed she was laying in were wrapped around her waist. The room around her lied in absolute ruin with //no// piece of furniture left unscathed. A gentle wind blew through the room as the curtains gave way to faint flickers of red light. And in her arms, his head gently laying against her bare chest, was Isaac, fast asleep and none the worse for wear. She stared at the impish boy with a strange feeling in her chest. She took a deep breath in and moved her arm up off his hip to his shoulder, attempting not to wake him. Isaac began stirring and let out a whimper as he woke up from a deep sleep. His shining eyes opened slightly before dimming against the red light. He looked up at Calendar who had him in a tight but soft grip, a grip not he nor Calendar thought she was at all capable of. Isaac stretched and turned to lay on his back, looking up at the demoness huddling him in her arms. He smiled and reached a hand up to hold hers, now laying gently on his chest. "G'morning." Isaac managed to whimper out from a hoarse throat. "Morning." Calendar growled, clearly and with authority. Isaac giggled before speaking again. "I suppose you'll be taking me back to the Foundation now, eh?" Calendar waited a moment before responding. "Yeah, that's the plan. My way back comes through in a few hours and the next one won't be for a few days." Isaac let out a light sigh and turned to gaze out the window at the red sky. "But, you know," Calendar continued, "I might be too slow to catch it." Isaac turned back at the now smiling Calendar. "Shame," he scoffed, "I guess both Riley and House will have to wait, huh?" Calendar laughed before wrapping her arm around Isaac's waist and onto his stomach. "I guess so." she jeered. Isaac spun around in Calendar's arms onto his belly, with Calendar's hand now resting gently on his lower back. "My name is Isaac, by the way," he said resting his head back on Calendar's chest. “It occurred to me I never actually introduced myself.” "Calendar," Calendar responded, "Nice to meet you, Isaac." Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Calendar?" "Y-yeah..." she stammered back. Isaac flipped back around and crossed his arms over hers, staring up at the ceiling. "That's a nice name." Calendar laughed again and stared up at the ceiling alongside Isaac. "Yeah," she whispered under her breath, "Yeah it is." @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-15T11:14:00	[ "_adult", "_licensebox", "action", "agent-calendar", "fantasy", "romance", "tale", "undervegas" ]	A Match Made in LITERAL HELL - SCP Foundation	16	[ "prev", "next", "scp-7666", "scp-7454", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "undervegas-hub" ]	[]	1448483559	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/olympus-has-fallen-in-love
opulence	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="preview"> <p>But then we all died. Well, sort of. Everyone except me— Well, sort of.</p> </div> <p>Months had passed since the world went beautiful, though that beauty had faded into a distant memory of what it once was. At first, it was a sight to behold; A verdant canvas blanketed the planet as flowers of all kinds ignored season, sun, and soil preference to just <em>be there</em>. Have you ever just <em>been</em>? Well, it's nice. It is a nice feeling.</p> <p>But then we all died. Well, sort of. Everyone except me— Well, sort of.</p> <p>For most, those tulips and hydrangeas outside grew to enormous sizes and took humanity out by the thousands without intention nor remorse. Then came monstrous spiral ferns uncoiling themselves across Manhattan. Single blades of grass skewering buildings as errant bamboo shoots were to asphalt a mere moment ago.</p> <p>After it all calmed down, the air tasted clearer. It smelled of ozone, smoldering ash, and about five billion other things swirling in olfactory chaos. Sadly, there were so few left to enjoy it. There was me, and that handful of forgotten things you don't consider life. Micro and macro mistakes. Yeah, I understood the case file.</p> <blockquote> <p><em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lily-s-proposal">SCP-001</a> will occur exactly 24 hours before the death of all life on the planet.</em></p> </blockquote> <p>We looked to the sky for the first time in years, shielded through hands mutilated by disaster or the old Consensus, and found the background painful. The Azure made our eyes weep, nearly blinding us with a vibrancy unlike anything we've <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-8900-EX">ever seen</a>. Even if you couldn't see it, you could feel it, bouncing about the room, photons colliding— mostly missing.</p> <p>Much worse were the noises; Cerulean raindrops careening off makeshift tents in the quieter moments, while ramshackle homes filled with more rooms than the last screeched and bent in agony under slight breezes, yet held fast. Shadows moved silently in the distance. Flashes accompanied by dark rumbles in tow. Harmless as far as anyone was able to determine. But what is harm when you've survived the end of everything?<br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/></p> <p>Turns out harm is waking to a mouthful of hot, white sand in the silken dunes where whole towns once were. The still waves had engulfed half the nonliving friends I'd gathered on my way, filling them with soft silica until the desert tides rose over their bodies and took them away. We mourned, but not in ceremony, for we knew funerals were reserved for things that once were but now aren't. Then, we moved onward through the pale landscape.</p> <p>The few that remained scoured a submerged local Secure Facility for supplies, friends, and Site-19's coordinates. We found none of those things, but we knew there were more places to look; There's a source for everything, right? And, sure, Everything might be dead and gone, even us, who knows. But things begin and they end. There is no exception. We've always been told that. We're either active or inactive. Broken or functional. Anomalous or neutralized.<br/> <br/> <br/> </p> <p> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> That's how things are. That's how <em>we</em> are. And we persisted. We had no choice.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> </p> <p> <br/> </p> <p> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <sup>Many</sup><br/> <br/> </p> <p> <sup>years</sup></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <sup><sub>pass</sub></sup><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The man in robes looked up in a surprise that faded instantly. Ours remained for far longer.</p> <p>"Oh. You're still here, too. Looking exactly the same as we last met. Yeah, I definitely changed. Not sure what I am anymore. It ain't exactly dead, not yet, or anymore. Certainly not alive, either. Not yet. Or anymore. "</p> <p>"But I <em>have</em> learned something, in all my time in the desert: everything dies, eventually. Even that which has already died. You can't escape fate. Tick-tock, tick-tock. "<br/> <br/> His tone was unreadable yet for the unmistakable rank of misery, "You know, it cannot outrun <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4260">Death</a>, it cannot outrun this decaying universe. I will not allow it! I will follow you until we both fade into nothing!" The Earth shook. The sands shifted in response, but remained harmless.<br/> <br/> Eons of anger and anguish alike poured forth, where sobbing now interrupted brief threats shot into the air. "You hear that, you piece of shit! You stole <em>everything</em> from me! Everything!"</p> <p>The fine sand that piled in heaps around him did not appear concerned. He leaned in closer to one, anyway.</p> <p>"I'm coming for <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-stars-do-not-wait-for-you">you</a>. You're my ticket out of this shithole, and it's one-way. I hope to fucking god it's one-way when we annihilate. Either we both go to Hell or we're already here and I'm getting the fuck out."</p> <p>"It won't be like going beautifully, but at least I'll get to leave."</p> <p><br/> In some ways, that man won his battle.<br/></p> <br/> <sup><sub>but really, don't get me wrong, he immediately walked up to whatever that thing is and just sort of turned into sand while screaming in terror</sub></sup> <br/> <sup><sub>it was super fucked up but also kinda underwhelming</sub></sup> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/opulence">OPULENCE</a>" by Billith, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/opulence">https://scpwiki.com/opulence</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:eigenmachine">:scp-wiki:theme:eigenmachine</a> light=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wide-image-sizer">:scp-wiki:component:wide-image-sizer</a>]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:preview">:scp-wiki:component:preview</a> text=But then we all died. Well, sort of. Everyone except me-- Well, sort of.]] ===== [[module CSS]] :root { --basalt-main-text-color: 31, 28, 31; --basalt-background-color: 237, 237, 237; --header-logo: none; --header-title:"OPULENCE"; --header-subtitle:""; --abstractor:hidden; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Months had passed since the world went beautiful, though that beauty had faded into a distant memory of what it once was. At first, it was a sight to behold; A verdant canvas blanketed the planet as flowers of all kinds ignored season, sun, and soil preference to just //be there//. Have you ever just //been//? Well, it's nice. It is a nice feeling. But then we all died. Well, sort of. Everyone except me-- Well, sort of. For most, those tulips and hydrangeas outside grew to enormous sizes and took humanity out by the thousands without intention nor remorse. Then came monstrous spiral ferns uncoiling themselves across Manhattan. Single blades of grass skewering buildings as errant bamboo shoots were to asphalt a mere moment ago. After it all calmed down, the air tasted clearer. It smelled of ozone, smoldering ash, and about five billion other things swirling in olfactory chaos. Sadly, there were so few left to enjoy it. There was me, and that handful of forgotten things you don't consider life. Micro and macro mistakes. Yeah, I understood the case file. > //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lily-s-proposal SCP-001] will occur exactly 24 hours before the death of all life on the planet.// We looked to the sky for the first time in years, shielded through hands mutilated by disaster or the old Consensus, and found the background painful. The Azure made our eyes weep, nearly blinding us with a vibrancy unlike anything we've [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/SCP-8900-EX ever seen]. Even if you couldn't see it, you could feel it, bouncing about the room, photons colliding-- mostly missing. Much worse were the noises; Cerulean raindrops careening off makeshift tents in the quieter moments, while ramshackle homes filled with more rooms than the last screeched and bent in agony under slight breezes, yet held fast. Shadows moved silently in the distance. Flashes accompanied by dark rumbles in tow. Harmless as far as anyone was able to determine. But what is harm when you've survived the end of everything? @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ @@ @@ Turns out harm is waking to a mouthful of hot, white sand in the silken dunes where whole towns once were. The still waves had engulfed half the nonliving friends I'd gathered on my way, filling them with soft silica until the desert tides rose over their bodies and took them away. We mourned, but not in ceremony, for we knew funerals were reserved for things that once were but now aren't. Then, we moved onward through the pale landscape. The few that remained scoured a submerged local Secure Facility for supplies, friends, and Site-19's coordinates. We found none of those things, but we knew there were more places to look; There's a source for everything, right? And, sure, Everything might be dead and gone, even us, who knows. But things begin and they end. There is no exception. We've always been told that. We're either active or inactive. Broken or functional. Anomalous or neutralized. @@@@ @@@@ That's how things are. That's how //we// are. And we persisted. We had no choice. @@@@ ^^Many^^ @@@@ ^^years^^ @@ @@ @@ @@ ^^,,pass,,^^ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div style-"clear:both;"]] [[/div]] The man in robes looked up in a surprise that faded instantly. Ours remained for far longer. "Oh. You're still here, too. Looking exactly the same as we last met. Yeah, I definitely changed. Not sure what I am anymore. It ain't exactly dead, not yet, or anymore. Certainly not alive, either. Not yet. Or anymore. " "But I //have// learned something, in all my time in the desert: everything dies, eventually. Even that which has already died. You can't escape fate. Tick-tock, tick-tock. " @@ @@ His tone was unreadable yet for the unmistakable rank of misery, "You know, it cannot outrun [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4260 Death], it cannot outrun this decaying universe. I will not allow it! I will follow you until we both fade into nothing!" The Earth shook. The sands shifted in response, but remained harmless. @@ @@ Eons of anger and anguish alike poured forth, where sobbing now interrupted brief threats shot into the air. "You hear that, you piece of shit! You stole //everything// from me! Everything!" The fine sand that piled in heaps around him did not appear concerned. He leaned in closer to one, anyway. "I'm coming for [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-stars-do-not-wait-for-you you]. You're my ticket out of this shithole, and it's one-way. I hope to fucking god it's one-way when we annihilate. Either we both go to Hell or we're already here and I'm getting the fuck out." "It won't be like going beautifully, but at least I'll get to leave." @@ @@ In some ways, that man won his battle. @@ @@ [[div style="clear:both;"]] [[/div]] ^^,,but really, don't get me wrong, he immediately walked up to whatever that thing is and just sort of turned into sand while screaming in terror,,^^ [[div style="clear:both;"]] [[/div]] ^^,,it was super fucked up but also kinda underwhelming,,^^ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Billith]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-12T00:13:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	OPULENCE - SCP Foundation	18	[ "lily-s-proposal", "SCP-8900-EX", "scp-4260", "the-stars-do-not-wait-for-you", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023" ]	[]	1447720406	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opulence
opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="box alertbar"> <p>Warning: The OpusConfidant battlebase is</p> <div class="classified"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/about-the-scp-foundation">COMPETITIVE</a></p> </div> <p>Up-and-coming match-ups will be tracked, located, and unleashed.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="blockquote large"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>WELCOME TO OPUSCONFIDANT!</strong></span><br/> <em>The community-driven SCP encyclopedia</em></p> <p>Greetings! OpusConfidant is the largest SCP Foundation community specialising in competitive analysis and battling, as well as a concise and dynamic repository of all things SCP to which anyone can contribute. Feel free to browse the constantly updating SCP database for info on your favourite anomalies, or create an account to edit pages and discuss techniques and strategies with fellow battlers! We currently have 17,463 articles on a wide range of SCP-related topics.</p> <p>Come and learn!</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="content-grid"> <div class="content-box opus"> <div class="content-type-title"> <p>Tier Listing Updates!</p> </div> <div class="content-type-description"> <p>The Tier List Update for March is available! Come see which SCPs saw surges in viability and which plummeted to a lower tier <a href="/news-03-2023">here!</a></p> <hr/> <p>The Tier List Update for February is available! Come see which SCPs saw surges in viability and which plummeted to a lower tier <a href="/news-02-2023">here!</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="box art"> <div class="title"> <p>ART SPOTLIGHT</p> </div> <div class="caption"> <p>This month's <a href="/artwork-hub">Featured Artists</a>: HarryBlank, Fantem, syuzhet</p> </div> <div class="footer"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>></span> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/artist-showcase-archive">Past Art Spotlights</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="content-box opus"> <div class="content-type-title"> <p>FEATURED SCPs</p> </div> <div class="content-type-description gr"><a href="#105">#0105: Shutterbug</a><br/> <a href="#173">#0173: Motonut</a><br/> <a href="#426">#0426: Me</a><br/> <a href="#527">#0527: Fishhead</a><br/> <a href="/resistile-decomm-attempt">#0682: Resistile</a><br/> <a href="#789-J">#0789-J: Asshaunter</a><br/> <a href="#1465">#1465: Polyoid</a><br/> <a href="#2337">#2337: Spankoflex</a><br/> <a href="#3002">#3002: Rolypolaroid</a><br/> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">#4380: Primus</span><br/> <a href="#4380">#1: FIRSTFIRSTFIR</a><br/> <a href="/threatini">#4645: Threatini</a><br/> <a href="#5514">#5514: Dragonslayer</a><br/> <a href="#6048">#6048: Salomotha</a></div> </div> <hr/> <div class="INT-box"><img alt="opconf-b.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight/opconf-b.png"/> <div class="INT-content"> <h4 id="toc0"><span>Compete for the International Championship!</span></h4> <h1 id="toc1"><span><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/">OPUS International</a></span></h1> <p>Check out our guides in different languages, as well as various local and national tournaments across the world.</p> </div> </div> <div class="library-container"> <div class="library {$extra-class}"><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/">Wanderers' Library</a> <div class="wl-headers"> <div class="fake-h4">Official Sponsor</div> <div class="fake-h2">↬ The Wretched Luncheon ↫</div> </div> <div class="wl-text">Hungry? Why not order some Docent de leche from our partner restaurant site, the Wretched Luncheon?</div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="font-size:110%;"><strong>Greetings!</strong></span> <p>The following collapsibles contain edits of SCP articles meant to reflect the SCP wiki's 2023 April Fool's event, OpusConfidant; a competitive battling spin on the wiki's various articles.</p> </div> <hr/> <p><a name="105"></a></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0105 Shutterbug</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0105 Shutterbug</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>Shutterbug</span></h1> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>105</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="Mortal">Mortal</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Still Frame/Focusing Lens</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Keter</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 99">99</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 83">83</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 91">91</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 83">83</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc3"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>One of the most well-known SCPs by casual and competitive alike, Shutterbug was released all the way back in Series I and has been considered a staple of many teams ever since. Due to its high speed (especially when reinforced with Photo Finish) and a highly varied movepool Shutterbug has found a home in meta teams such as O7 and AAAAAAAAA. Shutterbug is also run in more experimental teams alongside SCPs like <a href="/scp-166">Teenature</a> or <a href="/scp-239">Slumberslack</a> in the Merry Picmas and Slumberslack's Nightmare teams, though those are currently considered non-viable. From casual teams to championship rosters Shutterbug is run at all levels. No small wonder that many players claim to see this SCP everywhere.</p> <h2 id="toc4"><span>P.O.S.E.</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Optics</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Exposure</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-978">Votum Loci</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Still Frame</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Timid</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>12 HP / 244 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>P.O.S.E. is a classic move-set and game plan that has seen little change since its first use in Series I to complete the O7 team (so named because, for a time, if you came up against this team, all you could really do was salute and surrender). The plan is simple: first you set up with the delayed <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a>, hopefully stun your opponent with <a href="javascript:;">Optics</a>, stall them with <a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a> as needed, hit them with <a href="javascript:;">Exposure</a> to do some chip damage, at which point your <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a> should proc. While on its own this is nothing extraordinary P.O.S.E. really shined in the O7 team setting, especially with the use of <a href="/scp-515-arc">Fluttershy Lens</a>. This now banned item both upped the chance of getting a stun off on <a href="javascript:;">Optics</a> from 25% to 75% <em>and</em> increased move speed, making what would otherwise have been a decent moveset into an unstoppable juggernaut, especially when paired with <a href="/scp-076">Markable</a>'s Unchainable BERSERK moveset.</p> <p>With the banning of Fluttershy Lens necessitating its replacement with the far inferior <a href="/scp-978">Votum Loci</a> (much worse stun chance, no damage increase) and the power creep of later series, many have dropped this style of Shutterbug in favor of more recent SCP such as <a href="/scp-5175">Ken-Shinigami</a> or <a href="/scp-4051">Whirlpool</a>.</p> <p>Some pros do still run Shutterbug, however, among those P.O.S.E. has somewhat fallen out of favor to be replaced by Caught in 105K. However, many low-level players tend to run cookie-cutter O7 rosters so it's good to know the strat so as to easily counter it.</p> <h2 id="toc5"><span>Caught in 105K</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Four Pixel Flurry</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Focusing Lens</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Brave</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>As opposed to P.O.S.E., and most other prior Shutterbug builds, Caught in 105K focuses on attack and accuracy rather than speed and support. Pioneered by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;"><img alt="thedeadlymoose" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=732274&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=732274)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;">thedeadlymoose</a></span> as part of the AAAAAAAAA line-up in Series II this saw little, but consistent, meta usage until its surprising resurgence in the 2020 Arizona Renaissance Faire Invitational. This invitational saw multiple high-level variations of the AAAAAAAAA roster including copies of <a href="/scp-4494">SHADOWMAN</a> and <a href="/scp-4051">Whirlpool</a>. It also saw some wild variation of the classic P.O.S.E. moveset such as teching in <a href="/scp-096">Shyssasin's</a> signature move <a href="javascript:;">Four Pixel Flurry</a>, something not seen on the competitive level since <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-dan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(453417); return false;"><img alt="Dr Dan" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=453417&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=453417)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-dan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(453417); return false;">Dr Dan</a></span> all the way back in 2010.</p> <p>While an attack focused Shutterbug may seem obvious now, at the time <a href="javascript:;">Four Pixel Flurry</a> wasn't even considered due to <a href="/scp-096">Shyssasin's</a> glass canon nature (due to several much needed nerfs) causing this SCP to be dead competitively, and there just wasn't enough support for the build (niche Delta Shutterbug build aside) until the Series VII introduction of the <a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a> item and <a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a> move pairing. <a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a> causes Shutterbug to be much of a tanky SCP akin to <a href="/scp-7053">Sheller</a> with much slower speed, which is somewhat counter-intuitive for a relatively speedy character, but shows its worth by heavily reinforcing slow to build powerhouse moves like <a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a> and <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a> as well as potentially upping <a href="javascript:;">Four Pixel Flurry</a> to insta-kill range against mediocre defense stated SCPs.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc6"><span>Discussion</span></h2> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/voiiiii" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6870038); return false;"><img alt="Voiiiii" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6870038&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6870038)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/voiiiii" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6870038); return false;">Voiiiii</a></span> <div> <p>AAAAAAAAA is my favorite team to run :))</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rosysaturniidae" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7803181); return false;"><img alt="RosySaturniidae" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7803181&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7803181)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rosysaturniidae" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7803181); return false;">RosySaturniidae</a></span> <div> <p>I think the pairing of <a href="/scp-105">Shutterbug</a> with <a href="/scp-166">Teenature</a> is severely underrated, especially against threats like <a href="/scp-173">Motonut</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/nebulousstar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6388899); return false;"><img alt="NebulousStar" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6388899&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6388899)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/nebulousstar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6388899); return false;">NebulousStar</a></span> <div> <p>For sure! Especially since its typing rework from Divine to Nature gives Teenature <a href="/scp-4008">Wormseed</a> synergy.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;"><img alt="Kothardarastrix" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3460794&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3460794)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;">Kothardarastrix</a></span> <div> <p>In what world do you run Caught in 105K over P.O.S.E.?! I mean seriously how is this even up for debate?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span> <div> <p>PlaguePJP</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span> <div> <p>Good bit of lowkey synergy potential, integrated reasonably well with the O7 and AAAAAAAAA stuff. I'd expected to see that Photo Finish was added in a much later build, and was surprised to see it in the first version of the SCP to see competitive use. A cool SCP with a clever ability, a reasonably interesting movepool and obviously very competitive, well-crafted. Subjective rating: 7.5/10.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><tt>Host of Simply Competitive People</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p>Love all the fresh uses for Shutterbug that are constantly being discovered. Don't think I'll ever get sick of seeing new builds.</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc7"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="173"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0173 Motonut</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0173 Motonut</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc8"><span>Motonut</span></h1> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>173</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="auto">Auto</span><span class="mineral">Mineral</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Mold Breaker</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Keter</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 65">65</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 136">136</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 70">70</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 60">60</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 64">64</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 100">100</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <h3 id="toc9"><span>Overview</span></h3> <p>The original top dog of the metagame, and one of the evergreen staples of the Keter tier. Motonut has remained a consistent threat, with its excellent Attack and a comfortable 100 speed tier. Its primary downside comes from a limited movepool and meager 65/70/64 bulk, meaning it seldom gets a chance to switch in, and would take heavy damage even on resisted hits.</p> <p>Although Motonut can be one-dimensional in its game plan, unprepared teams can easily find themselves be torn apart, especially from repeated Masked Unseen Snap set. It also has a niche in the Apollyon tier for being one of the few SCPs capable of breaking past Resistile.</p> <h3 id="toc10"><span>Nipplenut</span></h3> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Unseen Snap</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Full Tackle</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Hammer Arm</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Summon Licensing</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-6510">Sky Ring</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Mold Breaker</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Jolly</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>252 Atk / 4 SpD / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>Motonut outspeeds most of the metagame when equipped with a Sky Ring, allowing it to snatch KOs on key threats like <a href="/scp-5175">Ken-Shinigami</a>. Unseen Snap is Motonut's choice STAB move, hitting many targets for at least neutral damage. Full Tackle let it hit <a href="/scp-999">Jellisweet</a>, while Hammer Arm gets the jump on opposing Auto-types.</p> <p>Summon Licensing gives Motonut the chance to deal massive damage to the opponent, potentially KOing both sides and let its teammate a free switch-in.</p> <p>This set's usage scenario should be determined on a case-by-case basis. Against opponents with many defensive counterplays, Motonut should be used as an early-game wallbreaker, letting it punch holes or remove key targets from the game, or as a late-game cleaner, after opposing SCPs have been weakened enough to be unable to live a STAB Unseen Snap.</p> <h1 id="toc11"><span>Discussion</span></h1> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;"><img alt="DrClef" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=213153&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=213153)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;">DrClef</a></span> <div> <p>nut</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-gears" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172464); return false;"><img alt="Dr Gears" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=172464&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=172464)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-gears" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172464); return false;">Dr Gears</a></span> <div> <p>nut</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moto42" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(175861); return false;"><img alt="Moto42" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=175861&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=175861)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moto42" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(175861); return false;">Moto42</a></span> <div> <p>nut</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-masipag" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172570); return false;"><img alt="Lt Masipag" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=172570&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=172570)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-masipag" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172570); return false;">Lt Masipag</a></span> <div> <p>nut</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p><a href="/scp-371-j">no nut</a></p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc12"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="426"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0426 Me</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0426 Me</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc13"><span>Me</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>426</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="auto">Auto</span><span class="dread">Dread</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">ego</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Euclid</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 190">190</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 33">30</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 58">59</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 33">30</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 58">59</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 33">30</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <h3 id="toc14"><span>Overview</span></h3> <p>A staple in the Euclid Tier that in the right circumstances is able to punch above its weightclass. While the stats of Me alone make it seem like it is semi-optimal for taking heavy damage, the same can not be said if you take its unique moveset and ability into account. With the synergy of Ego and Same Joke it has remained a stable annoyance since the very first series. Its primary downside comes from a very limited movepool and horrendous stats outside of HP, making Me virtually unusable outside of very specific strategies.</p> <p>Setups with Me can range from tearing through <a href="/scp-076">Markable</a> to being fodder for <a href="/scp-ttku-j">U-kill</a> who is completely immune to Ego.</p> <h3 id="toc15"><span>One with All</span></h3> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Camaraderie</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Sense of Self</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Toast Command</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Same Joke</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-1979">Time-Up Treadmill</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Ego</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Hungry</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>252 Atk / 4 SpD / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>The long wait time for Ego to come online is reduced by Time-Up Treadmill to be ready from the start, making anyone that hits Me receive their full damage from the first round instead of having to wait multiple rounds for the damage to add up. Using Camaraderie to prevent switching for the round and Sense of Self to let the enemy only receive the damage without Me having to tank it makes for a decent strategy. Putting foes under the influence of Same Joke is a good way to lock your opponent into defeat. With Me's Attack options not being the best, Toast Command remains the only viable option to make damage not coupled to being attacked.</p> <p>The best use case of Me remains to beat a tough opponent with the hope of ending with a double KO. While its moveset makes it largely Type independent, it still fairs worse against other Dread types on average.</p> <h1 id="toc16"><span>Discussion</span></h1> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-gears" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172464); return false;"><img alt="Dr Gears" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=172464&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=172464)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-gears" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172464); return false;">Dr Gears</a></span> <div> <p>Me should really have been banned ages ago.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;"><img alt="DrClef" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=213153&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=213153)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;">DrClef</a></span> <div> <p>Well, DrClef thinks I should always be part of the Meta.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p>Getting this banned would be nice if only for the same joke accompanying it being stopped.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lordxvnv" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1813809); return false;"><img alt="LORDXVNV" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1813809&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1813809)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lordxvnv" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1813809); return false;">LORDXVNV</a></span> <div> <p>You mean the same joke accompanying Me</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p>See, I can't even ban you for this, because that's literally its name. I hate this.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="527"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0527 Fishhead</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0537 Fishhead</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc17"><span>Fishhead</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>527</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="nature">Nature</span><span class="mortal">Mortal</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Swift Swim</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Wondertainment Junior Cup</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 20">20</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 10">10</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 55">55</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 15">15</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 20">20</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc18"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>There is a specter haunting OpusConfidant. The specter of Fishhead. All the powers of Appolyon have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this specter: <a href="/scp-682">Resistile</a> and <a href="/scp-343">Godhead</a>, <a href="/scp-2337">Spankoflex</a> and <a href="/scp-3309">Smalls</a>, <a href="/scp-3812">Ben</a> and <a href="/twistedgears-kaktus-proposal">MEKHANE</a>.</p> <p>Where is the party in opposition that has not been decried as overpowered by its opponents in power? Where is the opposition that has not hurled back the branding reproach of Fishhead, against the more advanced opposition parties, as well as against its reactionary adversaries?</p> <p>Two things result from this fact:</p> <p>I. Fishhead is already acknowledged by all Appolyon powers to be itself a power.</p> <p>II. It is high time that Fishhead should openly, in the face of the whole world, establish its strength, its OHKO potential, its sweeping potential, and meet this nursery tale of the Spectre of Fishhead with a manifesto of the Fishhead itself.</p> <p>To this end, Fishhead users of various nationalities have assembled on OpusConfidant forums and sketched the following manifesto, to be published in the monthly newsletter.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc19"><span>Fishhead Godhead 4head</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Splash</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Flail</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Product Placement</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-4514">TTTKY</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Swift Swim</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Surly</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>36 HP/ 196 Atk / 76 Def / 196 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>With this set, Fishhead will be able to outspeed 90% of the Wondertainment Junior Cup metagame and Splash all over them. You will be able to mercilessly show off just how much of a rebel you are for using this absolutely useless SCP. And hey, if they don't OHKO you, you always have TTTKY to finish the job for them.</p> <p>Sadly, this set doesn't see much competitive play.</p> <hr/> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;"><img alt="djkaktus" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1888434&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1888434)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;">djkaktus</a></span> <div> <p>the people's champ is finally here</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;"><img alt="kinchtheknifeblade" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1345012&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1345012)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;">kinchtheknifeblade</a></span> <div> <p>loved the write up</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;"><img alt="kinchtheknifeblade" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1345012&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1345012)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;">kinchtheknifeblade</a></span> <div> <p>loved the write up</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;"><img alt="kinchtheknifeblade" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1345012&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1345012)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;">kinchtheknifeblade</a></span> <div> <p>fuck meant to reply to the op</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;"><img alt="kinchtheknifeblade" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1345012&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1345012)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kinchtheknifeblade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1345012); return false;">kinchtheknifeblade</a></span> <div> <p>fuck im so high lol</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc20"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="789-J"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0789-J Asshaunter</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#0789-J Asshaunter</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc21"><span>Asshaunter</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>789-J</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="dread">Dread</span><span class="humor">Humor</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Stench</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Wondertainment Junior Cup</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 30">30</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 35">35</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 30">30</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 95">95</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 45">45</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 90">90</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc22"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>Asshaunter has been a Wondertainment Junior Cup staple ever since its inception in Series I. Though it doesn't have the best defensive profile, (But then again, what Dread-type SCP does?) it has decent move coverage and good enough Sp. Attack and Speed to make it a commonly used SCP in the lower power level it finds itself in. Ideally, Asshaunter wants to get in before its opponent sets up entry hazards since it lacks the means by which to get rid of them and suffers greatly because of them. Of course, you can choose to equip yours with a healing item, but this goes against its glass cannon nature and causes you to lose significant firepower.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc23"><span>Revenge Killer/Sweeper</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Spoopy</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Neptune's Kiss</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Haunt</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Hidden Power (Cosmos)</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Life Orb</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Stench</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Timid</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>252 SpA / 4 SpD / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p><a href="javascript:;">Spoopy</a> and <a href="javascript:;">Haunt</a> are powerful STAB moves that are guaranteed to hit hard because of Asshaunter's strong SpA stat. <a href="javascript:;">Neptune's Kiss</a> and <a href="javascript:;">Hidden Power</a> are excellent coverage moves that let this SCP patch up its weaknesses. Despite its measly 30 in HP, Asshaunter makes up for it by having what is arguably the best typing in the game, Dread, and Humor. With this type combination, the SCP is hit for neutral damage on all Humor attacks, is straight-up immune to Dread, and takes half damage from Cosmos and Divine. The only real threat Asshaunter faces is that of Auto types, which are rare in Wondertainment Junior Cup, but even then, you have <a href="javascript:;">Hidden Power (Cosmos)</a> to defend yourself against them.</p> <p>All in all, Asshaunter is a powerful SCP that fits into almost any team and is capable of sweeping or revenge killing assuming the opponent hasn't been given time to set up.</p> <hr/> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/faminepulse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4275444); return false;"><img alt="faminepulse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4275444&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4275444)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/faminepulse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4275444); return false;">faminepulse</a></span> <div> <p>hee hee</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/salman-corbette" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(678987); return false;"><img alt="Salman Corbette" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=678987&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=678987)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/salman-corbette" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(678987); return false;">Salman Corbette</a></span> <div> <p>hee hee</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/a-random-day" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1841781); return false;"><img alt="A Random Day" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1841781&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1841781)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/a-random-day" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1841781); return false;">A Random Day</a></span> <div> <p>Why do people insist on using -J's? They're so fucking stupid and unfunny. Seriously. They also bloat the Humor type for no good reason.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><tt>Masters Division World Championship Winner 2017</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/salman-corbette" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(678987); return false;"><img alt="Salman Corbette" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=678987&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=678987)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/salman-corbette" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(678987); return false;">Salman Corbette</a></span> <div> <p>hee hee</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/faminepulse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4275444); return false;"><img alt="faminepulse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4275444&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4275444)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/faminepulse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4275444); return false;">faminepulse</a></span> <div> <p>hee hee</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc24"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="1465"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#1465 Polyroid</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#1465 Polyroid</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc25"><span>Polyroid</span></h1> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>1465</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="mortal">Mortal</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Aperture Adjust/Quantum Lens</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Keter</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 99">99</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 83">83</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 91">91</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 83">83</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc26"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>One of the most well-known SCPs by casual and competitive alike, Polyroid was released all the way back in Series II and has been considered a staple of many teams ever since. Due to its high speed (especially when reinforced with Photo Finish) and a highly varied movepool Polyroid has found a home in meta teams such as O7 and AAAAAAAAA. Polyroid is also run in more experimental teams alongside SCPs like <a href="/scp-0166">Gothicemme</a> or <a href="/scp-6239">Mega Slumberslack</a> in the Gothic GF and Welcome to Slumberslackland teams, though those are currently considered non-viable. From casual teams to championship rosters Polyroid is run at all levels. No small wonder that many players claim to see this SCP everywhere.</p> <h2 id="toc27"><span>P.O.S.E.</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Optics</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Exposure</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-978">Votum Loci</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Quantum Lens</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Timid</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>12 HP / 244 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>P.O.S.E. is a classic move-set and game plan that has seen little change since its first use in Series II to complete the O7 team (so named because, for a time, if you came up against this team, all you could really do was salute and surrender). The plan is simple: first you set up with the delayed <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a>, hopefully stun your opponent with <a href="javascript:;">Optics</a>, stall them with <a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a> as needed, hit them with <a href="javascript:;">Exposure</a> to do some chip damage, at which point your <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a> should proc. While on its own this is nothing extraordinary P.O.S.E. really shone in the O7 team setting, especially with the use of <a href="/scp-515-arc">Fluttershy Lens</a>. This now banned item both upped the chance of getting a stun off on <a href="javascript:;">Optics</a> from 25% to 75% <em>and</em> increased move speed, making what would otherwise have been a decent moveset into an unstoppable juggernaut, especially when paired with <a href="/scp-073">Markaine</a>'s weedkiller moveset.</p> <p>With the banning of Fluttershy Lens necessitating its replacement with the far inferior <a href="/scp-978">Votum Loci</a> (much worse stun chance, no damage increase) and the power creep of later series, many have dropped this style of Polyroid in favour of more recent SCP such as <a href="/scp-5595">Gumballbuster</a> or <a href="/scp-4051">Whirlpool</a>.</p> <p>Some pros do still run Polyroid, though among those P.O.S.E. has somewhat fallen out of favor to be replaced by Caught in 1465K. However, many low-level players tend to run cookie-cutter O7 rosters so it's good to know the strat so as to easily counter it.</p> <h2 id="toc28"><span>Caught in 1465K</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Five Pixel Flurry</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Aperture Adjust</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Brave</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>As opposed to P.O.S.E., and most other prior Polyroid builds, Caught in 1465K focuses on attack and accuracy rather than speed and support. Pioneered by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;"><img alt="thedeadlymoose" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=732274&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=732274)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;">thedeadlymoose</a></span> as part of the AAAAAAAAA line-up in Series II this saw little, but consistent, meta usage until its surprising resurgence in the 2020 Massachusetts Renaissance Faire Invitational. This invitational saw multiple high-level variations of the AAAAAAAAA roster including copies of <a href="/scp-5601">Caged Demonbird</a> and <a href="/scp-4051">Whirlpool</a>. It also saw some wild variation of the classic P.O.S.E. moveset such as teching in <a href="/scp-096">Shyssasin's</a> signature move <a href="javascript:;">Five Pixel Flurry</a>, something not seen on the competitive level since <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-dan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(453417); return false;"><img alt="Dr Dan" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=453417&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=453417)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-dan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(453417); return false;">Dr Dan</a></span> all the way back in 2010.</p> <p>While an attack focused Shutterbug may seem obvious now, at the time <a href="javascript:;">Five Pixel Flurry</a> wasn't even considered due to <a href="/scp-096">Shyssasin's</a> glass canon nature (due to several much needed nerfs) causing this SCP to be dead competitively, and there just wasn't enough support for the build (niche Delta Polyroid build aside) until the Series VII introduction of the <a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a> item and <a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a> move pairing. <a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a> causes Polyroid to be much of a tanky SCP akin to <a href="/scp-7053">Sheller</a> with much slower speed, which is somewhat counter-intuitive for a relatively speedy character, but shows its worth by heavily reinforcing slow to build powerhouse moves like <a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a> and <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a> as well as potentially upping <a href="javascript:;">Five Pixel Flurry</a> to insta-kill range against mediocre defense stated SCPs.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc29"><span>Discussion</span></h2> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/voiiiii" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6870038); return false;"><img alt="Voiiiii" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6870038&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6870038)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/voiiiii" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6870038); return false;">Voiiiii</a></span> <div> <p>AAAAAAAAA is my favorite team to run :))</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uraniumempire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1613974); return false;"><img alt="UraniumEmpire" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1613974&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1613974)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uraniumempire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1613974); return false;">UraniumEmpire</a></span> <div> <p>I think the pairing of <a href="/scp-1465">Polyroid</a> with <a href="/scp-0166">Gothicemme</a> is severely underrated, especially against threats like <a href="/scp-3043">Lawbringer</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;"><img alt="Fishish" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6066968&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6066968)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;">Fishish</a></span> <div> <p>Definitely! Especially since its typing rework from Divine to Meta gives Gothicemme <a href="/scp-6938">Skiphorse</a> synergy.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;"><img alt="Kothardarastrix" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3460794&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3460794)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;">Kothardarastrix</a></span> <div> <p>In what world do you run P.O.S.E. over Caught in 1465K ?! I mean seriously how is this even up for debate?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span> <div> <p>PlaguePJP</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/grigori-karpin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4558017); return false;"><img alt="Grigori Karpin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4558017&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4558017)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/grigori-karpin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4558017); return false;">Grigori Karpin</a></span> <div> <p>Good bit of lowkey synergy potential, integrated reasonably well with the O7 and AAAAAAAAA stuff. I'd expected to see that Photo Finish was added in a much later build, and was surprised to see it in the first version of the SCP to see competitive use. A cool SCP with a clever ability, a reasonably interesting movepool and obviously very competitive, well-crafted. Subjective rating: 7.5/10.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><tt>Host of Simply Competitive People</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p>Wish I saw more fresh uses for Polyroid discovered. It's an alright SCP but it could use some new builds or it risks getting stale.</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc30"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="2337"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#2337 Spankoflex</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#2337 Spankoflex</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc31"><span>Spankoflex</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>2337</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="humor">Humor</span><span class="nature">Nature</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Prankster/Soundproof</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Keter</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 75">75</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 91">91</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 87">87</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 75">75</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc32"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>Looking at Spankoflex's stats alone one might think it's a mediocre SCP and not worthy of belonging on many popular teams in the Keter tier. However, once its moveset and ability are taken into account, Spankoflex's true power shines through. Thanks to the power of <a href="javascript:;">Prankster</a>, it has priority access to its vast gallery of support moves. Moreover, it also has access to Boomburst, one of the most powerful moves in the game, on which it also gets STAB. Ever since its premiere in Series III, Spankoflex has been terrorizing OpusConfidant matches with its antics and frustrating those who underestimate it.</p> <p>However, Spankoflex is not without its counters. Other Humor types nullify its <a href="javascript:;">Prankster</a> ability, rendering it unable to lay its tricky traps and forcing it to rely on its offensive prowess, which it is severely lacking in.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc33"><span>Trickster Support</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Cack</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Swap Blast</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Swiftfoot Scramble</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Boomburst</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-714">Jade Ring</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Prankster</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Curious</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>248 HP / 252 SpD / 8 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>The <a href="/scp-714">Jade Ring</a> feels like it was absolutely made with SCPs like Spankoflex in mind, as it allows it to transfer the Sleep status effect effectively and without issue. Once you've got an enemy locked into Sleep, you can easily spread entry hazards with <a href="javascript:;">Swiftfoot Scramble</a>. If your opponent swapped in an SCP that would be crippled by your newly held Item pilfered through <a href="javascript:;">Swap Blast</a>, you can gift it to them. And if for some reason your opponent is a Sleeptalker (who does that in Keter nowadays anyway?), you can easily inflict chip damage and Confuse them with <a href="javascript:;">Cack</a>. If you are faced with a Humor-type opponent or are otherwise unable to cause chaos, you will be forced to use Boomburst. Though your attacking stats are not strong, <a href="javascript:;">Boomburst</a> has a staggering 140 Power, and you will probably be able to put a good dent in its health unless it's a Mineral type.</p> <h2 id="toc34"><span>Cack Cannon</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Cack</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="/cack-hard">Cack Hard</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Gacklegrapes</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Boomburst</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="http://lafundacionscp.wikidot.com/scp-es-002">Loud Speaker</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Soundproof</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Spurious</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>Though Spankoflex is not the toughest of cookies, it can definitely break some walls thanks to access to STAB <a href="javascript:;">Boomburst</a> further empowered by the <a href="http://lafundacionscp.wikidot.com/scp-es-002">Loud Speaker</a> item. It can even 1HKO a <a href="/scp-682">Resistile</a> that isn't invested into Special Defense. Though <a href="javascript:;">Cack</a> and <a href="javascript:;">Cack Hard</a> are decent moves on their own, the star of the show here is <a href="javascript:;">Boomburst</a>, which you should ideally be spamming if you intend on using Spankoflex as a wallbreaker. If you're ever in a situation where <a href="javascript:;">Boomburst</a> cannot help you (or you've run out of PP), the most you can do is fall back on <a href="javascript:;">Cack</a> and hope your opponent deals damage to themselves in confusion while you swap out to another SCP and wonder why didn't go with its Trickster Support build instead.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc35"><span>Discussion</span></h2> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;"><img alt="daveyoufool" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2034230&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2034230)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;">daveyoufool</a></span> <div> <p>I really never expected Spankoflex to come so far. I remember being one of its first users way back in Series III when no one wanted to give the silly bird a chance. And now look at it!</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p>Honestly, I remember thinking you were on to something even back then. I just couldn't break away from my Thaumiel-loving tendencies.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/a-random-day" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1841781); return false;"><img alt="A Random Day" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1841781&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1841781)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/a-random-day" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1841781); return false;">A Random Day</a></span> <div> <p>i hate this fucking idiot bird.</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc36"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="3002"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#3002 Rolypolaroid</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#3002 Rolypolaroid</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc37"><span>Rolypolaroid</span></h1> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>3002</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="dread">Dread</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Bodies in the Water/Mask-mender</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Keter</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 99">99</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 83">83</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 91">91</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 83">83</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc38"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>One of the most well-known SCPs by casual and competitive alike, Rolypolaroid was released back in Series IV and has been considered a staple of many teams ever since. Due to its high speed (especially when reinforced with Photo Finish) and a highly varied movepool Rolypolaroid has found a home in meta teams such as O7 and AAAAAAAAA. Rolypolaroid is also run in more experimental teams alongside SCPs like <a href="/scp-4166">Demager</a> (even despite its nerf) or <a class="newpage" href="/siggy-and-robomonkey">Spellwiggler</a> in the Wasted Youth and Sweet Memes are Made of These teams, though those are currently considered non-viable. From casual teams to championship rosters Rolypolaroid is run at all levels. No small wonder that many players remember seeing this SCP everywhere.</p> <h2 id="toc39"><span>P.O.S.E.</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Optics</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Exposure</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-978">Votum Loci</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Mask-mender</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Timid</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>12 HP / 244 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>P.O.S.E. is a classic move-set and game plan that has seen little change since its first use in Series IV to complete the Project Lethe team (though few remember this due to its limited use). The plan is simple: first you set up with the delayed <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a>, hopefully stun your opponent with <a href="javascript:;">Optics</a>, stall them with <a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a> as needed, hit them with <a href="javascript:;">Exposure</a> to do some chip damage, at which point your <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a> should proc. While on its own this is nothing extraordinary P.O.S.E. really shined in the O7 team setting, especially with the use of <a href="/scp-515-arc">Fluttershy Lens</a>. This now banned item both upped the chance of getting a stun off on <a href="javascript:;">Optics</a> from 25% to 75% <em>and</em> increased move speed, making what would otherwise have been a decent moveset into a terrifiying force of nature, especially when paired with <a href="/scp-5000">Y5K</a>'s stage effect.</p> <p>With the banning of Fluttershy Lens necessitating its replacement with the far inferior <a href="/scp-978">Votum Loci</a> (much worse stun chance, no damage increase) and the power creep of later series, many have dropped this style of Rolypolaroid in favor of more recent SCP such as <a href="/scp-6597">Whalerlord</a> or <a href="/scp-4051">Whirlpool</a>.</p> <p>Some pros do still run Rolypolaroid, however, among those P.O.S.E. has somewhat fallen out of favor to be replaced by Caught in 3002K. However, many low-level players tend to run cookie-cutter Lethe rosters so it's good to know the strat so as to easily counter it.</p> <h2 id="toc40"><span>Caught in 3002K</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Shutter</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Threeve Pixel Flurry</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Bodies in the Water</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Brave</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>As opposed to P.O.S.E., and most other prior Rolypolaroid builds, Caught in 3002K focuses on attack and accuracy rather than speed and support. Pioneered by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;"><img alt="thedeadlymoose" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=732274&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=732274)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;">thedeadlymoose</a></span> as part of the AAAAAAAAA line-up in Series II this saw little, but consistent, meta usage until its surprising resurgence in the 2020 Southern Indiana Renaissance Faire Invitational. This invitational saw multiple high-level variations of the AAAAAAAAA roster including copies of <a href="/scp-2408">Dark Hunter</a> and <a href="/scp-4051">Whirlpool</a>. It also saw some wild variation of the classic P.O.S.E. moveset such as teching in <a href="/scp-096">Shyssasin's</a> signature move <a href="javascript:;">Threeve Pixel Flurry</a>, something not seen on the competitive level since <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-dan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(453417); return false;"><img alt="Dr Dan" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=453417&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=453417)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-dan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(453417); return false;">Dr Dan</a></span> all the way back in 2010.</p> <p>While an attack focused Rolypolaroid may seem obvious now, at the time <a href="javascript:;">Threeve Pixel Flurry</a> wasn't even considered due to <a href="/scp-096">Shyssasin's</a> glass canon nature (due to several much needed nerfs) causing this SCP to be dead competitively, and there just wasn't enough support for the build (niche Delta Rolypolaroid build aside) until the Series VII introduction of the <a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a> item and <a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a> move pairing. <a href="/scp-6980">Satellite CameraPhone</a> causes Rolypolaroid to be much of a tanky SCP akin to <a href="/scp-7053">Sheller</a> with much slower speed, which is somewhat counter-intuitive for a relatively speedy character, but shows its worth by heavily reinforcing slow to build powerhouse moves like <a href="javascript:;">Remote Punching</a> and <a href="javascript:;">Photo Finish</a> as well as potentially upping <a href="javascript:;">Threeve Pixel Flurry</a> to insta-kill range against mediocre defense stated SCPs.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc41"><span>Discussion</span></h2> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/voiiiii" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6870038); return false;"><img alt="Voiiiii" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6870038&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6870038)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/voiiiii" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6870038); return false;">Voiiiii</a></span> <div> <p>AAAAAAAAA is my favorite team to run :))</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dolphinslugchugger" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1969477); return false;"><img alt="DolphinSlugchugger" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1969477&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1969477)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dolphinslugchugger" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1969477); return false;">DolphinSlugchugger</a></span> <div> <p>I think the pairing of <a href="/scp-3002">Rolypolaroid</a> with <a href="/scp-4166">Demager</a> is severely underrated, especially against threats like <a href="/scp-055">Orbhorse</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/decibelles" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2005044); return false;"><img alt="Decibelles" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2005044&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2005044)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/decibelles" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2005044); return false;">Decibelles</a></span> <div> <p>100% Especially since its Divine typing gives Demager <a href="/scp-475">Soapopo</a> synergy.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;"><img alt="Kothardarastrix" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3460794&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3460794)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;">Kothardarastrix</a></span> <div> <p>In what world do you run Rolypolaroid?! I mean seriously how is this even up for debate?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span> <div> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">Good bit of lowkey synergy potential, integrated reasonably well with the O7 and AAAAAAAAA stuff. I'd expected to see that Photo Finish was added in a much later build, and was surprised to see it in the first version of the SCP to see competitive use. A cool SCP with a clever ability, a reasonably interesting movepool and obviously very competitive, well-crafted. Subjective rating: 7.5/10.</span></p> <p>PlaguePJP</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><tt>Host of Simply Competitive People</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p>Such an overused SCP that I'm completely sick of seeing. Hope it gets banned</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lily-veselka" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8538744); return false;"><img alt="Lily Veselka" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8538744&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8538744)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lily-veselka" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8538744); return false;">Lily Veselka</a></span> <div> <p>meta deez nuts</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc42"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <p><a name="4380"></a></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#4380 Primus</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;"> #1 FIRSTFIRSTFIR</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc43"><span>FIRSTFIRSTFIRSTFIR</span></h1> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>1</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="auto">Prime</span><span class="divine">Divine</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Top Breaker</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Semel</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 1000">1</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 1000">1</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 1000">1</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 1000">1</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 1000">1</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 1000">1</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <h3 id="toc44"><span>Overview</span></h3> <p>Primus is literally the most powerful thing ever you can't compare it to any other thing. I'm sorry but that's just how it is. If you look at the stats its all one, because it is the One. It is the Prime, the first, the foremost, the highest, greatest, leading, head, ruling, chief, supreme, principal, paramount, president, overriding, god, pre-eminent and the foremost. Primus is just too strong for all of you.</p> <h3 id="toc45"><span>Limitless</span></h3> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Number-one</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Foremost</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Utmost</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Another synonym of first</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/mcdoctorate-s-proposal\|">McDoctorate</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Actually 001</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Greed</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>1 Atk / 1 SpD / 1 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/mcdoctorate-s-proposal\|">McDoctorate</a> is basically the same thing as primus, but better. As in, both have technically infinite power. And you know what maths says: infinity + infinity = EVEN MORE POWER!!</p> <h1 id="toc46"><span>Discussion</span></h1> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moto42" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(175861); return false;"><img alt="Moto42" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=175861&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=175861)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moto42" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(175861); return false;">Moto42</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;"><img alt="DrClef" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=213153&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=213153)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;">DrClef</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-gears" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172464); return false;"><img alt="Dr Gears" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=172464&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=172464)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-gears" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172464); return false;">Dr Gears</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-masipag" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172570); return false;"><img alt="Lt Masipag" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=172570&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=172570)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-masipag" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(172570); return false;">Lt Masipag</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;"><img alt="djkaktus" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1888434&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1888434)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;">djkaktus</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jack-waltz" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7989351); return false;"><img alt="Jack Waltz" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7989351&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7989351)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jack-waltz" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7989351); return false;">Jack Waltz</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;"><img alt="Fishish" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6066968&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6066968)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;">Fishish</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/calibold" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5045819); return false;"><img alt="Calibold" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5045819&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5045819)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/calibold" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5045819); return false;">Calibold</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/j-dune" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6682213); return false;"><img alt="J Dune" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6682213&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6682213)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/j-dune" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6682213); return false;">J Dune</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rakkran" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8307912); return false;"><img alt="Rakkran" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8307912&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8307912)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rakkran" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8307912); return false;">Rakkran</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/yossipossi" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2199269); return false;"><img alt="Yossipossi" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2199269&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2199269)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/yossipossi" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2199269); return false;">Yossipossi</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/placeholder-mcd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6536693); return false;"><img alt="Placeholder McD" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6536693&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6536693)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/placeholder-mcd" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6536693); return false;">Placeholder McD</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;"><img alt="djkaktus" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1888434&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1888434)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;">djkaktus</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;"><img alt="basirskipreader" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6657366&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6657366)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;">basirskipreader</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ralliston" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5986843); return false;"><img alt="Ralliston" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5986843&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5986843)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ralliston" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5986843); return false;">Ralliston</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;"><img alt="stormbreath" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3075960&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3075960)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;">stormbreath</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gee0765" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5376871); return false;"><img alt="gee0765" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5376871&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5376871)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gee0765" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5376871); return false;">gee0765</a></span> <div> <p>Meta deez nuts</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;"><img alt="Tufto" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3337265&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3337265)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;">Tufto</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/henzoid" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5190300); return false;"><img alt="Henzoid" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5190300&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5190300)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/henzoid" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5190300); return false;">Henzoid</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/crow-cat" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3952131); return false;"><img alt="Crow-Cat" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3952131&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3952131)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/crow-cat" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3952131); return false;">Crow-Cat</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fish-12" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7495715); return false;"><img alt="Fish^12" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7495715&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7495715)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fish-12" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7495715); return false;">Fish^12</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/first" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(64438); return false;"><img alt="first" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=64438&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=64438)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/first" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(64438); return false;">first</a></span> <div> <p>Second</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guezma" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7101820); return false;"><img alt="Guezma" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7101820&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7101820)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guezma" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7101820); return false;">Guezma</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;"><img alt="Guaire" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5643605&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5643605)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;">Guaire</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hogslice" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7545854); return false;"><img alt="HOGSLICE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7545854&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7545854)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hogslice" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7545854); return false;">HOGSLICE</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prime-girl" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4748297); return false;"><img alt="Prime Girl" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4748297&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4748297)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prime-girl" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4748297); return false;">Prime Girl</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="error-inline"><em>Dr peanut 05</em> does not match any existing user name</span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/faminepulse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4275444); return false;"><img alt="faminepulse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4275444&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4275444)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/faminepulse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4275444); return false;">faminepulse</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/a-random-day" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1841781); return false;"><img alt="A Random Day" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1841781&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1841781)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/a-random-day" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1841781); return false;">A Random Day</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/liryn" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6254643); return false;"><img alt="Liryn" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6254643&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6254643)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/liryn" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6254643); return false;">Liryn</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;"><img alt="daveyoufool" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2034230&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2034230)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;">daveyoufool</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;"><img alt="thedeadlymoose" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=732274&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=732274)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thedeadlymoose" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(732274); return false;">thedeadlymoose</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zyn" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1404533); return false;"><img alt="Zyn" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1404533&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1404533)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zyn" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1404533); return false;">Zyn</a></span> <div> <p>First</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply6"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/felixou" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7118294); return false;"><img alt="Felixou" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7118294&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7118294)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/felixou" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7118294); return false;">Felixou</a></span> <div> <p>FUCK ALL OF YOU YOU WON'T GET MEEEEEEEEEEE</p> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Due to Felixou being the shitposter behind this, replacing the #4380 slot and somehow hacking all profiles of the Site to post a single comment, the ban passes.</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc47"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <a name="5514"></a> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#5514 Dragonslayer</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#5514 Dragonslayer</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc48"><span>Dragonslayer</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>5514</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="auto">Auto</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Clear Body</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Thaumiel</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 105">105</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 150">150</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 100">100</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 120">120</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 100">100</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc49"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>Dragonslayer is one of the premier offensive threats in Thaumiel, with its whopping attacking powers, decent speed, and access to <a href="javascript:;">Dragon Dance</a> to further boost these stats. There is very little that can stand in the way of a Dragonslayer who has set up even two <a href="javascript:;">Dragon Dance</a>s. One of the few things that can actually prove a roadblock to Dragonslayer is a Defense-invested <a href="/scp-682">Resistile</a>, but then again, what can't that fat lizard wall? One SCP to look out for is <a href="/scp-179">Estrellite</a>, as its access to <a href="javascript:;">Solar Flare</a> can melt through Dragonslayer's pure Auto typing, and its Cosmos typing makes it difficult to take out.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc50"><span>Large-Scale Aggressor Overrun</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Beowulf-Sigurd Rail</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Cold Iron Sword</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Thousand Word Arrows</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Dragon Dance</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-037">Dwarf Star</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Clear Body</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Naughty</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>252 Atk / 4 Def / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>Now, you might be wondering, "Where is Dragonslayer's signature move? I want my <a href="javascript:;">Emergency Sun Vent</a>!" Well, dear reader, need I remind you that utilizing this move reduces all of Dragonslayer's stats by two stages AND renders it immobile for one round? Sure, that 400 Base Power move may seem appetizing but let me assure you that becoming a sitting duck for a turn and having your stats lowered all for the sake of nuking one SCP is not always worth it. It is far easier to just set up with <a href="javascript:;">Dragon Dance</a> and take out your opponent with your <a href="javascript:;">Beowulf-Sigurd Rail</a> or <a href="javascript:;">Thousand Word Arrows</a>.</p> <hr/> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;"><img alt="stormbreath" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3075960&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3075960)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;">stormbreath</a></span> <div> <p>I think OP is lazy for not not even trying to implement the move <a href="javascript:;">Emergency Sun Vent</a> into a competitive aspect. It can totally work.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3656445); return false;"><img alt="Ellie3" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3656445&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3656445)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3656445); return false;">Ellie3</a></span> <div> <p>i think this commenter is lazy for not even trying to kill themselves. it can totally work.</p> <p><span style="color: red"><tt>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST.</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3656445); return false;"><img alt="Ellie3" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3656445&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3656445)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3656445); return false;">Ellie3</a></span> <div> <p>*care for themselves 😊😊😊😊</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;"><img alt="stormbreath" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3075960&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3075960)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;">stormbreath</a></span> <div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>Gets criticized once</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>"kys"</span></p> <p>Real mature.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p><span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3656445); return false;">Ellie3</a></span> has been banned for constant inflammatory statements.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8534048); return false;"><img alt="Ellie4" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8534048&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545512" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8534048)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ellie4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8534048); return false;">Ellie4</a></span> <div> <p>What an unfunny "joke." I hope they change and grow as a person.</p> </div> </div> <h1 id="toc51"></h1> </div> </div> </div> <p><a name="6048"></a></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#6048 Solamotha</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">#6048 Solamotha</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc52"><span>Solamotha</span></h1> <hr/> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>6048</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="solar">Solar</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Drought/Radiant Light</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Keter</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 100">100</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 160">160</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 70">70</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 105">105</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc53"><span>Overview</span></h2> <p>Solamotha made for a unique addition back when it was released in Series VII and has held its grounding since. Bolstering a massive special attack and not-shabby speed, Solamotha could wipe several premiere threats from the field in the blink of an eye. However it's limited movepool, lack of coverage options and frail defenses combined with a defensively weak typing relegates Solamotha to serving as a glass-cannon in most teams its included in.</p> <h2 id="toc54"><span>Hey, Hollow Knight Reference!</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Blinding Light</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Leaf Munch</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Quiver Dance</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Fiery Air</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Cocoon Casings</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Radiant Light</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Modest</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>HHKR was one of the first sets conceived for Solamotha and, lucky for the big moth, it has stuck since! Focusing on doling out damage above all else, this set can OHKO anything that doesn't resist Solamotha's STABs. Setting up a <a href="javascript:;">Quiver Dance</a> on top of Solamotha's already ginormous stats makes it nearly unstoppable. But that's exactly the issue; getting up a Quiver Dance in the first place. The <a href="javascript:;">Solar</a> type means Solamotha takes super effective damage to entry hazards and it's weak defenses means it can't come in whenever it wants. You need to guarantee a safe switch for Solamotha for it to be able to do its work.</p> <p>The <a href="javascript:;">Cocoon Casings</a> allows Solamotha to take one super effective hit without immediately fainting, letting it possibly knock out one more opponent. If survivability isn't your gig, a <a href="javascript:;">Fire Gem</a> allows you to pack in ginormous damage to the first <a href="javascript:;">Fiery Air</a> you launch. Nothing, not even resists, can survive that.</p> <h2 id="toc55"><span>Humid Weather</span></h2> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Caterpillar Dreams</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Solar Beam</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Cognition Shift</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Blinding Light</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Cocoon Casings</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Drought</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Bold</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>196 HP / 60 Def / 252 SpA</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>Humid Weather is a far more defensive approach to running Solamotha. Though its frailness still necessitates the use of <a href="javascript:;">Cocoon Casings</a>, this set allows Solamotha to take more hits on the field. <a href="javascript:;">Caterpillar Dreams</a> serves as invaluable recovery for the moth, restoring 25% of its max health and setting a <a href="javascript:;">Cognito Field</a> on the battleground, eliminating the threat of priority moves for its entire team.</p> <p><a href="javascript:;">Cognito-Shift</a> is one of few coverage moves Solamotha has and it takes full advantage of it in this set. A Cognito Field boosted Cognition Shift does hefty damage to opponents that resist Solamotha's STABs.</p> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight">OpusConfidant April 1st 2023 Spotlight</a>" by Prime Girl, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. 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text-decoration: none;} [[/module]] [[div class="box alertbar"]] Warning: The OpusConfidant battlebase is [[div class="classified"]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/about-the-scp-foundation COMPETITIVE] [[/div]] ~~~~~ Up-and-coming match-ups will be tracked, located, and unleashed. [[/div]] [[=]] [[div class="blockquote large"]] [[=]] [[size larger]]WELCOME TO OPUSCONFIDANT! [[/size]] //The community-driven SCP encyclopedia// Greetings! OpusConfidant is the largest SCP Foundation community specialising in competitive analysis and battling, as well as a concise and dynamic repository of all things SCP to which anyone can contribute. Feel free to browse the constantly updating SCP database for info on your favourite anomalies, or create an account to edit pages and discuss techniques and strategies with fellow battlers! We currently have 17,463 articles on a wide range of SCP-related topics. Come and learn! [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/=]] [[div class="content-grid"]] [[div class="content-box opus"]] [[div class="content-type-title"]] Tier Listing Updates! [[/div]] [[div class="content-type-description"]] [[=image http://smlt.wdfiles.com/local--files/collab:cassandra-prime:foolio-actual/opconf-b.png style="width:10%;" link=#]] The Tier List Update for March is available! Come see which SCPs saw surges in viability and which plummeted to a lower tier [[[/news-03-2023\|here!]]] ----- The Tier List Update for February is available! Come see which SCPs saw surges in viability and which plummeted to a lower tier [[[/news-02-2023\|here!]]] [[/div]] [[div class="content-type-footer"]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:front-page-artist-showcase">:scp-wiki:fragment:front-page-artist-showcase</a> \|artblurb=HarryBlank, Fantem, syuzhet [!-- SLIDESHOW IMAGE URLS. IF IT'S ONLY ONE IMAGE STICK IT IN ALL THREE--] \|art1url=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/estrellayoshte/profever.png \|art2url=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/estrellayoshte/type.png \|art3url=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/estrellayoshte/battle.png ]] [[/div]] [[div class="content-box opus"]] [[div class="content-type-title"]] FEATURED SCPs [[/div]] [[div_ class="content-type-description gr"]] [#105 #0105: Shutterbug] [#173 #0173: Motonut] [#426 #0426: Me] [#527 #0527: Fishhead] [[[resistile-decomm-attempt\| #0682: Resistile]]] [#789-J #0789-J: Asshaunter] [#1465 #1465: Polyoid] [#2337 #2337: Spankoflex] [#3002 #3002: Rolypolaroid] --#4380: Primus-- [#4380 #1: FIRSTFIRSTFIR] [[[threatini\| #4645: Threatini]]] [#5514 #5514: Dragonslayer] [#6048 #6048: Salomotha] [[/div]] [[div class="content-type-footer"]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ------ [[div class="INT-box"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight/opconf-b.png]] [[div class="INT-content"]] ++++ Compete for the International Championship! + [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/ OPUS International] Check out our guides in different languages, as well as various local and national tournaments across the world. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[module CSS]] .INT-box { display: flex; justify-content: center; align-items: center; grid-gap: 0.325rem 0.625rem; flex-wrap: wrap; box-sizing: border-box; background-color: #fff; margin: 0.75rem 0; padding: 1.25rem 1.875rem 1.875rem; border-radius: 1.5rem; border: solid 0.275rem #000; box-shadow: inset 0 0 0 0.175rem #fff, inset 0 0 0 0.675rem #4b92db; } .INT-box > img { width: 12rem; } .INT-box h1 { margin: 0.125rem 0 0.325rem; } .INT-box > a { flex-basis: calc(27.5% + 1rem + 1vw); max-width: 12.25rem; min-width: min(100%, 10rem); padding: 0 0.5rem; } .INT-box > .INT-content { flex-grow: 1; flex-basis: 14rem; text-align: center; } @supports (text-align-last: center) { .INT-box > .INT-content p { text-align: justify; text-align-last: center; } } .INT-box > .collapsible-block { flex-basis: 100%; --col-link-size: min(calc(0.325rem + 1vw), 0.825rem); --col-border-width: 0.1rem; } .INT-box > .collapsible-block .collapsible-block-link { width: max-content; max-width: 75%; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: var(--col-link-size); margin: 0 auto; display: block; color: #4b92db; background-color: #fff; padding: 0 0.325em; z-index: 1; } .INT-box > .collapsible-block .collapsible-block-folded {position: relative; z-index: 1;} .INT-box > .collapsible-block .collapsible-block-folded:not([style="none"])::before { content: ""; display: block; position: absolute; left: 0; bottom: calc(var(--col-link-size)0.5 - var(--col-border-width)); width: 100%; height: var(--col-border-width); background-color: #4b92db; z-index: -1; } .INT-box > .collapsible-block .collapsible-block-unfolded {margin: 0;} .INT-box > .collapsible-block .collapsible-block-unfolded-link { position: relative; z-index: 1; } .INT-box > .collapsible-block .collapsible-block-content { border: var(--col-border-width) solid #4b92db; border-radius: 0.375rem; position: relative; z-index: 0; margin-top: calc(var(--col-link-size)-0.5); padding: 0.875rem 0.325rem 0.125rem; } .c_international-body { display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; } .c_international-box { font-size: 96.5%; } .c_international-box { text-align: center; flex-basis: 8.5rem; flex-grow: 1; } .c_international-box a img { width: 6.75rem; } .c_international-text p { margin: 0 0 1.25em; } @media (max-width: 580px) { .c_international-box { flex-basis: 6.5rem; } .c_international-box a img { width: 4.5rem; } } .INT-box > a > img { filter: invert(.5) sepia(1) hue-rotate(160deg) saturate(2.5); } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wl-front-page-box">:scp-wiki:fragment:wl-front-page-box</a> \|css=--]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:wl-front-page-box">:scp-wiki:fragment:wl-front-page-box</a> \|div=--] \|URL=https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/ \|URL-Title=Wanderers' Library \|img-URL=https://wanderers-library.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%3Atheme/wl_logo.png \|top-h4=Official Sponsor \|top-h2=The Wretched Luncheon \|text=Hungry? Why not order some Docent de leche from our partner restaurant site, the Wretched Luncheon? ]] [[module css]] .library { background: #4C0800; } .library>div.wl-image { background-image: url(https://smlt.wdfiles.com/local--files/collab:cassandra-prime:foolio-actual/wretched-luncheon-small-v2.png); background-size: contain; background-position: center; background-repeat: no-repeat; } .library>div.wl-image img { opacity: 0; } .library>div.wl-text { text-transform: uppercase; font-family: 'zuijinregular', serif; } [[/module]] [[div style="filter: invert(1); max-width: 16rem; margin: 0 auto;"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/opusconfidant/opconf.png]] [[/div]] [[size 110%]]Greetings![[/size]] The following collapsibles contain edits of SCP articles meant to reflect the SCP wiki's 2023 April Fool's event, OpusConfidant; a competitive battling spin on the wiki's various articles. [[/=]] ------ [[# 105]] [[collapsible show="#0105 Shutterbug" hide="#0105 Shutterbug"]] + Shutterbug [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-105/2014-07-18%2022.41.47-new.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|105\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="Mortal"]]Mortal[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Still Frame/Focusing Lens]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Keter]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 99"]]99[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 83"]]83[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 91"]]91[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 83"]]83[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview One of the most well-known SCPs by casual and competitive alike, Shutterbug was released all the way back in Series I and has been considered a staple of many teams ever since. Due to its high speed (especially when reinforced with Photo Finish) and a highly varied movepool Shutterbug has found a home in meta teams such as O7 and AAAAAAAAA. Shutterbug is also run in more experimental teams alongside SCPs like [[[scp-166\| Teenature]]] or [[[scp-239\|Slumberslack]]] in the Merry Picmas and Slumberslack's Nightmare teams, though those are currently considered non-viable. From casual teams to championship rosters Shutterbug is run at all levels. No small wonder that many players claim to see this SCP everywhere. ++ P.O.S.E. [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Photo Finish]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Optics]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Shutter]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Exposure]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-978\|Votum Loci]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Still Frame]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Timid\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 12 HP / 244 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] P.O.S.E. is a classic move-set and game plan that has seen little change since its first use in Series I to complete the O7 team (so named because, for a time, if you came up against this team, all you could really do was salute and surrender). The plan is simple: first you set up with the delayed [# Photo Finish], hopefully stun your opponent with [# Optics], stall them with [# Shutter] as needed, hit them with [# Exposure] to do some chip damage, at which point your [# Photo Finish] should proc. While on its own this is nothing extraordinary P.O.S.E. really shined in the O7 team setting, especially with the use of [[[scp-515-ARC\|Fluttershy Lens]]]. This now banned item both upped the chance of getting a stun off on [# Optics] from 25% to 75% //and// increased move speed, making what would otherwise have been a decent moveset into an unstoppable juggernaut, especially when paired with [[[scp-076\| Markable]]]'s Unchainable BERSERK moveset. With the banning of Fluttershy Lens necessitating its replacement with the far inferior [[[scp-978\|Votum Loci]]] (much worse stun chance, no damage increase) and the power creep of later series, many have dropped this style of Shutterbug in favor of more recent SCP such as [[[scp-5175\|Ken-Shinigami]]] or [[[scp-4051\|Whirlpool]]]. Some pros do still run Shutterbug, however, among those P.O.S.E. has somewhat fallen out of favor to be replaced by Caught in 105K. However, many low-level players tend to run cookie-cutter O7 rosters so it's good to know the strat so as to easily counter it. ++ Caught in 105K [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Photo Finish]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Shutter]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Four Pixel Flurry]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Remote Punching]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Focusing Lens]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Brave\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] As opposed to P.O.S.E., and most other prior Shutterbug builds, Caught in 105K focuses on attack and accuracy rather than speed and support. Pioneered by [[user thedeadlymoose]] as part of the AAAAAAAAA line-up in Series II this saw little, but consistent, meta usage until its surprising resurgence in the 2020 Arizona Renaissance Faire Invitational. This invitational saw multiple high-level variations of the AAAAAAAAA roster including copies of [[[scp-4494\|SHADOWMAN]]] and [[[scp-4051\|Whirlpool]]]. It also saw some wild variation of the classic P.O.S.E. moveset such as teching in [[[scp-096\|Shyssasin's]]] signature move [# Four Pixel Flurry], something not seen on the competitive level since [[user Dr Dan]] all the way back in 2010. While an attack focused Shutterbug may seem obvious now, at the time [# Four Pixel Flurry] wasn't even considered due to [[[scp-096\|Shyssasin's]]] glass canon nature (due to several much needed nerfs) causing this SCP to be dead competitively, and there just wasn't enough support for the build (niche Delta Shutterbug build aside) until the Series VII introduction of the [[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]] item and [# Remote Punching] move pairing. [[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]] causes Shutterbug to be much of a tanky SCP akin to [[[SCP-7053\|Sheller]]] with much slower speed, which is somewhat counter-intuitive for a relatively speedy character, but shows its worth by heavily reinforcing slow to build powerhouse moves like [# Remote Punching] and [# Photo Finish] as well as potentially upping [# Four Pixel Flurry] to insta-kill range against mediocre defense stated SCPs. ----- ++ Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Voiiiii]] [[div]] AAAAAAAAA is my favorite team to run :)) [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user RosySaturniidae]] [[div]] I think the pairing of [[[scp-105\|Shutterbug]]] with [[[scp-166\|Teenature]]] is severely underrated, especially against threats like [[[scp-173\|Motonut]]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user nebulousstar]] [[div]] For sure! Especially since its typing rework from Divine to Nature gives Teenature [[[scp-4008\|Wormseed]]] synergy. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user kothardarastrix]] [[div]] In what world do you run Caught in 105K over P.O.S.E.?! I mean seriously how is this even up for debate? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user PlaguePJP]] [[div]] PlaguePJP [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user HarryBlank]] [[div]] Good bit of lowkey synergy potential, integrated reasonably well with the O7 and AAAAAAAAA stuff. I'd expected to see that Photo Finish was added in a much later build, and was surprised to see it in the first version of the SCP to see competitive use. A cool SCP with a clever ability, a reasonably interesting movepool and obviously very competitive, well-crafted. Subjective rating: 7.5/10. ------ [[size 75%]]{{Host of Simply Competitive People}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] Love all the fresh uses for Shutterbug that are constantly being discovered. Don't think I'll ever get sick of seeing new builds. [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 173]] [[collapsible show="#0173 Motonut" hide="#0173 Motonut"]] + Motonut [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image spriteunavailable]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|173\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="auto"]]Auto[[/span]][[span class="mineral"]]Mineral[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Mold Breaker]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Keter]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 65"]]65[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 136"]]136[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 70"]]70[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 60"]]60[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 64"]]64[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 100"]]100[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] +++ Overview The original top dog of the metagame, and one of the evergreen staples of the Keter tier. Motonut has remained a consistent threat, with its excellent Attack and a comfortable 100 speed tier. Its primary downside comes from a limited movepool and meager 65/70/64 bulk, meaning it seldom gets a chance to switch in, and would take heavy damage even on resisted hits. Although Motonut can be one-dimensional in its game plan, unprepared teams can easily find themselves be torn apart, especially from repeated Masked Unseen Snap set. It also has a niche in the Apollyon tier for being one of the few SCPs capable of breaking past Resistile. +++ Nipplenut [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Unseen Snap]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Full Tackle]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Hammer Arm]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Summon Licensing]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-6510\|Sky Ring]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Mold Breaker]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\| Jolly \|\| \|\|AVs:\|\|252 Atk / 4 SpD / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] Motonut outspeeds most of the metagame when equipped with a Sky Ring, allowing it to snatch KOs on key threats like [[[scp-5175\|Ken-Shinigami]]]. Unseen Snap is Motonut's choice STAB move, hitting many targets for at least neutral damage. Full Tackle let it hit [[[scp-999\|Jellisweet]]], while Hammer Arm gets the jump on opposing Auto-types. Summon Licensing gives Motonut the chance to deal massive damage to the opponent, potentially KOing both sides and let its teammate a free switch-in. This set's usage scenario should be determined on a case-by-case basis. Against opponents with many defensive counterplays, Motonut should be used as an early-game wallbreaker, letting it punch holes or remove key targets from the game, or as a late-game cleaner, after opposing SCPs have been weakened enough to be unable to live a STAB Unseen Snap. + Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user DrClef]] [[div]] nut [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Dr Gears]] [[div]] nut [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user Moto42]] [[div]] nut [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user Lt Masipag]] [[div]] nut [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] [[[scp-371-j\|no nut]]] [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 426]] [[collapsible show="#0426 Me" hide="#0426 Me"]] + Me ----- [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/ethagon-toaster/Toaster1.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|426\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="auto"]]Auto[[/span]][[span class="dread"]]Dread[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# ego]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Euclid]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 190"]]190[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 33"]]30[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 58"]]59[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 33"]]30[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 58"]]59[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 33"]]30[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] +++ Overview A staple in the Euclid Tier that in the right circumstances is able to punch above its weightclass. While the stats of Me alone make it seem like it is semi-optimal for taking heavy damage, the same can not be said if you take its unique moveset and ability into account. With the synergy of Ego and Same Joke it has remained a stable annoyance since the very first series. Its primary downside comes from a very limited movepool and horrendous stats outside of HP, making Me virtually unusable outside of very specific strategies. Setups with Me can range from tearing through [[[SCP-076\|Markable]]] to being fodder for [[[scp-ttku-j\|U-kill]]] who is completely immune to Ego. +++ One with All [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Camaraderie]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Sense of Self]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Toast Command]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Same Joke]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-1979\|Time-Up Treadmill]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Ego]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\| Hungry \|\| \|\|AVs:\|\|252 Atk / 4 SpD / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] The long wait time for Ego to come online is reduced by Time-Up Treadmill to be ready from the start, making anyone that hits Me receive their full damage from the first round instead of having to wait multiple rounds for the damage to add up. Using Camaraderie to prevent switching for the round and Sense of Self to let the enemy only receive the damage without Me having to tank it makes for a decent strategy. Putting foes under the influence of Same Joke is a good way to lock your opponent into defeat. With Me's Attack options not being the best, Toast Command remains the only viable option to make damage not coupled to being attacked. The best use case of Me remains to beat a tough opponent with the hope of ending with a double KO. While its moveset makes it largely Type independent, it still fairs worse against other Dread types on average. + Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Dr Gears]] [[div]] Me should really have been banned ages ago. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user DrClef]] [[div]] Well, DrClef thinks I should always be part of the Meta. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user OriTiefling]] [[div]] Getting this banned would be nice if only for the same joke accompanying it being stopped. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user LORDXVNV]] [[div]] You mean the same joke accompanying Me [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user OriTiefling]] [[div]] See, I can't even ban you for this, because that's literally its name. I hate this. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] [[# 527]] [[collapsible show="#0527 Fishhead" hide="#0537 Fishhead"]] + Fishhead ----- [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-527/fish.png]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|527\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="nature"]]Nature[[/span]][[span class="mortal"]]Mortal[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Swift Swim]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Wondertainment Junior Cup]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 20"]]20[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 10"]]10[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 55"]]55[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 15"]]15[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 20"]]20[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview There is a specter haunting OpusConfidant. The specter of Fishhead. All the powers of Appolyon have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this specter: [[[scp-682\|Resistile]]] and [[[scp-343\|Godhead]]], [[[scp-2337\|Spankoflex]]] and [[[scp-3309\|Smalls]]], [[[scp-3812\|Ben]]] and [[[twistedgears-kaktus-proposal\|MEKHANE]]]. Where is the party in opposition that has not been decried as overpowered by its opponents in power? Where is the opposition that has not hurled back the branding reproach of Fishhead, against the more advanced opposition parties, as well as against its reactionary adversaries? Two things result from this fact: I. Fishhead is already acknowledged by all Appolyon powers to be itself a power. II. It is high time that Fishhead should openly, in the face of the whole world, establish its strength, its OHKO potential, its sweeping potential, and meet this nursery tale of the Spectre of Fishhead with a manifesto of the Fishhead itself. To this end, Fishhead users of various nationalities have assembled on OpusConfidant forums and sketched the following manifesto, to be published in the monthly newsletter. ------ ++ Fishhead Godhead 4head [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Splash]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Flail]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Product Placement]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-4514\|TTTKY]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Swift Swim]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Surly\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 36 HP/ 196 Atk / 76 Def / 196 Spe\|\| [[/div]] With this set, Fishhead will be able to outspeed 90% of the Wondertainment Junior Cup metagame and Splash all over them. You will be able to mercilessly show off just how much of a rebel you are for using this absolutely useless SCP. And hey, if they don't OHKO you, you always have TTTKY to finish the job for them. Sadly, this set doesn't see much competitive play. ------ [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user djkaktus]] [[div]] the people's champ is finally here [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user kinchtheknifeblade]] [[div]] loved the write up [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user kinchtheknifeblade]] [[div]] loved the write up [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user kinchtheknifeblade]] [[div]] fuck meant to reply to the op [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user kinchtheknifeblade]] [[div]] fuck im so high lol [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 789-J]] [[collapsible show="#0789-J Asshaunter" hide="#0789-J Asshaunter"]] + Asshaunter ----- [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-789-j/thebuttghost-new.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|789-J\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="dread"]]Dread[[/span]][[span class="humor"]]Humor[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Stench]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Wondertainment Junior Cup]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 30"]]30[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 35"]]35[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 30"]]30[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 95"]]95[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 45"]]45[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 90"]]90[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview Asshaunter has been a Wondertainment Junior Cup staple ever since its inception in Series I. Though it doesn't have the best defensive profile, (But then again, what Dread-type SCP does?) it has decent move coverage and good enough Sp. Attack and Speed to make it a commonly used SCP in the lower power level it finds itself in. Ideally, Asshaunter wants to get in before its opponent sets up entry hazards since it lacks the means by which to get rid of them and suffers greatly because of them. Of course, you can choose to equip yours with a healing item, but this goes against its glass cannon nature and causes you to lose significant firepower. ----- ++ Revenge Killer/Sweeper [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Spoopy]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Neptune's Kiss]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Haunt]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Hidden Power (Cosmos)]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[# Life Orb]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Stench]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Timid\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 252 SpA / 4 SpD / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] [# Spoopy] and [# Haunt] are powerful STAB moves that are guaranteed to hit hard because of Asshaunter's strong SpA stat. [# Neptune's Kiss] and [# Hidden Power] are excellent coverage moves that let this SCP patch up its weaknesses. Despite its measly 30 in HP, Asshaunter makes up for it by having what is arguably the best typing in the game, Dread, and Humor. With this type combination, the SCP is hit for neutral damage on all Humor attacks, is straight-up immune to Dread, and takes half damage from Cosmos and Divine. The only real threat Asshaunter faces is that of Auto types, which are rare in Wondertainment Junior Cup, but even then, you have [# Hidden Power (Cosmos)] to defend yourself against them. All in all, Asshaunter is a powerful SCP that fits into almost any team and is capable of sweeping or revenge killing assuming the opponent hasn't been given time to set up. ----- [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user faminepulse]] [[div]] hee hee [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Salman Corbette]] [[div]] hee hee [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user a random day]] [[div]] Why do people insist on using -J's? They're so fucking stupid and unfunny. Seriously. They also bloat the Humor type for no good reason. ------ [[size 75%]]{{Masters Division World Championship Winner 2017}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Salman Corbette]] [[div]] hee hee [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user faminepulse]] [[div]] hee hee [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 1465]] [[collapsible show="#1465 Polyroid" hide="#1465 Polyroid"]] + Polyroid [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image http://smlt.wikidot.com/local--files/cassandra-prime:april-fools/105cameraflipped.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|1465\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="mortal"]]Mortal[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Aperture Adjust/Quantum Lens]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Keter]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 99"]]99[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 83"]]83[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 91"]]91[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 83"]]83[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview One of the most well-known SCPs by casual and competitive alike, Polyroid was released all the way back in Series II and has been considered a staple of many teams ever since. Due to its high speed (especially when reinforced with Photo Finish) and a highly varied movepool Polyroid has found a home in meta teams such as O7 and AAAAAAAAA. Polyroid is also run in more experimental teams alongside SCPs like [[[scp-0166\| Gothicemme]]] or [[[scp-6239\| Mega Slumberslack]]] in the Gothic GF and Welcome to Slumberslackland teams, though those are currently considered non-viable. From casual teams to championship rosters Polyroid is run at all levels. No small wonder that many players claim to see this SCP everywhere. ++ P.O.S.E. [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Photo Finish]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Optics]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Shutter]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Exposure]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-978\|Votum Loci]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Quantum Lens]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Timid\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 12 HP / 244 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] P.O.S.E. is a classic move-set and game plan that has seen little change since its first use in Series II to complete the O7 team (so named because, for a time, if you came up against this team, all you could really do was salute and surrender). The plan is simple: first you set up with the delayed [# Photo Finish], hopefully stun your opponent with [# Optics], stall them with [# Shutter] as needed, hit them with [# Exposure] to do some chip damage, at which point your [# Photo Finish] should proc. While on its own this is nothing extraordinary P.O.S.E. really shone in the O7 team setting, especially with the use of [[[scp-515-ARC\|Fluttershy Lens]]]. This now banned item both upped the chance of getting a stun off on [# Optics] from 25% to 75% //and// increased move speed, making what would otherwise have been a decent moveset into an unstoppable juggernaut, especially when paired with [[[scp-073\| Markaine]]]'s weedkiller moveset. With the banning of Fluttershy Lens necessitating its replacement with the far inferior [[[scp-978\|Votum Loci]]] (much worse stun chance, no damage increase) and the power creep of later series, many have dropped this style of Polyroid in favour of more recent SCP such as [[[scp-5595\|Gumballbuster]]] or [[[scp-4051\|Whirlpool]]]. Some pros do still run Polyroid, though among those P.O.S.E. has somewhat fallen out of favor to be replaced by Caught in 1465K. However, many low-level players tend to run cookie-cutter O7 rosters so it's good to know the strat so as to easily counter it. ++ Caught in 1465K [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Photo Finish]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Shutter]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Five Pixel Flurry]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Remote Punching]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Aperture Adjust]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Brave\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] As opposed to P.O.S.E., and most other prior Polyroid builds, Caught in 1465K focuses on attack and accuracy rather than speed and support. Pioneered by [[user thedeadlymoose]] as part of the AAAAAAAAA line-up in Series II this saw little, but consistent, meta usage until its surprising resurgence in the 2020 Massachusetts Renaissance Faire Invitational. This invitational saw multiple high-level variations of the AAAAAAAAA roster including copies of [[[scp-5601\|Caged Demonbird]]] and [[[scp-4051\|Whirlpool]]]. It also saw some wild variation of the classic P.O.S.E. moveset such as teching in [[[scp-096\|Shyssasin's]]] signature move [# Five Pixel Flurry], something not seen on the competitive level since [[user Dr Dan]] all the way back in 2010. While an attack focused Shutterbug may seem obvious now, at the time [# Five Pixel Flurry] wasn't even considered due to [[[scp-096\|Shyssasin's]]] glass canon nature (due to several much needed nerfs) causing this SCP to be dead competitively, and there just wasn't enough support for the build (niche Delta Polyroid build aside) until the Series VII introduction of the [[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]] item and [# Remote Punching] move pairing. [[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone]]] causes Polyroid to be much of a tanky SCP akin to [[[SCP-7053\|Sheller]]] with much slower speed, which is somewhat counter-intuitive for a relatively speedy character, but shows its worth by heavily reinforcing slow to build powerhouse moves like [# Remote Punching] and [# Photo Finish] as well as potentially upping [# Five Pixel Flurry] to insta-kill range against mediocre defense stated SCPs. ----- ++ Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Voiiiii]] [[div]] AAAAAAAAA is my favorite team to run :)) [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user UraniumEmpire]] [[div]] I think the pairing of [[[scp-1465\|Polyroid]]] with [[[scp-0166\|Gothicemme]]] is severely underrated, especially against threats like [[[scp-3043\|Lawbringer]]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Fishish]] [[div]] Definitely! Especially since its typing rework from Divine to Meta gives Gothicemme [[[scp-6938\|Skiphorse]]] synergy. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user kothardarastrix]] [[div]] In what world do you run P.O.S.E. over Caught in 1465K ?! I mean seriously how is this even up for debate? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user PlaguePJP]] [[div]] PlaguePJP [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Grigori Karpin]] [[div]] Good bit of lowkey synergy potential, integrated reasonably well with the O7 and AAAAAAAAA stuff. I'd expected to see that Photo Finish was added in a much later build, and was surprised to see it in the first version of the SCP to see competitive use. A cool SCP with a clever ability, a reasonably interesting movepool and obviously very competitive, well-crafted. Subjective rating: 7.5/10. ------ [[size 75%]]{{Host of Simply Competitive People}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] Wish I saw more fresh uses for Polyroid discovered. It's an alright SCP but it could use some new builds or it risks getting stale. [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 2337]] [[collapsible show="#2337 Spankoflex" hide="#2337 Spankoflex"]] + Spankoflex ----- [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-2337/corncrake2.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|2337\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="humor"]]Humor[[/span]][[span class="nature"]]Nature[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Prankster/Soundproof]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Keter]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 75"]]75[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 91"]]91[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 87"]]87[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 75"]]75[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview Looking at Spankoflex's stats alone one might think it's a mediocre SCP and not worthy of belonging on many popular teams in the Keter tier. However, once its moveset and ability are taken into account, Spankoflex's true power shines through. Thanks to the power of [# Prankster], it has priority access to its vast gallery of support moves. Moreover, it also has access to Boomburst, one of the most powerful moves in the game, on which it also gets STAB. Ever since its premiere in Series III, Spankoflex has been terrorizing OpusConfidant matches with its antics and frustrating those who underestimate it. However, Spankoflex is not without its counters. Other Humor types nullify its [# Prankster] ability, rendering it unable to lay its tricky traps and forcing it to rely on its offensive prowess, which it is severely lacking in. ----- ++ Trickster Support [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Cack]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Swap Blast]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Swiftfoot Scramble]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Boomburst]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-714\|Jade Ring]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Prankster]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Curious\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 248 HP / 252 SpD / 8 Spe\|\| [[/div]] The [[[scp-714\|Jade Ring]]] feels like it was absolutely made with SCPs like Spankoflex in mind, as it allows it to transfer the Sleep status effect effectively and without issue. Once you've got an enemy locked into Sleep, you can easily spread entry hazards with [# Swiftfoot Scramble]. If your opponent swapped in an SCP that would be crippled by your newly held Item pilfered through [# Swap Blast], you can gift it to them. And if for some reason your opponent is a Sleeptalker (who does that in Keter nowadays anyway?), you can easily inflict chip damage and Confuse them with [# Cack]. If you are faced with a Humor-type opponent or are otherwise unable to cause chaos, you will be forced to use Boomburst. Though your attacking stats are not strong, [# Boomburst] has a staggering 140 Power, and you will probably be able to put a good dent in its health unless it's a Mineral type. ++ Cack Cannon [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Cack]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[[[cack-hard\|Cack Hard]]]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Gacklegrapes]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Boomburst]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[http://lafundacionscp.wikidot.com/scp-es-002 Loud Speaker]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Soundproof]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Spurious\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] Though Spankoflex is not the toughest of cookies, it can definitely break some walls thanks to access to STAB [# Boomburst] further empowered by the [http://lafundacionscp.wikidot.com/scp-es-002 Loud Speaker] item. It can even 1HKO a [[[scp-682\|Resistile]]] that isn't invested into Special Defense. Though [# Cack] and [# Cack Hard] are decent moves on their own, the star of the show here is [# Boomburst], which you should ideally be spamming if you intend on using Spankoflex as a wallbreaker. If you're ever in a situation where [# Boomburst] cannot help you (or you've run out of PP), the most you can do is fall back on [# Cack] and hope your opponent deals damage to themselves in confusion while you swap out to another SCP and wonder why didn't go with its Trickster Support build instead. ----- ++ Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user daveyoufool]] [[div]] I really never expected Spankoflex to come so far. I remember being one of its first users way back in Series III when no one wanted to give the silly bird a chance. And now look at it! [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] Honestly, I remember thinking you were on to something even back then. I just couldn't break away from my Thaumiel-loving tendencies. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user A Random Day]] [[div]] i hate this fucking idiot bird. [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 3002]] [[collapsible show="#3002 Rolypolaroid" hide="#3002 Rolypolaroid"]] + Rolypolaroid [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image http://smlt.wikidot.com/local--files/cassandra-prime:april-fools/105CameraRainbow.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|3002\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="dread"]]Dread[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Bodies in the Water/Mask-mender]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Keter]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 99"]]99[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 83"]]83[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 91"]]91[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 83"]]83[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview One of the most well-known SCPs by casual and competitive alike, Rolypolaroid was released back in Series IV and has been considered a staple of many teams ever since. Due to its high speed (especially when reinforced with Photo Finish) and a highly varied movepool Rolypolaroid has found a home in meta teams such as O7 and AAAAAAAAA. Rolypolaroid is also run in more experimental teams alongside SCPs like [[[scp-4166\| Demager]]] (even despite its nerf) or [[[siggy-and-robomonkey\|Spellwiggler]]] in the Wasted Youth and Sweet Memes are Made of These teams, though those are currently considered non-viable. From casual teams to championship rosters Rolypolaroid is run at all levels. No small wonder that many players remember seeing this SCP everywhere. ++ P.O.S.E. [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Photo Finish]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Optics]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Shutter]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Exposure]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-978\|Votum Loci]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Mask-mender]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Timid\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 12 HP / 244 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] P.O.S.E. is a classic move-set and game plan that has seen little change since its first use in Series IV to complete the Project Lethe team (though few remember this due to its limited use). The plan is simple: first you set up with the delayed [# Photo Finish], hopefully stun your opponent with [# Optics], stall them with [# Shutter] as needed, hit them with [# Exposure] to do some chip damage, at which point your [# Photo Finish] should proc. While on its own this is nothing extraordinary P.O.S.E. really shined in the O7 team setting, especially with the use of [[[scp-515-ARC\|Fluttershy Lens]]]. This now banned item both upped the chance of getting a stun off on [# Optics] from 25% to 75% //and// increased move speed, making what would otherwise have been a decent moveset into a terrifiying force of nature, especially when paired with [[[scp-5000\| Y5K]]]'s stage effect. With the banning of Fluttershy Lens necessitating its replacement with the far inferior [[[scp-978\|Votum Loci]]] (much worse stun chance, no damage increase) and the power creep of later series, many have dropped this style of Rolypolaroid in favor of more recent SCP such as [[[scp-6597\|Whalerlord]]] or [[[scp-4051\|Whirlpool]]]. Some pros do still run Rolypolaroid, however, among those P.O.S.E. has somewhat fallen out of favor to be replaced by Caught in 3002K. However, many low-level players tend to run cookie-cutter Lethe rosters so it's good to know the strat so as to easily counter it. ++ Caught in 3002K [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Photo Finish]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Shutter]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Threeve Pixel Flurry]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Remote Punching]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Bodies in the Water]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Brave\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] As opposed to P.O.S.E., and most other prior Rolypolaroid builds, Caught in 3002K focuses on attack and accuracy rather than speed and support. Pioneered by [[user thedeadlymoose]] as part of the AAAAAAAAA line-up in Series II this saw little, but consistent, meta usage until its surprising resurgence in the 2020 Southern Indiana Renaissance Faire Invitational. This invitational saw multiple high-level variations of the AAAAAAAAA roster including copies of [[[scp-2408\|Dark Hunter]]] and [[[scp-4051\|Whirlpool]]]. It also saw some wild variation of the classic P.O.S.E. moveset such as teching in [[[scp-096\|Shyssasin's]]] signature move [# Threeve Pixel Flurry], something not seen on the competitive level since [[user Dr Dan]] all the way back in 2010. While an attack focused Rolypolaroid may seem obvious now, at the time [# Threeve Pixel Flurry] wasn't even considered due to [[[scp-096\|Shyssasin's]]] glass canon nature (due to several much needed nerfs) causing this SCP to be dead competitively, and there just wasn't enough support for the build (niche Delta Rolypolaroid build aside) until the Series VII introduction of the [[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]] item and [# Remote Punching] move pairing. [[[SCP-6980 \| Satellite CameraPhone ]]] causes Rolypolaroid to be much of a tanky SCP akin to [[[SCP-7053\|Sheller]]] with much slower speed, which is somewhat counter-intuitive for a relatively speedy character, but shows its worth by heavily reinforcing slow to build powerhouse moves like [# Remote Punching] and [# Photo Finish] as well as potentially upping [# Threeve Pixel Flurry] to insta-kill range against mediocre defense stated SCPs. ----- ++ Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Voiiiii]] [[div]] AAAAAAAAA is my favorite team to run :)) [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user DolphinSlugchugger]] [[div]] I think the pairing of [[[scp-3002\|Rolypolaroid]]] with [[[scp-4166\|Demager]]] is severely underrated, especially against threats like [[[scp-055\|Orbhorse]]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Decibelles]] [[div]] 100% Especially since its Divine typing gives Demager [[[scp-475\|Soapopo]]] synergy. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user kothardarastrix]] [[div]] In what world do you run Rolypolaroid?! I mean seriously how is this even up for debate? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user PlaguePJP]] [[div]] --Good bit of lowkey synergy potential, integrated reasonably well with the O7 and AAAAAAAAA stuff. I'd expected to see that Photo Finish was added in a much later build, and was surprised to see it in the first version of the SCP to see competitive use. A cool SCP with a clever ability, a reasonably interesting movepool and obviously very competitive, well-crafted. Subjective rating: 7.5/10.-- PlaguePJP ------ [[size 75%]]{{Host of Simply Competitive People}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] Such an overused SCP that I'm completely sick of seeing. Hope it gets banned [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Lily Veselka]] [[div]] meta deez nuts [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 4380]] [[collapsible show="#4380 Primus" hide=" #1 FIRSTFIRSTFIR"]] + FIRSTFIRSTFIRSTFIR [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7400/sexy.png]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|1\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="auto"]]Prime[[/span]][[span class="divine"]]Divine[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Top Breaker]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Semel]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 1000"]]1[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 1000"]]1[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 1000"]]1[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 1000"]]1[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 1000"]]1[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 1000"]]1[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] +++ Overview Primus is literally the most powerful thing ever you can't compare it to any other thing. I'm sorry but that's just how it is. If you look at the stats its all one, because it is the One. It is the Prime, the first, the foremost, the highest, greatest, leading, head, ruling, chief, supreme, principal, paramount, president, overriding, god, pre-eminent and the foremost. Primus is just too strong for all of you. +++ Limitless [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Number-one]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Foremost]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Utmost]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Another synonym of first]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/mcdoctorate-s-proposal\| McDoctorate]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Actually 001]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\| Greed \|\| \|\|AVs:\|\|1 Atk / 1 SpD / 1 Spe\|\| [[/div]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/mcdoctorate-s-proposal\| McDoctorate] is basically the same thing as primus, but better. As in, both have technically infinite power. And you know what maths says: infinity + infinity = EVEN MORE POWER!! + Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Moto42]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user DrClef]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Dr Gears]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Lt Masipag]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Djkaktus]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Rounderhouse]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user OriTiefling]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Jack Waltz]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Fishish]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Calibold]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user J Dune]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Rakkran]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Yossipossi]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Placeholder McD]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Djkaktus]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user basirskipreader]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Ralliston]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user HarryBlank]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user stormbreath]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user gee0765]] [[div]] Meta deez nuts [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Lt Flops]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Tufto]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Henzoid]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Crow Cat]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Fish^12]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user First]] [[div]] Second [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Guezma]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Guaire]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user HOGSLICE]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Prime Girl]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Dr peanut 05]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user faminepulse]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user A random day]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Liryn]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user daveyoufool]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user thedeadlymoose]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user zyn]] [[div]] First [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply6"]] [[user Felixou]] [[div]] FUCK ALL OF YOU YOU WON'T GET MEEEEEEEEEEE USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST* [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Due to Felixou being the shitposter behind this, replacing the #4380 slot and somehow hacking all profiles of the Site to post a single comment, the ban passes. [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 5514]] [[collapsible show="#5514 Dragonslayer" hide="#5514 Dragonslayer"]] + Dragonslayer ------ [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-5514/dragonslayer2.png]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|5514\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="auto"]]Auto[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Clear Body]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Thaumiel]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 105"]]105[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 150"]]150[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 100"]]100[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 120"]]120[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 100"]]100[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview Dragonslayer is one of the premier offensive threats in Thaumiel, with its whopping attacking powers, decent speed, and access to [# Dragon Dance] to further boost these stats. There is very little that can stand in the way of a Dragonslayer who has set up even two [# Dragon Dance]s. One of the few things that can actually prove a roadblock to Dragonslayer is a Defense-invested [[[scp-682\|Resistile]]], but then again, what can't that fat lizard wall? One SCP to look out for is [[[scp-179\|Estrellite]]], as its access to [# Solar Flare] can melt through Dragonslayer's pure Auto typing, and its Cosmos typing makes it difficult to take out. ------ ++ Large-Scale Aggressor Overrun [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Beowulf-Sigurd Rail]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Cold Iron Sword]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Thousand Word Arrows]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Dragon Dance]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-037\|Dwarf Star]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Clear Body]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Naughty\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 252 Atk / 4 Def / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] Now, you might be wondering, "Where is Dragonslayer's signature move? I want my [# Emergency Sun Vent]!" Well, dear reader, need I remind you that utilizing this move reduces all of Dragonslayer's stats by two stages AND renders it immobile for one round? Sure, that 400 Base Power move may seem appetizing but let me assure you that becoming a sitting duck for a turn and having your stats lowered all for the sake of nuking one SCP is not always worth it. It is far easier to just set up with [# Dragon Dance] and take out your opponent with your [# Beowulf-Sigurd Rail] or [# Thousand Word Arrows]. ----- [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user stormbreath]] [[div]] I think OP is lazy for not not even trying to implement the move [# Emergency Sun Vent] into a competitive aspect. It can totally work. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user ellie3]] [[div]] i think this commenter is lazy for not even trying to kill themselves. it can totally work. ##red\|{{USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST.}}## [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user ellie3]] [[div]] care for themselves 😊😊😊😊 [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user stormbreath]] [[div]] @@>Gets criticized once@@ @@>"kys"@@ Real mature. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user OriTiefling]] [[div]] [[user Ellie3]] has been banned for constant inflammatory statements. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user ellie4]] [[div]] What an unfunny "joke." I hope they change and grow as a person. [[/div]] [[/div]] + [[/collapsible]] [[# 6048]] [[collapsible show="#6048 Solamotha" hide="#6048 Solamotha"]] + Solamotha ----- [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-6048/Atlas%20Moth.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|6048\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="solar"]]Solar[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Drought/Radiant Light]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Keter]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 100"]]100[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 160"]]160[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 70"]]70[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 105"]]105[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- ++ Overview Solamotha made for a unique addition back when it was released in Series VII and has held its grounding since. Bolstering a massive special attack and not-shabby speed, Solamotha could wipe several premiere threats from the field in the blink of an eye. However it's limited movepool, lack of coverage options and frail defenses combined with a defensively weak typing relegates Solamotha to serving as a glass-cannon in most teams its included in. ++ Hey, Hollow Knight Reference! [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Blinding Light]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Leaf Munch]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Quiver Dance]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Fiery Air]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[# Cocoon Casings]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Radiant Light]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Modest\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 4 Def / 252 SpA / 252 Spe\|\| [[/div]] HHKR was one of the first sets conceived for Solamotha and, lucky for the big moth, it has stuck since! Focusing on doling out damage above all else, this set can OHKO anything that doesn't resist Solamotha's STABs. Setting up a [# Quiver Dance] on top of Solamotha's already ginormous stats makes it nearly unstoppable. But that's exactly the issue; getting up a Quiver Dance in the first place. The [# Solar] type means Solamotha takes super effective damage to entry hazards and it's weak defenses means it can't come in whenever it wants. You need to guarantee a safe switch for Solamotha for it to be able to do its work. The [# Cocoon Casings] allows Solamotha to take one super effective hit without immediately fainting, letting it possibly knock out one more opponent. If survivability isn't your gig, a [# Fire Gem] allows you to pack in ginormous damage to the first [# Fiery Air] you launch. Nothing, not even resists, can survive that. ++ Humid Weather [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Caterpillar Dreams]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Solar Beam]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Cognition Shift]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Blinding Light]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[# Cocoon Casings]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Drought]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\|Bold\|\| \|\|AVs:\|\| 196 HP / 60 Def / 252 SpA \|\| [[/div]] Humid Weather is a far more defensive approach to running Solamotha. Though its frailness still necessitates the use of [# Cocoon Casings], this set allows Solamotha to take more hits on the field. [# Caterpillar Dreams] serves as invaluable recovery for the moth, restoring 25% of its max health and setting a [# Cognito Field] on the battleground, eliminating the threat of priority moves for its entire team. [# Cognito-Shift] is one of few coverage moves Solamotha has and it takes full advantage of it in this set. A Cognito Field boosted Cognition Shift does hefty damage to opponents that resist Solamotha's STABs. [[/collapsible]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: opconf-b.png > Author: [[user EstrellaYoshte]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/opusconfidant/opconf.png ===== > Filename: profever.png > Name: profever.png > Author: HarryBlank > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/estrellayoshte/profever.png ===== > Filename: type.png > Name: type.png > Author: Fantem > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/estrellayoshte/type.png ===== > Filename: battle.png > Name: battle.png > Author: Syuzhet > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/estrellayoshte/battle.png ===== > Filename: wretched-luncheon-small-v2.png > Author: [[user UncertaintyCrossing]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: N/A ===== > Filename: 2014-07-18 22.41.47-new.jpg > Name: Polaroid OneStep Express.jpg > Author: Retro00064 > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Polaroid_OneStep_Express.jpg\|Wikimedia]]] ===== > Filename: Toaster1.jpg ‎ > Name: Toaster1.jpg > Author: Peng > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toaster1.jpg ===== > Filename: thebuttghost-new.jpg > Author: [[user Elenee FishTruck]], Paul Robinson, Jorge Royan > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-789-j SCP Foundation Wiki] > Derivative of: > ---- > Name: Toilet 370x580.jpg > Author: Paul Robinson > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toilet_370x580.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > ---- > Name: India - Delhi old man - 5089.jpg > Author: Jorge Royan / http://www.royan.com.ar > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:India_-_Delhi_old_man_-_5089.jpg Wikimedia Commons] ===== > Filename: 105cameraflipped.jpg > Name: 105cameraflipped > Author: Cassandra_Prime > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: N/A > Derivative of: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-105/2014-07-18%2022.41.47-new.jpg ===== > Filename: corncrake2.jpg > Name: Corncrake by Loch Mòr Bharabhais, Isle of Lewis > Author: Claire Pegrum > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [[[https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/5525888\|Link]]] ===== > Filename: 105CameraRainbow.jpg > Name: 105CameraRainbow > Author: Cassandra_Prime > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: N/A > Derivative of: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-105/2014-07-18%2022.41.47-new.jpg ===== > Filename: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/calibri-bold-s-mega-cool-author-page/i%20hate%20fabsol.jpg > Name: i hate fabsol > Author: Calibold > License: CC-by-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/calibri-bold-s-mega-cool-author-page/i%20hate%20fabsol.jpg ===== > Filename: dragonslayer2.png > Author: [[user syuzhet]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/forum/t-13816591/scp-5514#post-4795893 SCP Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-03T01:35:00	[ "_cc", "alternate-history", "co-authored", "comedy", "doctor-everwood", "doctor-spanko", "iris-thompson", "mr-fish", "tale", "the-sculpture", "worldbuilding" ]	OpusConfidant April 1st 2023 Spotlight - SCP Foundation	65	[ "about-the-scp-foundation", "news-03-2023", "news-02-2023", "artwork-hub", "artist-showcase-archive", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#105", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#173", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#426", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#527", "resistile-decomm-attempt", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#789-J", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#1465", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#2337", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#3002", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#4380", "threatini", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#5514", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight#6048", "scp-166", "scp-239", "scp-978", "scp-515-arc", "scp-076", "scp-5175", "scp-4051", "scp-6980", "scp-4494", "scp-096", "scp-7053", "scp-105", "scp-173", "scp-4008", "scp-6510", "scp-999", "scp-371-j", "scp-ttku-j", "scp-1979", "scp-682", "scp-343", "scp-2337", "scp-3309", "scp-3812", "twistedgears-kaktus-proposal", "scp-4514", "scp-0166", "scp-6239", "scp-073", "scp-5595", "scp-5601", "scp-1465", "scp-3043", "scp-6938", "scp-714", "cack-hard", "scp-4166", "siggy-and-robomonkey", "scp-5000", "scp-6597", "scp-2408", "scp-3002", "scp-055", "scp-475", "mcdoctorate-s-proposal%7C", "scp-179", "scp-037", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "scp-789-j", "forum/t-13816591/scp-5514#post-4795893" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "april-fools-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight/opconf-b.png" ]	1447176751	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight
opusconfidant-orientation	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> The following guide was created by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harmacy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8339288); return false;"><img alt="Harmacy" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8339288&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8339288)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harmacy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8339288); return false;">Harmacy</a></span> and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;"><img alt="Dino--Draws" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8229577&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8229577)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;">Dino--Draws</a></span> for the SCP Foundation's 2023 April Fool's day event. It is not meant to serve as an official guide to any current on-site policies, but it might help you better understand any "OPUSCONFIDANT Metagame" articles you see. Please enjoy!</p> </blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>OPUSCONFIDENT Orientation</span></h1> <img alt="opuslogo.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/opusconfidant-orientation/opuslogo.png"/> <h2 id="toc1"><span>A New Trainer's Guide to Capturing and Battling SCPs</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p>Howdy there, trainer! You must be new here. On behalf of the OPUSCONFIDANT staff, I'd like to welcome you to the metagame. It seems like you've already picked your starter and avatar, so I'll give you a quick rundown of what this game is about.</p> <p>OPUSCONFIDANT is a worldwide metagame played by millions who seek to capture, train, and battle the oddities they see in the world. We refer to these entities as "Secured Combatative Peculiarities," or "SCPs" for short. This is an open-world universe where you can choose your role, anomalies, and mission, but most gameplay centers around player characters within the SCP Foundation. We'll discuss that part later.</p> <p>This OPUSCONFIDANT site was created in 2008 to archive all known SCPs, and it's grown to serve as a hub for some of the most proficient and renowned metagamers. This page is designed to help new players catch up on the metagame's heavy lore and history.</p> <p>Currently, we are in the metagame's eighth series. Since not all 8,000 anomalies have been cataloged yet, the starters for this generation have yet to be revealed. We recommend players start with one of the earlier series to learn the game's basics, before engaging with the more narratively complex generations. While you may face backlash from more experienced metagames for picking a starter from an earlier series, there's nothing wrong with starting small and working your way up!</p> <p>Every SCP generation, or "Series" as they're most commonly referred to, has had its own starters. The most popular starters are those from Series I, being <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-105">Shutterbug</a>, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-387">Legoliath</a>, and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-999">Squishmaster</a>. Chances are your starter will have a "safe" containment tier, as these are generally the easiest to handle for new players, and the least likely to turn on their trainers.</p> <p>Your starter should be easy to train and contain using your pre-equipped snacks and home site. Once you contain an SCP, you and your companions will always spawn at your <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7001">default home site</a>. If you aren't a fan of Site-19, you can unlock new locations to set as your headquarters as you progress throughout the game.</p> <p>All that said, let's get started with discussing some of the game's deeper lore.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span><strong>Determining your Affiliation and Team</strong></span></h2> </div> <p>Although players all start out at the default home site at a standard level-one position, and you can work yourself up by individually containing and battling anomalies and in-game enemies, one of the fastest ways to maximize your stats and gain XP is by joining a team.</p> <h4 id="toc3"><span>MTFs</span></h4> <p>If you wish to stay affiliated with the main Foundation player base, your best option for this is to join a Mobile Task Force, or "MTF".</p> <p>Each MTF has a specialty and purpose. Some are created to exclusively track, contain, and train one SCP, while others oversee several Foundation tasks and projects. As a general disclaimer, you are unlikely to get to keep the anomalies you contain while on an MTF mission, though you'll likely receive in-game rewards and items.</p> <p>Some of the best-Voted MTFs for new players are as follows:</p> <ul> <li><strong>MTF Alpha-4 ("Pony Express"):</strong> Team tasked with intercepting anomalies being sent between non-Foundation players. Shown to add a maximum of +25 Perception stats to the player character, and gives players a 1/15 chance of keeping the anomaly they secure. Will provide players with the "Formal Apologist" achievement should they recover <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-formal-apology">a particular letter</a>.</li> <li><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/angle-grinders">MTF Theta-90 ("Angle Grinders"):</a></strong> For those metagamers seeking to learn about anomalies capable of altering topography and spacetime. Missions regularly end with in-game mechanics breaking, so high CPU is recommended.</li> <li><strong>MTF Zeta-9 ("Mole Rats"):</strong> Deals with tracking anomalies and phenomena in enclosed areas, often underground or in uninhabited regions. Greatly increases courage, speed, and perception stats. Allows players to participate in initial exploration logs. Carries a 23% fatality rate per mission.</li> <li><strong>MTF Mu-65 ("Clever Girls"):</strong> Great for players interested in prehistoric entities. Serving on this MTF for an in-game period of five years allows players a +10 bonus whenever trying to contain Nature-type SCPs. Also gives players early access to Site-403.</li> <li>View the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/task-forces">Task Forces</a> guide to see all MTFs currently accepting new members.</li> </ul> <h4 id="toc4"><span>GoIs</span></h4> <p>Not all metagamers have found themselves wanting to play on the Foundation's team! Several have deserted and formed splinter organizations, known to main base players as 'GoIs'. Rarely are GoIs on positive terms with Foundation, and deserters might face hostility from Foundation-affiliated players.</p> <p>Below are some of the most important GOIs to learn about <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">and consider joining</span> as a new player.</p> <ul> <li><strong>Serpent's Hand:</strong> Perhaps the most well-known and joined GoI, the Serpent's Hand and Wanderer's Library are romanticized by several metagamers for possessing so much in-game lore, worldbuilding, and knowledge. Accessing this location provides players the opportunity to maximize their intuition and wisdom stats, though this comes at the cost of relinquishing one's ability to contain SCPs, given the GoI's focus on anomalous rights.</li> <li><strong>Wilson's Wildlife Services:</strong> WWS focuses on elements of the game relating to SCP conservation and caretaking. This group is ideal for those who enjoy tap or clicker games, as players can simulate rescuing and tending to the needs of fantastical creatures on the mainbase map without having to worry about Foundation-affiliated players challenging or attacking them. In fact, main base players may relinquish lower-stat SCPs to WWS for the purposes of safekeeping. WWS is also known for housing the SCP feeding and cleaning minigames.</li> <li><strong>Marshall, Carter, & Dark:</strong> MC&D are represented in-game by three elderly balding men in sunglasses and gold suits. They have a 1/20 chance of appearing at the end of a battle or mission to challenge players for any rewards or anomalies they have collected. Players have the option of relinquishing their anomalies to MC&D, or partaking in a 1v3 battle to keep all their items.</li> </ul> <p>Please note leaving the primary SCP playerbase makes it impossible to rejoin, even with maximized charisma stats. You will likely need to create a new in-game character.</p> <h4 id="toc5"><span>Double-Dipping</span></h4> <p>Some players have been rumored to successfully moonlight as a mainbase player while participating in a GoI. The most notable of these are some residents of the Wanderer's Library. Several high-profile mainbase players, such as <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncertaintycrossing" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4257427); return false;"><img alt="UncertaintyCrossing" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4257427&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4257427)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncertaintycrossing" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4257427); return false;">UncertaintyCrossing</a></span>, and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/meltedbee" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7730848); return false;"><img alt="meltedbee" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7730848&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7730848)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/meltedbee" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7730848); return false;">meltedbee</a></span> have been accused of participating in a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wanderers-library-hub">separate metagame for their GoIs</a>, unaffiliated with the Foundation site. Thus far, Mr. House and his associates have declined to comment.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc6"><span><strong>Metagame Locations, Maps, and Questlines</strong></span></h2> </div> <p>With how diverse the metagame has gotten, different player-made plotlines and maps have naturally diverged. Unlike many other games, there is no solid boundary between maps. However, some SCPs can be restricted to one area of the metagame if their players' headcanon can't justify their existence outside a particular "Map".</p> <h4 id="toc7"><span>Maps</span></h4> <p>A "Map" can refers to a specific "Canon", "Series", "Reality", or "Dimension". Some metagamers struggle to understand the difference between "Canons" and "Series". Canons are considered Open-World games that anyone can join, while a Series is restricted to specific metagamers and requires an access code.<br/> Some of the most well-known Maps are as follows.</p> <ul> <li><strong>Broken Masquerade Map:</strong> Perfect for metagamers and anomalies who'd like to game without worrying about veil-breaking consequences. However, the civilian interference factor and GoI capture risk are significantly higher.</li> <li><strong>War on All Fronts:</strong> Minor spats between metagamers regularly evolve into fully-blown kaiju fights. Game devs have thankfully banned most kaiju battles outside of this map, but be careful where you spawn. <ul> <li>As of 04/01/2023, the in-game betting system on kaiju fights was removed.</li> </ul> </li> <li><strong>Stealing Solidarity Map:</strong> This map houses several metagamers enthused about the presence of canonical catgirls within the SCP universe. Many users regularly report seeing metagamers <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;"><img alt="basirskipreader" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6657366&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6657366)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;">basirskipreader</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;"><img alt="Prismal" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8779219&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8779219)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;">Prismal</a></span>, and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/insanitz" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7718970); return false;"><img alt="Insanitz" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7718970&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7718970)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/insanitz" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7718970); return false;">Insanitz</a></span> dressed as an npc catgirl hybrid and "nyaaing" at surrounding players.</li> <li><strong>5000 Ways to Die Game mode:</strong> One of the most difficult Maps in which the player must single-handedly defeat the entire mainbase team. Considered by most metagamers to be an “impossible troll level” by devs.</li> </ul> <p>Players aren't restricted to one Map, though their ability transport SCPs between different maps depends on their headcanon.<br/> In order to be able to participate in a battle, two players must agree on a headcanon for their SCP’s presence in the map they've scheduled to compete in. Bringing up technicalities or concerns about the plausibility of the battle and its attacks has historically made the <a href="http://05command.wikidot.com/disciplinary-main">in-game referees</a> incredibly upset.</p> <p>We recommend new users stick to battling people from the same baseline canon before exploring new maps or trying to create their own.</p> <h4 id="toc8"><span>Notable In-Game Locations and Departments:</span></h4> <p>Each map should have mostly the same sites, departments, or minigames. These locations can be set as one's home base:</p> <ul> <li><strong>Site-58:</strong>An ideal location for player characters possessing anomalous properties to go about their tasks without facing npcs and other metagamers. Location possesses the only doctorate program open to anomalous individuals. Completion of the program will grant the character "Researcher" status. <ul> <li>Site-58 also houses the popular "Squonk Catcher" minigame.</li> </ul> </li> <li><strong>Site-403:</strong> Currently only accessible to members MTF Phi-2 ("Clever Girls"). Despite the site containing functioning npcs, metagamers entering this area report several "Dinosaur-shaped holes" inside its containment chambers. It is believed the developer responsible for this site's implementation has yet to fully code it.</li> <li><strong>Site-666:</strong> <em>Not suitable for players under 18 years of age.</em></li> <li><strong>Department of Unreality:</strong> To access the Department of unreality, you'll need to purchase an Alex Thorley skin for your character. This may have some odd side effects on your character, such as a 1 in 7 chance of being dude-washed, multiple encounters with oneself, and repeated exposure to bagels.</li> <li><strong>Fire Suppression Department</strong> If you intend to change MTFs or abandon the SCP playerbase entirely, we recommend doing so early on, prior to completing any missions involving the Fire Suppression Department. If you ever encounter this department, you're best off keeping your head down and getting back to work.</li> </ul> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc9"><span><strong>SCP Types and Stats</strong></span></h2> </div> <h4 id="toc10"><span>Stats:</span></h4> <p>So! The basics, ey? Let’s start things real simple.</p> <p>Every SCP has stats, which determine its capability in combat! There are six stats: HP, Attack, Defense, Special Attack, Special Defense, and Speed. All of these combined make nearly every SCP unique in their abilities.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Stat</th> <th>Description</th> <th>Examples</th> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>HP</strong></td> <td>Determines how much health your anomaly has</td> <td><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-426">Me</a>- has one of the highest health stats out of all SCPs.</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Attack</strong></td> <td>determines damage an SCP can do with physical attacks. A higher attack stat boosts the base damage of a physical attack</td> <td>Cold Iron Sword, Megabyte, and Flail</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Special Attack</strong></td> <td>came into play during the physical/special split of Series Two- when moves were split into two categories. Special attacks can be seen as the more mystical or ranged ones</td> <td>Boomburst, Spoopy, or Dragon Dance</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Defense</strong></td> <td>CP’s resistance to physical damage. An SCP with a high defense stat - even if its HP stat is relatively low - can shrug off a physical attack like it’s nothing!</td> <td>N/A</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Special Defense</strong></td> <td>Similar to Special Attack, as it came into the meta during Series Two as part of the same split. This defense stat relates solely to damage done by special attacking moves.</td> <td>N/A</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Speed</strong></td> <td>Determines the turn order of the battle, the higher the stat the faster you are! If you have the highest speed stat on the battlefield, then it’s your move first, player!</td> <td>N/A</td> </tr> </table> <p>There are special items within the games- called memetics- that can be used to increase different stats in your SCP! They’re a little rare, often expensive, but can be quite useful!</p> <h4 id="toc11"><span>SCP Types</span></h4> <p>There are nine SCP types that exist within the game- each one relates to the moves that the SCP can learn, and most importantly- its strengths and weaknesses.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Type</th> <th>Super Effective Against</th> <th>Weak to</th> <th>Resistant too</th> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Mortal</strong></td> <td>Mineral</td> <td>Divine, Humor</td> <td>Mortal (Immunity), Dread</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Dread</strong></td> <td>Humor, Mortal, Divine, Metal</td> <td>Divine, Humor</td> <td>Nature, Auto</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Divine</strong></td> <td>Dread, Mortal</td> <td>Auto, Mineral, Grimdark</td> <td>Divine, Meta</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Auto</strong></td> <td>Divine, Humor</td> <td>Nature, Meta</td> <td>Mineral, Humor, Auto</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Mineral</strong></td> <td>Nature, Divine</td> <td>Mortal</td> <td>Auto</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Humor</strong></td> <td>Dread, Divine, Humor</td> <td>Humor, Auto, Grimdark</td> <td>None</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Nature</strong></td> <td>Auto, Grimdark</td> <td>Mineral</td> <td>Dread</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Grimdark</strong></td> <td>Humor, Divine</td> <td>Nature, Meta</td> <td>Mortal</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Meta</strong></td> <td>Grimdark, Auto</td> <td>Dread</td> <td>Mortal</td> </tr> </table> <p>Many SCPs are what’s known as dual types! This means they stack the strengths, weaknesses, and resistances of two types. Both weaknesses and strengths can be amplified, such as a dual-type Dread/Divine being 4 times weaker to Humor. However, if the two types have both resistance and weakness to the same type, these effects will cancel out, and your SCP will experience only neutral damage.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc12"><span><strong>SCP Battle Guide:</strong></span></h2> </div> <p>So, maybe your mission requires you to fight an NPC. Perhaps you encountered a wild-type SCP that you need to fight. Maybe another metagamer pissed you off and you impulsively challenged them to a duel. Either way, it's time for your SCP to battle. What do you do?</p> <h4 id="toc13"><span>Preparation:</span></h4> <ul> <li><strong>Pack all your essentials:</strong> You'll need enough food and water for both you and your SCP to make the journey to the battle site. If you can afford it, pay a specialized transport crew to take your SCP there, so as to not expend unneeded energy before the fight.</li> <li><strong>Healing Items and Powerups:</strong> Healing potions and XP boosters are the most helpful items you can have during a fight. Healing potions will restore your SCP to full HP while XP boosters amplify damage for the following round. These items are hard to come by, so take what you can get.</li> <li><strong>Provide rest the day prior:</strong> There's no bigger risk for an SCP battle champion than being overworked. Don't have your SCP train or fight at all the day prior to the scheduled battle, as this can stunt the growth and shorten lifespan.</li> <li><strong>Bring a backup:</strong> If you can, don't show up to the fighting ring with one SCP. Even your reigning champion can fall ill or injured. Besides- it'll be nice for your combatant to have a teammate for moral support!</li> </ul> <h4 id="toc14"><span>Combat Behavior:</span></h4> <p>Thankfully for you, all SCPs- wild or contained- abide by the same rules when it comes to battles. Here are the known phases of a battle researchers have observed in SCPs, both in nature and in human-controlled environments.</p> <ul> <li><strong>Phase I: Intimidation:</strong> SCPs will circle, size each other up, and put on an intimidation display. SCPs are normally unwilling to risk injury, but higher loyalty towards their trainer decreases the likelihood they'll be scared away by their opponent. These displays can last for several minutes, and in the wild, the weaker SCP will often retreat. But this is rarely the case in human-owned SCPs.</li> <li><strong>Phase II: Battle Rounds:</strong> If a fight seems inevitable, or at their trainer's prompting, an SCP will attack their opponent. SCPs with higher speed stats are more likely to strike first, after which SCPs will naturally take turns in launching attacks. Trainers have little control over the fight, other than verbal prompting. Each SCP's individual moves can be seen on its designated page. <ul> <li>Trainers can interfere to give their SCPs health potions, powerups, or other XP/HP modifiers, but this costs the SCP their turn.</li> <li>Trainers can almost always use a "heel" command to end the fight.</li> </ul> </li> <li><strong>Phase III: Retreat:</strong> SCPs rarely fight to the death, and they can sense when their HP has run dangerously low. Some SCPs, such as Shylet, almost never reach low HP due to their regenerative abilities, and will require trainer interference to end the fight. But for the vast majority of fights, one of the combatants will ultimately retreat.</li> <li><strong>Phase IV: Territorialism:</strong> Several SCPs, especially non-sentient or feral ones, will enter a territorial state after their opponent retreats, during which they will appear highly agitated. They will show aggression to any surrounding individuals, including their trainer. SCPs are likely to pace around and mark the surrounding areas. This phase can last from several minutes to several hours. Do not approach your SCP when it seems to be in this agitated state.</li> </ul> <p>Upon completion of your battle, provide your SCP with sufficient reward, rest, and reassurance. See the "Caring for your SCP" section for more information.</p> <h4 id="toc15"><span>The Highly-Debated Rage State:</span></h4> <p>Although it was a popular trait in Series I SCPs, several metagamers have argued against the inclusion of "Rage states" within their contained anomalies.</p> <p>For reference, a "Rage State" refers to behavior similar to that shown in Phase IV, except it would arise during a battle instead of after it. The Rage state reportedly causes an SCP to be impossible to control and has historically resulted in several in-game fatalities. Some SCPs in this state have gone as far as attacking nearby civilians.</p> <p>However, others argue that the rage state should be preserved, at least in older anomalies, to serve as a reminder of just how ruthless and violent SCP-based Combat can be.</p> <h4 id="toc16"><span>Evolution:</span></h4> <p>Let's say you've managed to capture two of one SCP. What are you supposed to do with your new friend? Sell them? Train them? Release them? All perfectly valid options, but perhaps not the most effective.</p> <p>Feeding your new friend to your original buddy can not only level them up, but is likely to allow your SCP to evolve into its next form! It's as simple as locking both little guys in the same containment chamber and allowing nature to take its course.</p> <p>SCP evolution is a highly debated topic since it's so rare for a trainer to catch <strong>two</strong> of the same SCP on one map. There aren't any catalogs or guides keeping track of SCP evolution. There are even doubts as to whether there's a limit to how many times you can evolve the same SCP. One theory goes that Resistile is simply a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7333">Busiguana</a> that was evolved one too many times by its trainer. Pretty sick!</p> <p>Regardless, do your own research for evolving SCPs, and let us know what you find out!</p> <h4 id="toc17"><span>Stat Improvement:</span></h4> <p>Aside from cannibalism, there are three other known ways to improve your SCP's stats.</p> <ul> <li><strong>Memetics (Skill-Boosting Items):</strong> These include toys and food items that can be collected as rewards from missions. Note that different items have different effects on different types of SCPs. For example, the "<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-504">Tomatality" food item</a>, given out as a reward during the "WOULD IT BE BETTER AS A -J?" Categorization Tournament, has been shown to increase the speed stats for Mortal-Types, increase strength for Dread-types, and permanently decreasing the HP of Humor-types.</li> <li><strong>Daily Training:</strong> Nothing beats consistency. Regular training with your SCP can give it +1 to +5 stats per day. Just be careful you don't overwork yourself or your companion!</li> <li><strong>Automation & Enhancement:</strong> Metagamers with connections to the "Anderson Robotics" or "Church of the Broken God" GoIs have an in-game option to automate themselves or their SCPs. Note that these procedures are often risky and come at a hefty cost, but can provide great gains in the short term.</li> </ul> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc18"><span><strong>Caring for contained anomalies</strong></span></h2> </div> <br/> Of course, while they’re is a lot of focus on the meta and battling, there are some funner ways to interact with your SCPs to help bolster their battle performance. These are based primarily on the "Friendship Mechanic." <p>The Friendship mechanic was introduced in Series II, and for a time it existed solely for leveling up Humor-type and Mortal-type SCPs. Almost all SCPs came with a base 70 Friendship, and any hatched would start with 120 Friendship. In-Game actions such as grooming, training, feeding, and leveling up would increase friendship stats.</p> <p>However, friendship stats could be lowered through the negligence of an SCP, such as overworking them, not providing consistent care, or giving them an HP-lowering item.</p> <p>Series V through VIII have given us more add-ons to the friendship mechanic.</p> <ul> <li>Series V: Higher friendship would increase the likelihood of: dodging attacks, critical hits, and surviving a 1 HP blow.</li> <li>Series VI would introduce <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1680">the bus minigames</a> that would reward you with D-Snacks! Feeding these to your SCPs would increase their affection.</li> <li>Series VII brought the post-battle-care minigame. Did your SCP get hit with a mineral-type move? They might be all dusty now! Take a brush and clean it all away, and your SCP will be feeling much better! Status effects can similarly be removed via this mechanic.</li> <li>Series VIII's minigame friendship mechanic additions have yet to be released.</li> </ul> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc19"><span><strong>Discovering and Capturing Anomalies</strong></span></h2> </div> <h4 id="toc20"><span>Capturing Pre-Cataloged SCPs</span></h4> <p>Here's the good thing about on-site SCPs: once you've caught and cataloged one, it becomes much easier to find and contain more of its kind. It also helps you, as a new player, know which SCPs are and aren't worth your time depending on the stats you're looking for and the team you're trying to build. Generally, an SCP's containment procedures will include directions to finding and capturing a wild type, but here are some general tips we'd like to recommend.</p> <ul> <li>Use D-Snacks for trapping carnivorous SCPs. As is commonly said, the "D" stands for Delightful! And your new buddy is sure to enjoy the little meal. It's the perfect bait!</li> <li>Don't be afraid to use lethal traps on regenerating SCPs. We get it, you don't want to hurt your new friend, and you're afraid they won't trust you anymore if you hurt them! But here's the thing, if you hurt them once and don't catch it the first time, that beastie is gonna recover back to full strength. And when it does, it may or may not be pissed that you just tried capturing it. It's better to take things slowly once your SCP is contained than risk your life to not anger your new friend just slightly more.</li> <li>Search for invasive species. Human interference in the SCP ecosystem has resulted in several anomalies ending up where they wouldn't naturally occur. In the aforementioned "Broken Masquerade Map," local ordinances are likely to offer monetary rewards for each invasive SCP a metagamer can successfully contain.</li> </ul> <h4 id="toc21"><span>Discovering a New SCP</span></h4> <p>Once in a blue moon, a metagamer may manage to capture an as-of-yet-undiscovered SCP. You'll have to run your own experiments to determine its stats, type, and most effective way to contain it. But once all that's said and done, you're going to want the glory of discovering the new beast. There's just a tiny problem, though-</p> <p>The metagame has been infested with Lepidoptera Scavenging Swarms, and they love to feast on the blood, sweat, and tears of new metagamers. Neither the site nor the discord catalog are safe from these swarms, known colloquially as "The Butterfly Squad" and "The Moth Squad".</p> <p>Fortunately, there's a simple way to defeat these foes. As a new player, you can use the in-game chat feature to talk with more experienced metagamers about the history, story, and abilities of your newly-captured SCP. Should one of these experienced metagamers take an interest to your anomaly, they will offer you a green torch. These green torches have been shown to bedazzle the butterflies and moths, and distract them from consuming your SCP. A minimum of two of these green torches are recommended so as to ensure the best results.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc22"><span><strong>Conclusions</strong></span></h2> </div> <br/> And that, newcomer, is the long and short of everything that you need to know! From the basic to the complex- from the mechanical to the aesthetic! Hopefully, this was able to help you further understand the metagame and general function of being a trainer. With this knowledge at your disposal, there's nothing stopping you! <p>Now fire up those containment units, rally your SCPs, and prepare yourself. A whole new world awaits you!</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/opusconfidant-orientation">OPUSCONFIDANT Orientation</a>" by Dino—Draws and Harmacy, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/opusconfidant-orientation">https://scpwiki.com/opusconfidant-orientation</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> opuslogo.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3781861); return false;"><img alt="EstrellaYoshte" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3781861&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730545460" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3781861)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3781861); return false;">EstrellaYoshte</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant-orientation">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:bedrock">:scp-wiki:theme:bedrock</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:opusconfidant-css">:scp-wiki:fragment:opusconfidant-css</a>]] > Disclaimer: The following guide was created by [[user Harmacy]] and [[user Dino--Draws]] for the SCP Foundation's 2023 April Fool's day event. It is not meant to serve as an official guide to any current on-site policies, but it might help you better understand any "OPUSCONFIDANT Metagame" articles you see. Please enjoy! [[=]] + OPUSCONFIDENT Orientation [[image opuslogo.png]] ++ A New Trainer's Guide to Capturing and Battling SCPs [[/=]] ------ Howdy there, trainer! You must be new here. On behalf of the OPUSCONFIDANT staff, I'd like to welcome you to the metagame. It seems like you've already picked your starter and avatar, so I'll give you a quick rundown of what this game is about. OPUSCONFIDANT is a worldwide metagame played by millions who seek to capture, train, and battle the oddities they see in the world. We refer to these entities as "Secured Combatative Peculiarities," or "SCPs" for short. This is an open-world universe where you can choose your role, anomalies, and mission, but most gameplay centers around player characters within the SCP Foundation. We'll discuss that part later. This OPUSCONFIDANT site was created in 2008 to archive all known SCPs, and it's grown to serve as a hub for some of the most proficient and renowned metagamers. This page is designed to help new players catch up on the metagame's heavy lore and history. Currently, we are in the metagame's eighth series. Since not all 8,000 anomalies have been cataloged yet, the starters for this generation have yet to be revealed. We recommend players start with one of the earlier series to learn the game's basics, before engaging with the more narratively complex generations. While you may face backlash from more experienced metagames for picking a starter from an earlier series, there's nothing wrong with starting small and working your way up! Every SCP generation, or "Series" as they're most commonly referred to, has had its own starters. The most popular starters are those from Series I, being [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-105 Shutterbug], [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-387 Legoliath], and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-999 Squishmaster]. Chances are your starter will have a "safe" containment tier, as these are generally the easiest to handle for new players, and the least likely to turn on their trainers. Your starter should be easy to train and contain using your pre-equipped snacks and home site. Once you contain an SCP, you and your companions will always spawn at your [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7001 default home site]. If you aren't a fan of Site-19, you can unlock new locations to set as your headquarters as you progress throughout the game. All that said, let's get started with discussing some of the game's deeper lore. ------ [[=]] ++ Determining your Affiliation and Team [[/=]] Although players all start out at the default home site at a standard level-one position, and you can work yourself up by individually containing and battling anomalies and in-game enemies, one of the fastest ways to maximize your stats and gain XP is by joining a team. ++++ MTFs If you wish to stay affiliated with the main Foundation player base, your best option for this is to join a Mobile Task Force, or "MTF". Each MTF has a specialty and purpose. Some are created to exclusively track, contain, and train one SCP, while others oversee several Foundation tasks and projects. As a general disclaimer, you are unlikely to get to keep the anomalies you contain while on an MTF mission, though you'll likely receive in-game rewards and items. Some of the best-Voted MTFs for new players are as follows: * MTF Alpha-4 ("Pony Express"): Team tasked with intercepting anomalies being sent between non-Foundation players. Shown to add a maximum of +25 Perception stats to the player character, and gives players a 1/15 chance of keeping the anomaly they secure. Will provide players with the "Formal Apologist" achievement should they recover [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-formal-apology a particular letter]. * [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/angle-grinders MTF Theta-90 ("Angle Grinders"):] For those metagamers seeking to learn about anomalies capable of altering topography and spacetime. Missions regularly end with in-game mechanics breaking, so high CPU is recommended. * MTF Zeta-9 ("Mole Rats"): Deals with tracking anomalies and phenomena in enclosed areas, often underground or in uninhabited regions. Greatly increases courage, speed, and perception stats. Allows players to participate in initial exploration logs. Carries a 23% fatality rate per mission. * MTF Mu-65 ("Clever Girls"): Great for players interested in prehistoric entities. Serving on this MTF for an in-game period of five years allows players a +10 bonus whenever trying to contain Nature-type SCPs. Also gives players early access to Site-403. * View the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/task-forces Task Forces] guide to see all MTFs currently accepting new members. ++++ GoIs Not all metagamers have found themselves wanting to play on the Foundation's team! Several have deserted and formed splinter organizations, known to main base players as 'GoIs'. Rarely are GoIs on positive terms with Foundation, and deserters might face hostility from Foundation-affiliated players. Below are some of the most important GOIs to learn about --and consider joining-- as a new player. * Serpent's Hand: Perhaps the most well-known and joined GoI, the Serpent's Hand and Wanderer's Library are romanticized by several metagamers for possessing so much in-game lore, worldbuilding, and knowledge. Accessing this location provides players the opportunity to maximize their intuition and wisdom stats, though this comes at the cost of relinquishing one's ability to contain SCPs, given the GoI's focus on anomalous rights. * Wilson's Wildlife Services: WWS focuses on elements of the game relating to SCP conservation and caretaking. This group is ideal for those who enjoy tap or clicker games, as players can simulate rescuing and tending to the needs of fantastical creatures on the mainbase map without having to worry about Foundation-affiliated players challenging or attacking them. In fact, main base players may relinquish lower-stat SCPs to WWS for the purposes of safekeeping. WWS is also known for housing the SCP feeding and cleaning minigames. * Marshall, Carter, & Dark: MC&D are represented in-game by three elderly balding men in sunglasses and gold suits. They have a 1/20 chance of appearing at the end of a battle or mission to challenge players for any rewards or anomalies they have collected. Players have the option of relinquishing their anomalies to MC&D, or partaking in a 1v3 battle to keep all their items. Please note leaving the primary SCP playerbase makes it impossible to rejoin, even with maximized charisma stats. You will likely need to create a new in-game character. ++++ Double-Dipping Some players have been rumored to successfully moonlight as a mainbase player while participating in a GoI. The most notable of these are some residents of the Wanderer's Library. Several high-profile mainbase players, such as [[user Rounderhouse]], [[user UncertaintyCrossing]], and [[user meltedbee]] have been accused of participating in a [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wanderers-library-hub separate metagame for their GoIs], unaffiliated with the Foundation site. Thus far, Mr. House and his associates have declined to comment. ------ [[=]] ++ Metagame Locations, Maps, and Questlines* [[/=]] With how diverse the metagame has gotten, different player-made plotlines and maps have naturally diverged. Unlike many other games, there is no solid boundary between maps. However, some SCPs can be restricted to one area of the metagame if their players' headcanon can't justify their existence outside a particular "Map". ++++ Maps A "Map" can refers to a specific "Canon", "Series", "Reality", or "Dimension". Some metagamers struggle to understand the difference between "Canons" and "Series". Canons are considered Open-World games that anyone can join, while a Series is restricted to specific metagamers and requires an access code. Some of the most well-known Maps are as follows. * Broken Masquerade Map: Perfect for metagamers and anomalies who'd like to game without worrying about veil-breaking consequences. However, the civilian interference factor and GoI capture risk are significantly higher. * War on All Fronts: Minor spats between metagamers regularly evolve into fully-blown kaiju fights. Game devs have thankfully banned most kaiju battles outside of this map, but be careful where you spawn. * As of 04/01/2023, the in-game betting system on kaiju fights was removed. * Stealing Solidarity Map: This map houses several metagamers enthused about the presence of canonical catgirls within the SCP universe. Many users regularly report seeing metagamers [[user basirskipreader]], [[user Prismal]], and [[user Insanitz]] dressed as an npc catgirl hybrid and "nyaaing" at surrounding players. 5000 Ways to Die Game mode: One of the most difficult Maps in which the player must single-handedly defeat the entire mainbase team. Considered by most metagamers to be an “impossible troll level” by devs. Players aren't restricted to one Map, though their ability transport SCPs between different maps depends on their headcanon. In order to be able to participate in a battle, two players must agree on a headcanon for their SCP’s presence in the map they've scheduled to compete in. Bringing up technicalities or concerns about the plausibility of the battle and its attacks has historically made the [http://05command.wikidot.com/disciplinary-main in-game referees] incredibly upset. We recommend new users stick to battling people from the same baseline canon before exploring new maps or trying to create their own. ++++ Notable In-Game Locations and Departments: Each map should have mostly the same sites, departments, or minigames. These locations can be set as one's home base: * Site-58:An ideal location for player characters possessing anomalous properties to go about their tasks without facing npcs and other metagamers. Location possesses the only doctorate program open to anomalous individuals. Completion of the program will grant the character "Researcher" status. * Site-58 also houses the popular "Squonk Catcher" minigame. * Site-403: Currently only accessible to members MTF Phi-2 ("Clever Girls"). Despite the site containing functioning npcs, metagamers entering this area report several "Dinosaur-shaped holes" inside its containment chambers. It is believed the developer responsible for this site's implementation has yet to fully code it. * Site-666: //Not suitable for players under 18 years of age.// * Department of Unreality: To access the Department of unreality, you'll need to purchase an Alex Thorley skin for your character. This may have some odd side effects on your character, such as a 1 in 7 chance of being dude-washed, multiple encounters with oneself, and repeated exposure to bagels. * Fire Suppression Department If you intend to change MTFs or abandon the SCP playerbase entirely, we recommend doing so early on, prior to completing any missions involving the Fire Suppression Department. If you ever encounter this department, you're best off keeping your head down and getting back to work. ------ [[=]] ++ SCP Types and Stats [[/=]] ++++ Stats: So! The basics, ey? Let’s start things real simple. Every SCP has stats, which determine its capability in combat! There are six stats: HP, Attack, Defense, Special Attack, Special Defense, and Speed. All of these combined make nearly every SCP unique in their abilities. \|\|~ Stat\|\|~ Description\|\|~ Examples\|\| \|\| HP \|\| Determines how much health your anomaly has \|\| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-426 Me]- has one of the highest health stats out of all SCPs. \|\| \|\| Attack \|\| determines damage an SCP can do with physical attacks. A higher attack stat boosts the base damage of a physical attack \|\| Cold Iron Sword, Megabyte, and Flail \|\| \|\| Special Attack \|\| came into play during the physical/special split of Series Two- when moves were split into two categories. Special attacks can be seen as the more mystical or ranged ones \|\| Boomburst, Spoopy, or Dragon Dance \|\| \|\| Defense \|\| CP’s resistance to physical damage. An SCP with a high defense stat - even if its HP stat is relatively low - can shrug off a physical attack like it’s nothing! \|\| N/A \|\| \|\| Special Defense \|\| Similar to Special Attack, as it came into the meta during Series Two as part of the same split. This defense stat relates solely to damage done by special attacking moves. \|\| N/A \|\| \|\| Speed \|\| Determines the turn order of the battle, the higher the stat the faster you are! If you have the highest speed stat on the battlefield, then it’s your move first, player! \|\| N/A \|\| There are special items within the games- called memetics- that can be used to increase different stats in your SCP! They’re a little rare, often expensive, but can be quite useful! ++++ SCP Types There are nine SCP types that exist within the game- each one relates to the moves that the SCP can learn, and most importantly- its strengths and weaknesses. \|\|~ Type\|\|~ Super Effective Against\|\|~ Weak to\|\|~ Resistant too\|\| \|\| Mortal \|\| Mineral \|\| Divine, Humor \|\| Mortal (Immunity), Dread \|\| \|\| Dread \|\| Humor, Mortal, Divine, Metal \|\| Divine, Humor \|\| Nature, Auto \|\| \|\| Divine \|\| Dread, Mortal \|\| Auto, Mineral, Grimdark \|\| Divine, Meta \|\| \|\| Auto \|\| Divine, Humor \|\| Nature, Meta \|\| Mineral, Humor, Auto \|\| \|\| Mineral \|\| Nature, Divine \|\| Mortal \|\| Auto \|\| \|\| Humor \|\| Dread, Divine, Humor \|\| Humor, Auto, Grimdark \|\| None \|\| \|\| Nature \|\| Auto, Grimdark \|\| Mineral \|\| Dread \|\| \|\| Grimdark \|\| Humor, Divine \|\| Nature, Meta \|\| Mortal \|\| \|\| Meta \|\| Grimdark, Auto \|\| Dread \|\| Mortal \|\| Many SCPs are what’s known as dual types! This means they stack the strengths, weaknesses, and resistances of two types. Both weaknesses and strengths can be amplified, such as a dual-type Dread/Divine being 4 times weaker to Humor. However, if the two types have both resistance and weakness to the same type, these effects will cancel out, and your SCP will experience only neutral damage. ------ [[=]] ++ SCP Battle Guide: [[/=]] So, maybe your mission requires you to fight an NPC. Perhaps you encountered a wild-type SCP that you need to fight. Maybe another metagamer pissed you off and you impulsively challenged them to a duel. Either way, it's time for your SCP to battle. What do you do? ++++ Preparation: * Pack all your essentials: You'll need enough food and water for both you and your SCP to make the journey to the battle site. If you can afford it, pay a specialized transport crew to take your SCP there, so as to not expend unneeded energy before the fight. * Healing Items and Powerups: Healing potions and XP boosters are the most helpful items you can have during a fight. Healing potions will restore your SCP to full HP while XP boosters amplify damage for the following round. These items are hard to come by, so take what you can get. * Provide rest the day prior: There's no bigger risk for an SCP battle champion than being overworked. Don't have your SCP train or fight at all the day prior to the scheduled battle, as this can stunt the growth and shorten lifespan. * Bring a backup: If you can, don't show up to the fighting ring with one SCP. Even your reigning champion can fall ill or injured. Besides- it'll be nice for your combatant to have a teammate for moral support! ++++ Combat Behavior: Thankfully for you, all SCPs- wild or contained- abide by the same rules when it comes to battles. Here are the known phases of a battle researchers have observed in SCPs, both in nature and in human-controlled environments. * Phase I: Intimidation: SCPs will circle, size each other up, and put on an intimidation display. SCPs are normally unwilling to risk injury, but higher loyalty towards their trainer decreases the likelihood they'll be scared away by their opponent. These displays can last for several minutes, and in the wild, the weaker SCP will often retreat. But this is rarely the case in human-owned SCPs. * Phase II: Battle Rounds: If a fight seems inevitable, or at their trainer's prompting, an SCP will attack their opponent. SCPs with higher speed stats are more likely to strike first, after which SCPs will naturally take turns in launching attacks. Trainers have little control over the fight, other than verbal prompting. Each SCP's individual moves can be seen on its designated page. * Trainers can interfere to give their SCPs health potions, powerups, or other XP/HP modifiers, but this costs the SCP their turn. * Trainers can almost always use a "heel" command to end the fight. * Phase III: Retreat: SCPs rarely fight to the death, and they can sense when their HP has run dangerously low. Some SCPs, such as Shylet, almost never reach low HP due to their regenerative abilities, and will require trainer interference to end the fight. But for the vast majority of fights, one of the combatants will ultimately retreat. * Phase IV: Territorialism: Several SCPs, especially non-sentient or feral ones, will enter a territorial state after their opponent retreats, during which they will appear highly agitated. They will show aggression to any surrounding individuals, including their trainer. SCPs are likely to pace around and mark the surrounding areas. This phase can last from several minutes to several hours. Do not approach your SCP when it seems to be in this agitated state. Upon completion of your battle, provide your SCP with sufficient reward, rest, and reassurance. See the "Caring for your SCP" section for more information. ++++ The Highly-Debated Rage State: Although it was a popular trait in Series I SCPs, several metagamers have argued against the inclusion of "Rage states" within their contained anomalies. For reference, a "Rage State" refers to behavior similar to that shown in Phase IV, except it would arise during a battle instead of after it. The Rage state reportedly causes an SCP to be impossible to control and has historically resulted in several in-game fatalities. Some SCPs in this state have gone as far as attacking nearby civilians. However, others argue that the rage state should be preserved, at least in older anomalies, to serve as a reminder of just how ruthless and violent SCP-based Combat can be. ++++ Evolution: Let's say you've managed to capture two of one SCP. What are you supposed to do with your new friend? Sell them? Train them? Release them? All perfectly valid options, but perhaps not the most effective. Feeding your new friend to your original buddy can not only level them up, but is likely to allow your SCP to evolve into its next form! It's as simple as locking both little guys in the same containment chamber and allowing nature to take its course. SCP evolution is a highly debated topic since it's so rare for a trainer to catch two of the same SCP on one map. There aren't any catalogs or guides keeping track of SCP evolution. There are even doubts as to whether there's a limit to how many times you can evolve the same SCP. One theory goes that Resistile is simply a [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7333 Busiguana] that was evolved one too many times by its trainer. Pretty sick! Regardless, do your own research for evolving SCPs, and let us know what you find out! ++++ Stat Improvement: Aside from cannibalism, there are three other known ways to improve your SCP's stats. * Memetics (Skill-Boosting Items): These include toys and food items that can be collected as rewards from missions. Note that different items have different effects on different types of SCPs. For example, the "[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-504 Tomatality" food item], given out as a reward during the "WOULD IT BE BETTER AS A -J?" Categorization Tournament, has been shown to increase the speed stats for Mortal-Types, increase strength for Dread-types, and permanently decreasing the HP of Humor-types. * Daily Training: Nothing beats consistency. Regular training with your SCP can give it +1 to +5 stats per day. Just be careful you don't overwork yourself or your companion! * Automation & Enhancement: Metagamers with connections to the "Anderson Robotics" or "Church of the Broken God" GoIs have an in-game option to automate themselves or their SCPs. Note that these procedures are often risky and come at a hefty cost, but can provide great gains in the short term. ------ [[=]] ++ Caring for contained anomalies [[/=]] Of course, while they’re is a lot of focus on the meta and battling, there are some funner ways to interact with your SCPs to help bolster their battle performance. These are based primarily on the "Friendship Mechanic." The Friendship mechanic was introduced in Series II, and for a time it existed solely for leveling up Humor-type and Mortal-type SCPs. Almost all SCPs came with a base 70 Friendship, and any hatched would start with 120 Friendship. In-Game actions such as grooming, training, feeding, and leveling up would increase friendship stats. However, friendship stats could be lowered through the negligence of an SCP, such as overworking them, not providing consistent care, or giving them an HP-lowering item. Series V through VIII have given us more add-ons to the friendship mechanic. * Series V: Higher friendship would increase the likelihood of: dodging attacks, critical hits, and surviving a 1 HP blow. * Series VI would introduce [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1680 the bus minigames] that would reward you with D-Snacks! Feeding these to your SCPs would increase their affection. * Series VII brought the post-battle-care minigame. Did your SCP get hit with a mineral-type move? They might be all dusty now! Take a brush and clean it all away, and your SCP will be feeling much better! Status effects can similarly be removed via this mechanic. * Series VIII's minigame friendship mechanic additions have yet to be released. ------ [[=]] ++ Discovering and Capturing Anomalies [[/=]] ++++ Capturing Pre-Cataloged SCPs Here's the good thing about on-site SCPs: once you've caught and cataloged one, it becomes much easier to find and contain more of its kind. It also helps you, as a new player, know which SCPs are and aren't worth your time depending on the stats you're looking for and the team you're trying to build. Generally, an SCP's containment procedures will include directions to finding and capturing a wild type, but here are some general tips we'd like to recommend. * Use D-Snacks for trapping carnivorous SCPs. As is commonly said, the "D" stands for Delightful! And your new buddy is sure to enjoy the little meal. It's the perfect bait! * Don't be afraid to use lethal traps on regenerating SCPs. We get it, you don't want to hurt your new friend, and you're afraid they won't trust you anymore if you hurt them! But here's the thing, if you hurt them once and don't catch it the first time, that beastie is gonna recover back to full strength. And when it does, it may or may not be pissed that you just tried capturing it. It's better to take things slowly once your SCP is contained than risk your life to not anger your new friend just slightly more. * Search for invasive species. Human interference in the SCP ecosystem has resulted in several anomalies ending up where they wouldn't naturally occur. In the aforementioned "Broken Masquerade Map," local ordinances are likely to offer monetary rewards for each invasive SCP a metagamer can successfully contain. ++++ Discovering a New SCP Once in a blue moon, a metagamer may manage to capture an as-of-yet-undiscovered SCP. You'll have to run your own experiments to determine its stats, type, and most effective way to contain it. But once all that's said and done, you're going to want the glory of discovering the new beast. There's just a tiny problem, though- The metagame has been infested with Lepidoptera Scavenging Swarms, and they love to feast on the blood, sweat, and tears of new metagamers. Neither the site nor the discord catalog are safe from these swarms, known colloquially as "The Butterfly Squad" and "The Moth Squad". Fortunately, there's a simple way to defeat these foes. As a new player, you can use the in-game chat feature to talk with more experienced metagamers about the history, story, and abilities of your newly-captured SCP. Should one of these experienced metagamers take an interest to your anomaly, they will offer you a green torch. These green torches have been shown to bedazzle the butterflies and moths, and distract them from consuming your SCP. A minimum of two of these green torches are recommended so as to ensure the best results. ------ [[=]] ++ Conclusions [[/=]] And that, newcomer, is the long and short of everything that you need to know! From the basic to the complex- from the mechanical to the aesthetic! Hopefully, this was able to help you further understand the metagame and general function of being a trainer. With this knowledge at your disposal, there's nothing stopping you! Now fire up those containment units, rally your SCPs, and prepare yourself. A whole new world awaits you! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Dino--Draws and Harmacy]] ===== > Filename: opuslogo.png > Author: [[user EstrellaYoshte]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant-orientation SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-02T01:45:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "alternate-history", "comedy", "orientation", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	OPUSCONFIDANT Orientation - SCP Foundation	46	[ "scp-105", "scp-387", "scp-999", "scp-7001", "a-formal-apology", "system:page-tags/tag/angle-grinders", "task-forces", "wanderers-library-hub", "scp-426", "scp-7333", "scp-504", "scp-1680", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "april-fools-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/opusconfidant-orientation/opuslogo.png" ]	1447102093	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant-orientation
orange-colored-sky-1	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Rebecca Vanko had been working this job for the past six months and it was just not working out. Signing up for this gig had been about hunting down creatures that exist outside the hierarchical classifications of science. It was NOT supposed to be about giving tours to rich mythology enthusiasts and it definitely wasn’t about unclogging toilets or keeping all-night vigils for chupacabra droppings.</p> <p>The pay was terrible, the benefits actually made your life worse, and it was nigh-impossible to get Swamp Ape stink out of a uniform. It was a great indignity, given they aren’t even real bigfeet. Given all of that, to find anyone toiling away in Marcus Ingram Special Preserve, known colloquially as the “MISP” was finding someone at a particularly deep valley inside the lowest point of their lives. Despite the fact that it was never lacking for applicants. It was a shit job, but it was a job. A rare thing to come by in this economy.</p> <p>There were enough bougie business boys behind the veil to pay a group like MISP to see the things which should not be seen, in a controlled environment where they could have all the same thrills the normies get at Disney Land. Drunk tourists with wads of money spilling out of their pockets, asking for directions to see ”a real Bigfoot.” That was the first thing they asked, but unfortunately those specimens have never fared well in captivity. That hasn’t stopped the field warders from trying, but there hadn’t been any kind of Sasquatch in the MISP since 1994. A skunk ape made for a poor substitute, given that they stink to high heaven and looked like little more than overgrown monkeys. It’s the furthest thing from Bigfoot. They don’t even smell like feet.</p> <p>The most popular attraction was, by far, the pool of many things. It was a reflection of happenings in other worlds, possibilities and realities that never realized themselves on this timeline. Usually the scenes had absolutely no pertinence to the viewer, even when they did it would only be to notice or remark on some locality that was familiar to them. Events on display were a random sampling of infinite possibilities across time and space. Banality is the glue holding up the wallpaper of the universe, peering in this pool was like watching it dry.</p> <p>There were also some stuffed specimens, Rebecca’s favorite was the fake Barnum & Bailey mermaid. A monkey sewn onto a fish was a lot more creative than what really went bump in the night. This is what Rebecca was looking at when the latest drunk tourist grasped her by the shoulder.</p> <p>“Excuse me miss- I mean sir- I mean, uh, whatever, hey, you know where the fuckinmnuhm, the hairy guy, you know, with the fuckin’ toes and shit I guess.”</p> <p>Brushing his hand off her shoulder, Rebecca found herself looking into the eyes of yet another West Coast frat boy with too much of his parent’s money and time on his hands. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt so garish it would make Jimmy Buffet blush, half-gelled hair, and Crocs, he was the very model of a modern major male-brained douche. Sighing, Rebecca rolled out a well-trained script.</p> <p>“While we don’t keep any Sasquatch specimens in captivity, due to issues with the species living in confinement, we do have a close cousin which you can-”</p> <p>Staggering, the young man pulled a hitherto unseen plastic cup from behind him seemingly for the specific purpose of spilling a foul-smelling brown beverage onto Rebecca’s uniform. “Naw, dawg, I seen’t it on Facebloc, you got them hidden up behind these things and s’a big ol’ secret you gotta show me I give you a hundo if you do.” Jamming a hand into his pocket, the man produced a pile of receipts and pocket lint with a few large bills interspersed within.</p> <p>“No, I’m good. Like I said, we don’t have any in captivity. Whatever you read online is erroneous. Now, I can direct you to the skunk ape exhi-”</p> <p>Before finishing her sentence, Rebecca felt a hard shove in her chest. Stumbling backwards, she caught herself as the man put himself inches away from her face.</p> <p>“You stupid trangoy bastards, s’always the same shit! I go to parties, tryin’ to trick me by being all pretty and shit but I know! You’re a man with a big ol’ weiner. You fucking freak. I’ll be waiting for you after ya lying sack of-”</p> <p>The man may have intended to go on, as so many others had before, but that was when Rebecca hit him hard enough that he temporarily connected to heaven’s Wi-Fi.</p> <hr/> <p>It had been a good run.</p> <p>Trying to keep an eye on the road, Rebecca ran through her finances in her head. There would be one more paycheck coming from this job, probably no severance pay, minus the cost of laundering the uniform. With that, if she went to the soup kitchen on Wednesday, she would have just barely enough to pay rent that month.</p> <p>After that, who knows what might happen. There was still the back rent she owed. It’s not like her roommate would keep spotting her forever. They weren’t exactly chummy so pushing her any further might lead to trouble. The last thing anyone needs after losing their job is to have interpersonal conflict in the home. But thinking about that could wait until she actually got there.</p> <p>Traffic in Neo-Portland was terrible this time of year, same as it ever was. They had just shut down the Charles Piggott Memorial Bridge for emergency repairs so everyone had to brave the side streets. Two-lane roads jammed with vehicles of every shape, size, and color. Automobiles, bikes, trucks, unicycles, Segways, skaters and skateboarders surfed from car top to truck bed as they flowed over top of her. Rebecca envied their freedom.</p> <p>There were posters lining the brick walls on either side of the gridlock. No matter what side of the veil you lived on, politicians knew how to take advantage of a captive audience. A lot of the posters were laid over-top one another, but Rebecca could see the glossy portrait of Mayor Chester G. Randall Jr. peered out more often than any others. A clean shaven, smiling white face with the slogan “A Timecrowave in Every Kitchen” plastered underneath it, a thousand pairs of eyes cheerfully glaring every few feet.</p> <p>Pulling off to her exit, Rebecca shook her head. Why anyone bothered trying to compete with Mayor Chet and his political machine was beyond her. Between the lower classes loving him for bread and circuses, and the upper classes loving him for keeping the lower classes too occupied to consider eating them instead, there wasn’t really a lot of room for anyone stuck in the middle to do anything about him. But that was a problem for her in the abstract. The real problem at hand was all of her possessions were lying in a heap outside her apartment building.</p> <p>Slamming the car door shut, not even bothering to park straight, Rebecca ran and began inspecting her belongings. Clothing was fine, but anything that would be damaged after falling off a balcony had been so damaged. Cursing, she began to sort through it all.</p> <p>“Sorry! It just wasn’t working out.”</p> <p>Looking up, Rebecca saw her apparently now ex-roommate standing on the balcony of the apartment they had been sharing. “What do you mean?”</p> <p>“Look, you were two months behind on rent. I’ve been paying for this place myself, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought. So, I don’t really need you. Locks are changed. You’ll be off the lease by next week. Bye!”</p> <p>Before Rebecca could respond, her roommate had turned back into the apartment they once shared and was gone. Collapsing onto her pile of things, Rebecca was already sobbing. How could this day get any worse?</p> <p>It was at that moment, as if waiting on a cue, that the sun went out.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« \| <em>Orange Colored Sky</em> \| <a href="/orange-colored-sky-2">Chapter Two</a> »</strong></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/orange-colored-sky-1">long journey on rubber and iron, beating the asphalt back down into the dirt you rose up from</a>" by good_vibrations, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/orange-colored-sky-1">https://scpwiki.com/orange-colored-sky-1</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Rebecca Vanko had been working this job for the past six months and it was just not working out. Signing up for this gig had been about hunting down creatures that exist outside the hierarchical classifications of science. It was NOT supposed to be about giving tours to rich mythology enthusiasts and it definitely wasn’t about unclogging toilets or keeping all-night vigils for chupacabra droppings. The pay was terrible, the benefits actually made your life worse, and it was nigh-impossible to get Swamp Ape stink out of a uniform. It was a great indignity, given they aren’t even real bigfeet. Given all of that, to find anyone toiling away in Marcus Ingram Special Preserve, known colloquially as the “MISP” was finding someone at a particularly deep valley inside the lowest point of their lives. Despite the fact that it was never lacking for applicants. It was a shit job, but it was a job. A rare thing to come by in this economy. There were enough bougie business boys behind the veil to pay a group like MISP to see the things which should not be seen, in a controlled environment where they could have all the same thrills the normies get at Disney Land. Drunk tourists with wads of money spilling out of their pockets, asking for directions to see ”a real Bigfoot.” That was the first thing they asked, but unfortunately those specimens have never fared well in captivity. That hasn’t stopped the field warders from trying, but there hadn’t been any kind of Sasquatch in the MISP since 1994. A skunk ape made for a poor substitute, given that they stink to high heaven and looked like little more than overgrown monkeys. It’s the furthest thing from Bigfoot. They don’t even smell like feet. The most popular attraction was, by far, the pool of many things. It was a reflection of happenings in other worlds, possibilities and realities that never realized themselves on this timeline. Usually the scenes had absolutely no pertinence to the viewer, even when they did it would only be to notice or remark on some locality that was familiar to them. Events on display were a random sampling of infinite possibilities across time and space. Banality is the glue holding up the wallpaper of the universe, peering in this pool was like watching it dry. There were also some stuffed specimens, Rebecca’s favorite was the fake Barnum & Bailey mermaid. A monkey sewn onto a fish was a lot more creative than what really went bump in the night. This is what Rebecca was looking at when the latest drunk tourist grasped her by the shoulder. “Excuse me miss- I mean sir- I mean, uh, whatever, hey, you know where the fuckinmnuhm, the hairy guy, you know, with the fuckin’ toes and shit I guess.” Brushing his hand off her shoulder, Rebecca found herself looking into the eyes of yet another West Coast frat boy with too much of his parent’s money and time on his hands. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt so garish it would make Jimmy Buffet blush, half-gelled hair, and Crocs, he was the very model of a modern major male-brained douche. Sighing, Rebecca rolled out a well-trained script. “While we don’t keep any Sasquatch specimens in captivity, due to issues with the species living in confinement, we do have a close cousin which you can-” Staggering, the young man pulled a hitherto unseen plastic cup from behind him seemingly for the specific purpose of spilling a foul-smelling brown beverage onto Rebecca’s uniform. “Naw, dawg, I seen’t it on Facebloc, you got them hidden up behind these things and s’a big ol’ secret you gotta show me I give you a hundo if you do.” Jamming a hand into his pocket, the man produced a pile of receipts and pocket lint with a few large bills interspersed within. “No, I’m good. Like I said, we don’t have any in captivity. Whatever you read online is erroneous. Now, I can direct you to the skunk ape exhi-” Before finishing her sentence, Rebecca felt a hard shove in her chest. Stumbling backwards, she caught herself as the man put himself inches away from her face. “You stupid trangoy bastards, s’always the same shit! I go to parties, tryin’ to trick me by being all pretty and shit but I know! You’re a man with a big ol’ weiner. You fucking freak. I’ll be waiting for you after ya lying sack of-” The man may have intended to go on, as so many others had before, but that was when Rebecca hit him hard enough that he temporarily connected to heaven’s Wi-Fi. ---- It had been a good run. Trying to keep an eye on the road, Rebecca ran through her finances in her head. There would be one more paycheck coming from this job, probably no severance pay, minus the cost of laundering the uniform. With that, if she went to the soup kitchen on Wednesday, she would have just barely enough to pay rent that month. After that, who knows what might happen. There was still the back rent she owed. It’s not like her roommate would keep spotting her forever. They weren’t exactly chummy so pushing her any further might lead to trouble. The last thing anyone needs after losing their job is to have interpersonal conflict in the home. But thinking about that could wait until she actually got there. Traffic in Neo-Portland was terrible this time of year, same as it ever was. They had just shut down the Charles Piggott Memorial Bridge for emergency repairs so everyone had to brave the side streets. Two-lane roads jammed with vehicles of every shape, size, and color. Automobiles, bikes, trucks, unicycles, Segways, skaters and skateboarders surfed from car top to truck bed as they flowed over top of her. Rebecca envied their freedom. There were posters lining the brick walls on either side of the gridlock. No matter what side of the veil you lived on, politicians knew how to take advantage of a captive audience. A lot of the posters were laid over-top one another, but Rebecca could see the glossy portrait of Mayor Chester G. Randall Jr. peered out more often than any others. A clean shaven, smiling white face with the slogan “A Timecrowave in Every Kitchen” plastered underneath it, a thousand pairs of eyes cheerfully glaring every few feet. Pulling off to her exit, Rebecca shook her head. Why anyone bothered trying to compete with Mayor Chet and his political machine was beyond her. Between the lower classes loving him for bread and circuses, and the upper classes loving him for keeping the lower classes too occupied to consider eating them instead, there wasn’t really a lot of room for anyone stuck in the middle to do anything about him. But that was a problem for her in the abstract. The real problem at hand was all of her possessions were lying in a heap outside her apartment building. Slamming the car door shut, not even bothering to park straight, Rebecca ran and began inspecting her belongings. Clothing was fine, but anything that would be damaged after falling off a balcony had been so damaged. Cursing, she began to sort through it all. “Sorry! It just wasn’t working out.” Looking up, Rebecca saw her apparently now ex-roommate standing on the balcony of the apartment they had been sharing. “What do you mean?” “Look, you were two months behind on rent. I’ve been paying for this place myself, and it wasn’t as hard as I thought. So, I don’t really need you. Locks are changed. You’ll be off the lease by next week. Bye!” Before Rebecca could respond, her roommate had turned back into the apartment they once shared and was gone. Collapsing onto her pile of things, Rebecca was already sobbing. How could this day get any worse? It was at that moment, as if waiting on a cue, that the sun went out. = << \| //Orange Colored Sky// \| [[[orange-colored-sky-2\| Chapter Two]]] >> [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=good_vibrations]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-21T16:08:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	long journey on rubber and iron, beating the asphalt back down into the dirt you rose up from - SCP Foundation	12	[ "orange-colored-sky-2", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449103953	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orange-colored-sky-1
orange-colored-sky-2	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Absent the sun, capsule hotels are a valuable piece of real estate. Guests don’t miss out on anything when the view through any given porthole is pitch blackness, or for a lucky few, the fleeting flash of the curfew copter searchlight. LED headlights, eat your heart out. The Pillbug Hotel in downtown Neo-Portland had clairvoyant foresight when they installed ultraviolet lights in their ‘rooms’ a few weeks before the Great Switch had been flipped. A little bit of sun in every room and all. Now they were raking in the big bucks. Rebecca Vance had been lucky to scrape together the last of her savings for a week’s worth of sleep time. It was the cheapest option available, had taken all the money she had left, and now there was a week to figure out how to avoid homelessness. No problem here.</p> <p>At least Rebecca wasn’t the only one forlornly gazing into the abyss. Even punky transfemme computer programmers were struggling to make ends meet. She’d been reconnecting with an old friend from college Ophelia Venturo. Back when the stars were in proper alignment they’d gone to the same college before taking highly divergent life paths. Ophie went into computer science and made enough money to be sitting pretty on California Island. Meanwhile, Rebecca had moved into a world where giant pulsating eyeballs roamed the streets to avoid student debt collectors. So there was a part of her which relished seeing someone who had flown to such highs brought down to her level. But, that wasn’t really something she brought up when they talked.</p> <p>Staring at her cracked phone screen, Rebecca shifted her weight in the capsule. It was just barely large enough to accommodate her body and the suitcase she used as a combination pillow/dresser/nightstand/emergency flotation device. She spoke in a light whisper, anything heavier would bounce around the ‘room’ making everything else inaudible.</p> <p>“So are the 2020’s just going to be the most busted decade on record, or do you think there’s anything that can come along to salvage it?”</p> <p>Rebecca’s phone screen lit up, adjusting its brightness and broadcasting in unison as a faint monotone voice replied “Who the hell knows, Beccs. There’s enough time to make things better. But there is an equal amount of time for more things to go badly. Given that we’ve had a global pandemic, all the rain ran red, and now the sun’s gone missing, we seem to be getting a new-age remix of the old ten plagues of Egypt.”</p> <p>“I’m just mostly afraid because nothing’s been bad enough to make things really… fall apart. Like, I can still get another job. Most places are more or less still open. They didn’t even make the bus free if you’re going downtown on weekdays. But there’s more shoes that could drop, you know? What’s gonna be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, if knocking out the sun isn’t going to be the <em>coup de grâce</em>?”</p> <p>“Yeah. Equal time to get better or worse. Using the past as a predictor at this point feels naive.”</p> <p>Rebecca scoffed. “Unless you’re betting on things somehow getting even worse. You’ll make your money back every time on that one.”</p> <p>There was a sigh, conjuring the image of the veins on the underside of Ophelia's eyeballs. “If we’re playing oddsmaker bookie bingo, you’d always get the crap odds there. It’s like betting on Serena winning at Wimbledon or the Shackletons losing the Under-World Series.”</p> <p>Rolling over to her belly, Rebecca leaned her head over her phone to trap it between her ear and shoulder. “Hey. A wise jerk once said, past is fucking prologue. This has to be when the veil finally unravels right? How the hell are they going to keep people from noticing the damned sun not rising?”</p> <p>She could hear the sound of chewing from the other end of the phone. It made every muscle in her body tense but she didn’t say anything. Last time she’d said something Ophelia had gotten huffy and it had been a Whole Thing. If she was in a good mood tonight, Rebecca knew better than to spoil it.</p> <p>“You know…<em>crunch, crunch</em>… I thought I would get more out of knowing what’s real. Being behind the veil. But I’d be happier if I were still plodding along ignorantly, there’s some artificial satellite sun keeping the normies in the metaphorical dark. If they don’t figure it out soon, and I’m sure the astronomers already know something’s fucked, everyone’s gonna have a lot more broken bones and dead plants in the future.” There was a faint swallowing. “Bought them some time, at least.”</p> <p>“Good for them. They can honestly do whatever they want. In a few months or years I’ll start worrying about my vitamin D, if any of us manage to survive this long-term, but for now I need a damn job. You wouldn’t happen to have any leads on that wouldja?”</p> <p>“I don’t think anything I could show would be anything you’re qualified for. I mean, no offense, but you’re not even a script kiddie. If someone asked you about chips you’d probably think they were talking about doritos. But…”</p> <p>“Yes, I too listen to Weird Al.”</p> <p>“Shut up. Do you want my help or not? I’ve got one thing that might be up your alley. I know you’re not usually in the business of being an errand boy, but-”</p> <p>“I’m not interested in being a boy, period.”</p> <p>“Shut the fuck, shut up, shut the fuck up. Respectfully. I got offered a courier gig about a week after the big switch in the sky got flipped. I don’t like to go anywhere to do things but if you’re really desperate, it’s something.”</p> <p>“I hate myself for saying this, but you think you could text me the deets?”</p> <p>“For a dollar.”</p> <p>“Ophie, I thought we weren’t fucking around?”</p> <p>“You started it. I think I’m gonna wrap myself in blankets and watch YouTube while telling myself that I’m trying to sleep, but I’ll text it to you.”</p> <p>“If you see any of those good good axolotl videos I like, send those too?”</p> <p>“If you want.”</p> <p>The phone screen dimmed as the call ended. Resting it on her chest, Rebecca sighed. Courier work was meant for zoomers on hoverboards hurling harpoons into hapless passing vehicles. She couldn’t even afford a board, let alone the metal. Still, it was probably her best lead since she’d promoted herself to customer. What a bad day. What an awful mess all of this was. Ever since, her resting heartbeat had been stressed.</p> <p>The phone buzzed, sliding off her chest. Fumbling in the dark for her phone before clicking it on, Rebecca began reading Ophelia’s text.</p> <p><tt>Warehouse at Park and Uderzo. Go there tonight if you’re interested, ask for Checkers.</tt></p> <p><em>Checkers?</em> Rebecca let the name roll through her head as she gathered her things and poured out of her sleeping tube. Sounded too wholesome for a shady delivery job. Maybe that made more sense that way. After all, who were the pigs going to chase after first, someone with a nickname like Slippin’ Timmy or the regular guy going by Checkers? One can only imagine how deep the nickname presumption arms race could go. Rebecca would not be imagining it.</p> <p>Stepping out of the hotel, cold night air flowing through her dress and hair, Rebecca began fiddling with her phone and headphones to play some music while she walked. Settling on some goth pop, she started her walk down the block. The big orange streetlights hummed overhead, illuminating the large open plaza in front of the nearby Government House. Old-fashioned lights, always a step behind where the world in front of the veil was. Infrastructural hand-me-downs.</p> <p>Behind Government House was a graveyard, which Rebecca had always found fitting. The building had originally been a church, with raised ceilings inside and some kind of neo-gothic architectural shtick going on while the outside was your everyday brutalist concrete building. The graveyard was a shortcut to Park street, so Rebecca walked through the wrought-iron gates inside.</p> <p>It was always a pleasant place to be. Few others enjoyed the space so it was almost always deserted. Ironically the last place you’d expect to run into a deranged mugger or some desperate sap in an orange jumpsuit. Most of the graves were older, covered with moss and overgrown by vines. But there were still a few visible, mostly on more recent fare. Passing one by, Rebecca could make out a short inscription: <em>Mark Darling, He Always Said His Head Was Killing Him</em>.</p> <p>Rebecca hummed a few bars of <em>Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life</em> before carrying on. The other side of the cemetery was busy Park Street, bustling with commuters and students and ne’er do wells. It was weird to see so many people on the street in the dark. She still wasn’t used to it. On the street corner, a disheveled man was screaming something about repentance and waving a pile of crumpled paper pamphlets. She’d seen his stuff before, just some cheaply mimeographed tracts extolling the virtues of brass cogs instead of tendons. Hogwash and nonsense, hard enough to take care of a flesh body without complicating it with brass bullshit.</p> <p>The brick exteriors of nearby buildings were all coated in fading posters, advertising local shows, social work, some missing pets and people too. Rebecca tried not looking at them and to keep walking. There were some days where it was nice to stop and sniff the flowers, but today was not one of them. Rounding a corner, she was overwhelmed by the smell of ammonia. Looking away, she saw a poster advertising Delta-8 gummies. An image of someone dressed like a soldier or some kind of secret agent with a green Delta on their chest giving the viewer a big thumbs-up.</p> <p>Not every part of town had walls covered in paper trash. Every once in a while there’d be some hipster pub or upscale establishment that could afford to have them torn off. A few of them could even splurge for some painted facades. Places with names like Hop Shelf Brewing or Marshall, Carter & Dork. Rebecca had no time for that bougie nonsense.</p> <p>There was, in fact, a warehouse at Park and Uderzo. Almost looked like an aircraft hanger, apart from the lack of runways. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped intermittently with barbed wire. The only break was a small windowless yellow booth, adjacent to a gate. Approaching it, Rebecca spotted an intercom. She poked it.</p> <p>A muffled, metallic voice growled through. “<em>State your business.</em>”</p> <p>“Uh, here to see Checkers?”</p> <p>“<em>Stand by.</em>”</p> <p>A few moments passed. Rebecca shivered. The gate buzzed, and slid open. Standing in place, she peeked past it and towards the warehouse.</p> <p>“<em>We don’t got all day, missy.</em>”</p> <p>“Fine, fine, jeez. I’m going.” Passing through, Rebecca began walking towards the warehouse. The gate behind her rattled shut. <em>Ophie better not have sent me somewhere to die. She’d do the background for something like this thought. Wouldn’t send me into the lion’s den. Probably.”</em></p> <p>A door opened, with light on the other side.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="/orange-colored-sky-1">Chapter One</a> \| <em>Orange Colored Sky</em> \| <a class="newpage" href="/our-hairy-transsexual-bodies-delight-naked-together-in-the-d">Chapter Three</a> »</strong></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/orange-colored-sky-2">nightly feet beat the hard concrete, their desire paths incomplete</a>" by good_vibrations, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/orange-colored-sky-2">https://scpwiki.com/orange-colored-sky-2</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Absent the sun, capsule hotels are a valuable piece of real estate. Guests don’t miss out on anything when the view through any given porthole is pitch blackness, or for a lucky few, the fleeting flash of the curfew copter searchlight. LED headlights, eat your heart out. The Pillbug Hotel in downtown Neo-Portland had clairvoyant foresight when they installed ultraviolet lights in their ‘rooms’ a few weeks before the Great Switch had been flipped. A little bit of sun in every room and all. Now they were raking in the big bucks. Rebecca Vance had been lucky to scrape together the last of her savings for a week’s worth of sleep time. It was the cheapest option available, had taken all the money she had left, and now there was a week to figure out how to avoid homelessness. No problem here. At least Rebecca wasn’t the only one forlornly gazing into the abyss. Even punky transfemme computer programmers were struggling to make ends meet. She’d been reconnecting with an old friend from college Ophelia Venturo. Back when the stars were in proper alignment they’d gone to the same college before taking highly divergent life paths. Ophie went into computer science and made enough money to be sitting pretty on California Island. Meanwhile, Rebecca had moved into a world where giant pulsating eyeballs roamed the streets to avoid student debt collectors. So there was a part of her which relished seeing someone who had flown to such highs brought down to her level. But, that wasn’t really something she brought up when they talked. Staring at her cracked phone screen, Rebecca shifted her weight in the capsule. It was just barely large enough to accommodate her body and the suitcase she used as a combination pillow/dresser/nightstand/emergency flotation device. She spoke in a light whisper, anything heavier would bounce around the ‘room’ making everything else inaudible. “So are the 2020’s just going to be the most busted decade on record, or do you think there’s anything that can come along to salvage it?” Rebecca’s phone screen lit up, adjusting its brightness and broadcasting in unison as a faint monotone voice replied “Who the hell knows, Beccs. There’s enough time to make things better. But there is an equal amount of time for more things to go badly. Given that we’ve had a global pandemic, all the rain ran red, and now the sun’s gone missing, we seem to be getting a new-age remix of the old ten plagues of Egypt.” “I’m just mostly afraid because nothing’s been bad enough to make things really… fall apart. Like, I can still get another job. Most places are more or less still open. They didn’t even make the bus free if you’re going downtown on weekdays. But there’s more shoes that could drop, you know? What’s gonna be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, if knocking out the sun isn’t going to be the //coup de grâce//?” “Yeah. Equal time to get better or worse. Using the past as a predictor at this point feels naive.” Rebecca scoffed. “Unless you’re betting on things somehow getting even worse. You’ll make your money back every time on that one.” There was a sigh, conjuring the image of the veins on the underside of Ophelia's eyeballs. “If we’re playing oddsmaker bookie bingo, you’d always get the crap odds there. It’s like betting on Serena winning at Wimbledon or the Shackletons losing the Under-World Series.” Rolling over to her belly, Rebecca leaned her head over her phone to trap it between her ear and shoulder. “Hey. A wise jerk once said, past is fucking prologue. This has to be when the veil finally unravels right? How the hell are they going to keep people from noticing the damned sun not rising?” She could hear the sound of chewing from the other end of the phone. It made every muscle in her body tense but she didn’t say anything. Last time she’d said something Ophelia had gotten huffy and it had been a Whole Thing. If she was in a good mood tonight, Rebecca knew better than to spoil it. “You know…//crunch, crunch//… I thought I would get more out of knowing what’s real. Being behind the veil. But I’d be happier if I were still plodding along ignorantly, there’s some artificial satellite sun keeping the normies in the metaphorical dark. If they don’t figure it out soon, and I’m sure the astronomers already know something’s fucked, everyone’s gonna have a lot more broken bones and dead plants in the future.” There was a faint swallowing. “Bought them some time, at least.” “Good for them. They can honestly do whatever they want. In a few months or years I’ll start worrying about my vitamin D, if any of us manage to survive this long-term, but for now I need a damn job. You wouldn’t happen to have any leads on that wouldja?” “I don’t think anything I could show would be anything you’re qualified for. I mean, no offense, but you’re not even a script kiddie. If someone asked you about chips you’d probably think they were talking about doritos. But…” “Yes, I too listen to Weird Al.” “Shut up. Do you want my help or not? I’ve got one thing that might be up your alley. I know you’re not usually in the business of being an errand boy, but-” “I’m not interested in being a boy, period.” “Shut the fuck, shut up, shut the fuck up. Respectfully. I got offered a courier gig about a week after the big switch in the sky got flipped. I don’t like to go anywhere to do things but if you’re really desperate, it’s something.” “I hate myself for saying this, but you think you could text me the deets?” “For a dollar.” “Ophie, I thought we weren’t fucking around?” “You started it. I think I’m gonna wrap myself in blankets and watch YouTube while telling myself that I’m trying to sleep, but I’ll text it to you.” “If you see any of those good good axolotl videos I like, send those too?” “If you want.” The phone screen dimmed as the call ended. Resting it on her chest, Rebecca sighed. Courier work was meant for zoomers on hoverboards hurling harpoons into hapless passing vehicles. She couldn’t even afford a board, let alone the metal. Still, it was probably her best lead since she’d promoted herself to customer. What a bad day. What an awful mess all of this was. Ever since, her resting heartbeat had been stressed. The phone buzzed, sliding off her chest. Fumbling in the dark for her phone before clicking it on, Rebecca began reading Ophelia’s text. {{Warehouse at Park and Uderzo. Go there tonight if you’re interested, ask for Checkers.}} //Checkers?// Rebecca let the name roll through her head as she gathered her things and poured out of her sleeping tube. Sounded too wholesome for a shady delivery job. Maybe that made more sense that way. After all, who were the pigs going to chase after first, someone with a nickname like Slippin’ Timmy or the regular guy going by Checkers? One can only imagine how deep the nickname presumption arms race could go. Rebecca would not be imagining it. Stepping out of the hotel, cold night air flowing through her dress and hair, Rebecca began fiddling with her phone and headphones to play some music while she walked. Settling on some goth pop, she started her walk down the block. The big orange streetlights hummed overhead, illuminating the large open plaza in front of the nearby Government House. Old-fashioned lights, always a step behind where the world in front of the veil was. Infrastructural hand-me-downs. Behind Government House was a graveyard, which Rebecca had always found fitting. The building had originally been a church, with raised ceilings inside and some kind of neo-gothic architectural shtick going on while the outside was your everyday brutalist concrete building. The graveyard was a shortcut to Park street, so Rebecca walked through the wrought-iron gates inside. It was always a pleasant place to be. Few others enjoyed the space so it was almost always deserted. Ironically the last place you’d expect to run into a deranged mugger or some desperate sap in an orange jumpsuit. Most of the graves were older, covered with moss and overgrown by vines. But there were still a few visible, mostly on more recent fare. Passing one by, Rebecca could make out a short inscription: //Mark Darling, He Always Said His Head Was Killing Him//. Rebecca hummed a few bars of //Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life// before carrying on. The other side of the cemetery was busy Park Street, bustling with commuters and students and ne’er do wells. It was weird to see so many people on the street in the dark. She still wasn’t used to it. On the street corner, a disheveled man was screaming something about repentance and waving a pile of crumpled paper pamphlets. She’d seen his stuff before, just some cheaply mimeographed tracts extolling the virtues of brass cogs instead of tendons. Hogwash and nonsense, hard enough to take care of a flesh body without complicating it with brass bullshit. The brick exteriors of nearby buildings were all coated in fading posters, advertising local shows, social work, some missing pets and people too. Rebecca tried not looking at them and to keep walking. There were some days where it was nice to stop and sniff the flowers, but today was not one of them. Rounding a corner, she was overwhelmed by the smell of ammonia. Looking away, she saw a poster advertising Delta-8 gummies. An image of someone dressed like a soldier or some kind of secret agent with a green Delta on their chest giving the viewer a big thumbs-up. Not every part of town had walls covered in paper trash. Every once in a while there’d be some hipster pub or upscale establishment that could afford to have them torn off. A few of them could even splurge for some painted facades. Places with names like Hop Shelf Brewing or Marshall, Carter & Dork. Rebecca had no time for that bougie nonsense. There was, in fact, a warehouse at Park and Uderzo. Almost looked like an aircraft hanger, apart from the lack of runways. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped intermittently with barbed wire. The only break was a small windowless yellow booth, adjacent to a gate. Approaching it, Rebecca spotted an intercom. She poked it. A muffled, metallic voice growled through. “//State your business.//” “Uh, here to see Checkers?” “//Stand by.//” A few moments passed. Rebecca shivered. The gate buzzed, and slid open. Standing in place, she peeked past it and towards the warehouse. “//We don’t got all day, missy.//” “Fine, fine, jeez. I’m going.” Passing through, Rebecca began walking towards the warehouse. The gate behind her rattled shut. //Ophie better not have sent me somewhere to die. She’d do the background for something like this thought. Wouldn’t send me into the lion’s den. Probably.”// A door opened, with light on the other side. = << [[[orange-colored-sky-1\| Chapter One]]] \| //Orange Colored Sky// \| [[[our hairy transsexual bodies delight, naked together in the dayless dark night\| Chapter Three]]] >> [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=good_vibrations]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-16T05:56:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	nightly feet beat the hard concrete, their desire paths incomplete - SCP Foundation	7	[ "orange-colored-sky-1", "our-hairy-transsexual-bodies-delight-naked-together-in-the-d", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1450773131	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orange-colored-sky-2
orientamento-al-sito-asclepio-introduzione	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>Tale: Site Asclepio Orientation, Introduction<br/> Author: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-aisenberg" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3470604); return false;"><img alt="Dr Aisenberg" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3470604&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730560323" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3470604)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-aisenberg" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3470604); return false;">Dr Aisenberg</a></span><br/> Original: <a href="http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-al-sito-asclepio-introduzione\|">Orientamento al Sito Asclepio, Introduzione</a><br/> Translator: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;"><img alt="Roberto Turati" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7372077&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730560323" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7372077)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;">Roberto Turati</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Good morning everyone, welcome to Site Asclepio. If you're here, either you're new rookies or you're taking a break and decided to blend into the newcomers. If your case is the latter, I'm inviting you to get back to your tasks; if you're already done with your daily assignments, I guess you can stay.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>The orientation for new personnel had just begun, and two people stand up from their seats in the lecture hall to leave. The "lecturer" of the day adjusts his black bowtie.</em></p> </div> <p>I see you're all confused. Yes, directors are usually the ones supposed to show the Sites to new researchers. So I guess it's time to introduce myself, since some of you will be working with me in the future. My name's James Aisenberg, I'm the deputy director of the Genetic Research and Manipulation Division. Don't be fooled by that name: while my family has German roots, I was born and have always lived in Italy. Yes, as you noticed, the DRMG isn't included in the pamphlet of Site Asclepio. The guys from the other groups have to stop pulling these bad pranks, trying to remove my division from pamphlets every year. We're the second largest division at Site Asclepio, although the one dealing with microbiology and the like apparently gets some additional funds. We're basically competing, and I guess you can blame that oversight by the microbiology department personnel.</p> <p>I apologize on the directors' behalf for the inconvenience and your possible letdown. I was told they had to attend a sudden Superintendence meeting, and I do hope they tell Second to give my department a little more funds. Heck, at this rate, we're going to end up doing internal fund raisings and looking for someone crazy enough to seek out one of those new, huge chimeras I heard so much about.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>James pulls out a small logbook from the pocket of his white suit, the alternative to his usual lab coat.</em></p> </div> <p>So, before moving on to the neat part, showing you a few labs and the like, I'm warning you: yes, I'm being informal right now. I was asked to attend here just two hours ago and I couldn't write down a full speech and the like. Besides, I find it boring to speak to you in the monotonous tone of someone who learnt everything by heart. If you don't like any of this, go to Site Vittoria, where you'll probably meet a Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, or someone of the likes of him.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>The deputy director of the Genetic Research and Manipulation Division pulls out a pair of glasses from the same pocket as before.</em></p> </div> <p>So, maybe you haven't yet figured out completely what we deal with here, so I'll give you an in-depth explanation: at Site Asclepio, we mostly do research. We mainly study anomalous diseases, microscopic entities, fungi and the like. But our job also includes figuring out what the chimeras are stuffed with, especially the genetically altered ones. Moreover, Site Asclepio houses the largest medical facility in the Italian Branch. When a Superintendent or a mostly harmless humanoid anomaly have to undergo surgery, they usually come here. Now I've mentioned three of the main Divisions at Site Asclepio. If I recall correctly, the latter is called "Medical and Immediate Response Division". You might as well forget about the "immediate response" part: sure, they're fast, but a very complicated surgery can take as long as a day's work — even two, in the rarest cases.</p> <p>Furthermore, on top of all that: Site Asclepio coordinates SSM-VI, namely <em>Mater Morbi</em>. The purpose of that squad is to guarantee the containment of microbiological anomalies or to explore areas affected by biohazards. You may wonder, what's so special about them? They're biologists, doctors, or generally experts of all those fields, training to explore and study hazardous areas. The two squads have two mobile labs at their disposal, as well as several Hazmat suits. They also have enhanced suits, which grant better protection from radiation, corrosion, bacteria and other, unspecified threats. Anyway, after the tour we're going to take once we're done here, don't forget to write down your names on that book near the entrance. Specify what department you were assigned to and, if possible, the one you'd like to be assigned to, should you meet all requirements.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>Someone in the crowd raises a hand. James points at a person among the rookies.</em></p> </div> <p>Finally, a question. What do you wish to know?</p> <p>«Excuse me, about what you've just said: are you telling us we get to decide whether to change the section we're assigned to? Wouldn't that break the rules? And if it doesn't, wouldn't it be unprofessional?»</p> <p>Well, in my opinion, if someone has basic competences, the will to learn and work and their superiors' approval, they can become anything. Even the Superintendents and the director see it that way. As long as you know what you're doing, you cause no trouble. Your "assigned department" is kind of a starting point, nothing more: based on your knowledge in the field and other little things I'm not exactly an expert of, they'll find you a department where you'll supposedly feel more comfortable and be able to do your best with what you've learnt so far.</p> <p>However, many people don't know there are more divisions than they expect, but those are just specialized, unofficial groups, several of which stem from the Microbiology Department. For example, we also have a small group specialized in mycology. I'm not going to list them all, since they exist one day and they don't the next day. Sure, there must be more or less ten of them, but I'm not even counting the groups researchers make among them to spend their free time between assignments.</p> <p>Now, after showing you how nice our workplace is, I also need to discuss the other side of the coin. Site Asclepio can be a dangerous place, maybe more than it should. Some think Site Vittoria is the most dangerous one, others think it's Site Vulcano. But here, we host things which kill in incomprehensible ways, in addition to behaving in incomprehensible ways. We contain mutated prions sensitive to vibrations which cause you to explode. We contain a virus with a hive mind. Things which could destroy whole ecosystems, according to their files. True dangers are invisible: indeed, with the naked eye, we can't see prions or diseases floating in the air. A mere oversight can often end in tragedy. It happened once: I was home, in Trieste, when it happened. I was washing the window panes, while looking for some old book I used to consult back at university. I wasn't the deputy director yet back then, but I was already well regarded. At first, when my wife called me, I was surprised. She worked at Site Virtus, and she usually wouldn't call me at work. I found out several labs had been incinerated by Rowsannah, the artificial intelligence controlling the containment of most anomalies here. Damn it, how many people died? Seventy? I didn't know them all: I'd heard about many of them, and I'd only worked with a few of them, while others were close friends. I don't blame the Site Vulcano personnel or Rowsannah's choices: I think it did good, after all. It was dangerous to let infected subjects out: the whole Site could've been obliterated with ease. There was only one way. No one can escape the fate they chose for themselves, and only the results of our actions will be left one day, so we hopefully won't die at the wrong time. Ugh! I start philosophizing too much when I think back to that week: terrible memories. I'm truly sorry.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>James rubs his neck for a moment, then turns to the crowd one last time.</em></p> </div> <p>Oh well, I think I wasted more time than expected to introduce you to how things work at Site Asclepio, so we should quickly go and see the labs. Don't worry, though: you can see them with the whole calm of the world later. Come on, follow me! First stop: <a class="newpage" href="/introduzione-al-ccb">the Microbiology Division labs</a>!</p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Tale: Site Asclepio Orientation, Introduction Author: [[user Dr Aisenberg]] Original: [http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-al-sito-asclepio-introduzione\| Orientamento al Sito Asclepio, Introduzione] Translator: [[user Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] Good morning everyone, welcome to Site Asclepio. If you're here, either you're new rookies or you're taking a break and decided to blend into the newcomers. If your case is the latter, I'm inviting you to get back to your tasks; if you're already done with your daily assignments, I guess you can stay. [[=]] //The orientation for new personnel had just begun, and two people stand up from their seats in the lecture hall to leave. The "lecturer" of the day adjusts his black bowtie.// [[/=]] I see you're all confused. Yes, directors are usually the ones supposed to show the Sites to new researchers. So I guess it's time to introduce myself, since some of you will be working with me in the future. My name's James Aisenberg, I'm the deputy director of the Genetic Research and Manipulation Division. Don't be fooled by that name: while my family has German roots, I was born and have always lived in Italy. Yes, as you noticed, the DRMG isn't included in the pamphlet of Site Asclepio. The guys from the other groups have to stop pulling these bad pranks, trying to remove my division from pamphlets every year. We're the second largest division at Site Asclepio, although the one dealing with microbiology and the like apparently gets some additional funds. We're basically competing, and I guess you can blame that oversight by the microbiology department personnel. I apologize on the directors' behalf for the inconvenience and your possible letdown. I was told they had to attend a sudden Superintendence meeting, and I do hope they tell Second to give my department a little more funds. Heck, at this rate, we're going to end up doing internal fund raisings and looking for someone crazy enough to seek out one of those new, huge chimeras I heard so much about. [[=]] //James pulls out a small logbook from the pocket of his white suit, the alternative to his usual lab coat.// [[/=]] So, before moving on to the neat part, showing you a few labs and the like, I'm warning you: yes, I'm being informal right now. I was asked to attend here just two hours ago and I couldn't write down a full speech and the like. Besides, I find it boring to speak to you in the monotonous tone of someone who learnt everything by heart. If you don't like any of this, go to Site Vittoria, where you'll probably meet a Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, or someone of the likes of him. [[=]] //The deputy director of the Genetic Research and Manipulation Division pulls out a pair of glasses from the same pocket as before.// [[/=]] So, maybe you haven't yet figured out completely what we deal with here, so I'll give you an in-depth explanation: at Site Asclepio, we mostly do research. We mainly study anomalous diseases, microscopic entities, fungi and the like. But our job also includes figuring out what the chimeras are stuffed with, especially the genetically altered ones. Moreover, Site Asclepio houses the largest medical facility in the Italian Branch. When a Superintendent or a mostly harmless humanoid anomaly have to undergo surgery, they usually come here. Now I've mentioned three of the main Divisions at Site Asclepio. If I recall correctly, the latter is called "Medical and Immediate Response Division". You might as well forget about the "immediate response" part: sure, they're fast, but a very complicated surgery can take as long as a day's work -- even two, in the rarest cases. Furthermore, on top of all that: Site Asclepio coordinates SSM-VI, namely //Mater Morbi//. The purpose of that squad is to guarantee the containment of microbiological anomalies or to explore areas affected by biohazards. You may wonder, what's so special about them? They're biologists, doctors, or generally experts of all those fields, training to explore and study hazardous areas. The two squads have two mobile labs at their disposal, as well as several Hazmat suits. They also have enhanced suits, which grant better protection from radiation, corrosion, bacteria and other, unspecified threats. Anyway, after the tour we're going to take once we're done here, don't forget to write down your names on that book near the entrance. Specify what department you were assigned to and, if possible, the one you'd like to be assigned to, should you meet all requirements. [[=]] //Someone in the crowd raises a hand. James points at a person among the rookies.// [[/=]] Finally, a question. What do you wish to know? «Excuse me, about what you've just said: are you telling us we get to decide whether to change the section we're assigned to? Wouldn't that break the rules? And if it doesn't, wouldn't it be unprofessional?» Well, in my opinion, if someone has basic competences, the will to learn and work and their superiors' approval, they can become anything. Even the Superintendents and the director see it that way. As long as you know what you're doing, you cause no trouble. Your "assigned department" is kind of a starting point, nothing more: based on your knowledge in the field and other little things I'm not exactly an expert of, they'll find you a department where you'll supposedly feel more comfortable and be able to do your best with what you've learnt so far. However, many people don't know there are more divisions than they expect, but those are just specialized, unofficial groups, several of which stem from the Microbiology Department. For example, we also have a small group specialized in mycology. I'm not going to list them all, since they exist one day and they don't the next day. Sure, there must be more or less ten of them, but I'm not even counting the groups researchers make among them to spend their free time between assignments. Now, after showing you how nice our workplace is, I also need to discuss the other side of the coin. Site Asclepio can be a dangerous place, maybe more than it should. Some think Site Vittoria is the most dangerous one, others think it's Site Vulcano. But here, we host things which kill in incomprehensible ways, in addition to behaving in incomprehensible ways. We contain mutated prions sensitive to vibrations which cause you to explode. We contain a virus with a hive mind. Things which could destroy whole ecosystems, according to their files. True dangers are invisible: indeed, with the naked eye, we can't see prions or diseases floating in the air. A mere oversight can often end in tragedy. It happened once: I was home, in Trieste, when it happened. I was washing the window panes, while looking for some old book I used to consult back at university. I wasn't the deputy director yet back then, but I was already well regarded. At first, when my wife called me, I was surprised. She worked at Site Virtus, and she usually wouldn't call me at work. I found out several labs had been incinerated by Rowsannah, the artificial intelligence controlling the containment of most anomalies here. Damn it, how many people died? Seventy? I didn't know them all: I'd heard about many of them, and I'd only worked with a few of them, while others were close friends. I don't blame the Site Vulcano personnel or Rowsannah's choices: I think it did good, after all. It was dangerous to let infected subjects out: the whole Site could've been obliterated with ease. There was only one way. No one can escape the fate they chose for themselves, and only the results of our actions will be left one day, so we hopefully won't die at the wrong time. Ugh! I start philosophizing too much when I think back to that week: terrible memories. I'm truly sorry. [[=]] //James rubs his neck for a moment, then turns to the crowd one last time.// [[/=]] Oh well, I think I wasted more time than expected to introduce you to how things work at Site Asclepio, so we should quickly go and see the labs. Don't worry, though: you can see them with the whole calm of the world later. Come on, follow me! First stop: [[[introduzione-al-ccb\|the Microbiology Division labs]]]!	2023-05-14T21:57:00	[ "bureaucracy", "first-person", "international", "orientation", "science-fiction", "tale" ]	Site Asclepio Orientation, Introduction - SCP Foundation	4	[ "introduzione-al-ccb" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447741835	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orientamento-al-sito-asclepio-introduzione
orientamento-alla-sir-ii	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>Tale: SIR-II Orientation<br/> Author: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oreobanane" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3242868); return false;"><img alt="Oreobanane" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3242868&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730559911" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3242868)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oreobanane" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3242868); return false;">Oreobanane</a></span><br/> Original: <a href="http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-alla-sir-ii\|">Orientamento alla SIR-II</a><br/> Translator: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;"><img alt="Roberto Turati" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7372077&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730559911" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7372077)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;">Roberto Turati</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Two men are waiting for you; two men very different from each other. The first one is more or less fifty-five and is a true bulk: he's two meters tall, weighs at least a hundred kilograms, has a long black beard, greying hair shaved on the temples, green eyes, and hands covered in tattoos. He's wearing an uniform resembling a carabineer's, but you think a pair of boots and a shirt of any satanic metal band would suit him as well. He's talking with his partner, who's much younger and smaller, sitting on the desk. He's more or less forty-four and one meter seventy tall at most, with red hair and a pair of glasses lying on his crooked nose. The most remarkable detail is the deep scar crossing his left cheek. He's also wearing an uniform looking like a carabineer's, but you know they're neither cops or carabineers. You know they're the captains of the task force you're going to join; the only thing you don't know is which one is Leonardo Costa and which one is Francesco Galeazzo.</p> <p>«Are they our future superiors?»</p> <p>The rookie has spoken too loud. They look up. With a glance, the redhead leaves the word to his partners, who addresses you with a very low and loud voice:</p> <p>«Future agents of SIR-II? Yes, we're your superiors. You're early, come on in»</p> <p>You comply. There's enough room for all of you. The bulk tells something to his partners, who chuckles. He talks to you with a strong Taranto accent:</p> <p>«Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Site Virtus. I'm captain Leonardo Costa, and this is my partner and first captain of SIR-II, captain Francesco Galeazzo»</p> <p>The big guy replies:</p> <p>«Don't say "first", Leonardo: you're a captain as much as I am. Although you became one more recently»</p> <p>He smiles at you.</p> <p>«I see there are more people in here than in San Marino. That's a good thing»</p> <p>«More than in Molise»</p> <p>He lets out a giggle.</p> <p>«Yes, that too. We're sorry for those coming from Molise»</p> <p>You're speechless. At ULIS, they described Costa and Galeazzo as men who were good at everything, except for joking: the rumors you heard talked about two hyper-violent sadists who tortured their enemies during interrogations. Costa continues:</p> <p>«We know what you're thinking. You were told captain Galeazzo could smash your face with one punch and that seeing me smile is rarer than an Italian who likes pineapple pizza. I'll have you know that's true: we're bad and violent, and we know it. But above all, captain Galeazzo and I look like bad guys because we're very demanding. It's for your own good and that of Italy. We pick the best of the best. That's normal, the Foundation only picks the best»</p> <p>Galeazzo takes the microphone:</p> <p>«You were chosen based on your competences, especially espionage, because SIR-II is mainly a whistle-blowing SIR. There's SIR-I, but they specialize in locating potential anomalies. Our job is similar to espionage and intelligence. We're everywhere: in the police, in the Arm of Carabineers, in the army, in universities, in administrative offices… that's how we found you. Even we were found because our partners before us were everywhere. I, for one, was recruited by agents of SIR-II undercover among carabineers — because I used to be a carabineer, and so did captain Costa. Although he was recruited differently and under very different circumstances»</p> <p>Now you're curious. You want to know. Costa goes on:</p> <p>«And that leads us to talk about the people we keep an eye on. That we spy on. Because the Foundation has enemies, rivals. We call them groups of interest, or simply GoIs. They also contain or make anomalies, for different purposes. Some of them can be very cooperative, such as Janus' Order or MADAO, whereas others, like RIDIA or SCEMC, which you certainly heard about during your training at ULIS, were decommissioned. Others, such as CCSG, are less cooperative or more defensive. Others, such as CGOM or CFO, are particularly hostile. Lucky for us, CGOM is essentially water-based, so our partners of Site Nettuno deal with them in our stead. I'm referring to doctor Pistillo and captain Amarino, of SSM-II. However, CFO is kind of our business and it's very different»</p> <p>He turns to his partner, who's visibly uneasy.</p> <p>«Leonardo, care to explain or shall I do it?»</p> <p>Costa shakes his head, apparently scared:</p> <p>«No, you do it, please. I still can't. Even after so many years, it's still complicated. I'm sorry»</p> <p>«No, don't apologize. I'll do it»</p> <p>Costa extens his arm towards his partner.</p> <p>«Help me get down, please»</p> <p>With a sweetness no one thought he was capable of, Galeazzo helps Costa get down from the desk he was sitting on and helps him stand. Costa is shaking.</p> <p>«Thanks, Francesco»</p> <p>«Don't mention it»</p> <p>Galeazzo turns to you.</p> <p>«A few years ago, two carabineers infiltrated an abandoned factory, thinking some wildlife dealers were hiding there. But it was a CFO base, a hideout of the greatest enemy of the Foundation's Italian Branch — the Fascist Council of the Occult. Their purpose is to stir up fear and destabilize the social order by using chimeras, anomalous beasts crafted by them. Those two carabineers didn't know that. One of them was shot in the head, <a class="newpage" href="/ostaggio">the other one was taken hostage</a> and brutally tortured. They thought he was one of our undercover agents, but he wasn't. He told them the truth, but they didn't believe him. They kidnapped him, beat him up, had giant chimeras attack him, tied him up, starved him to make him talk, and never believed him as he told the truth. We had an agent undercover in CFO, who warned us. We were able to save that carabineer and capture one of those chimeras, which is currently contained at Site Cerere. That carabineer is now standing right here, in front of you»</p> <p>Galeazzo doesn't need to tell you who that is, you figured it out. Before you, Costa can't hide his emotions. He's supported by Galeazzo, and you can easily tell he's still suffering because of that kidnapping. Galeazzo continues:</p> <p>«Captain Costa chose to join us after that episode. He's been the second team leader of SIR-II for three years. A respected, feared and admired captain who commits to investigate and spy on CFO from behind his computer»</p> <p>Costa wipes his tears away and picks up his crutch and the microphone.</p> <p>«You won't always be sent to the battlefield. As you can see, as troubled as my walking is, I can't possibly go out in the field. But I can assure you: even if you don't go out in the field, you'll still be useful. This is 21<sup>st</sup> century, espionage is done with Internet and informatics. Some of you graduated in great informatics schools, like me and captain Galeazzo — with an expertise in data protection or safety, of course. Some of you graduated in law, others have military training. Very diverse backgrounds, because we're looking for people with very diverse competences»</p> <p>Galeazzo drinks a glass of water, before resuming:</p> <p>«And we're looking for plenty of people. Our team consists of two hundred and fifty agents. Two hundred and fifty people dedicating to espionage, intelligence and protection, both of our agents and the data of all the containment sites of the Foundation's Italian Branch»</p> <p>«Isn't protection the job of SPeV-II?» asks Costa.</p> <p>Galeazzo raises an eyebrow:</p> <p>«SP-what?»</p> <p>«SPeV-II»</p> <p>Galeazzo stares blankly at Costa, reflecting intensely.</p> <p>«You run it, dumbass»</p> <p>Galeazzo reflects for another few seconds.</p> <p>«Ah, that's right. No, that's different, it's the protection of Foundation agents, which I leave to that extremist Venelli»</p> <p>Costa shrugs. Clearly, there are disagreements between Foundation employees, but that doesn't seem to be a problem to them. At that moment, a deep and bossy voice is heard through the speakers.</p> <p>«We'll discuss that later, Galeazzo»</p> <p>Costa bursts out laughing.</p> <p>«They're telling me through the headphones that Venelli is going to kill you»</p> <p>Galeazzo sighs.</p> <p>«What a pain in the ass, does he have nothing to do, other than pissing me off? And then they say Seventh is the annoying one! Anyway, let's get serious again»</p> <p>«Us? Serious? Since when?»</p> <p>«Leonardo, we've always been serious»</p> <p>Costa doesn't look persuaded.</p> <p>«I can't believe you and Venelli can run an entire section together without even seeing eye to eye, Francesco»</p> <p>«It's just political opinions, Leo, don't worry»</p> <p>Costa chuckles:</p> <p>«I'd like to know what Eleventh thinks of your matter»</p> <p>«Leonardo, let Eleventh play poker in his office. Our newbies will have plenty of time to meet him and his legendary calm. As long as they don't make him angry: he's worse than you, when he's mad»</p> <p>Costa lets it go with a sigh.</p> <p>«You really are a dumbass, Francesco. Anyway, if any of you prefer to protect Foundation agents, you're totally free to do that, although it's not our job. You can join SPeV-II, just talk to captain Galeazzo about it: he's their coordinator, alongside director Mauro Venelli. It's normal to change section: at first, captain Galeazzo and I were supposed to join SSM-IX and SIR-I respectively. But we're very proud to be the leaders of SIR-II. You should be proud to be part of it as well»</p> <p>Galeazzo continues in his stead:</p> <p>«Sure, we don't necessarily go on the battlefield. Sure, we're not very popular, not even in the rest of the Foundation. Sure, others think we fuck around and do nothing. But if the Foundation identifies agents or hostile groups or finds anomalies, they have our undercover agents to thank: they make up most of our SIR. So you should be proud of it; maybe we're less glorious than the SSMs, but the Italian Branch would be nothing without us. We're ending this orientation with these words. Now you can get out and face your new job head-on»</p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Tale: SIR-II Orientation Author: [[user Oreobanane]] Original: [http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-alla-sir-ii\| Orientamento alla SIR-II] Translator: [[user Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] Two men are waiting for you; two men very different from each other. The first one is more or less fifty-five and is a true bulk: he's two meters tall, weighs at least a hundred kilograms, has a long black beard, greying hair shaved on the temples, green eyes, and hands covered in tattoos. He's wearing an uniform resembling a carabineer's, but you think a pair of boots and a shirt of any satanic metal band would suit him as well. He's talking with his partner, who's much younger and smaller, sitting on the desk. He's more or less forty-four and one meter seventy tall at most, with red hair and a pair of glasses lying on his crooked nose. The most remarkable detail is the deep scar crossing his left cheek. He's also wearing an uniform looking like a carabineer's, but you know they're neither cops or carabineers. You know they're the captains of the task force you're going to join; the only thing you don't know is which one is Leonardo Costa and which one is Francesco Galeazzo. «Are they our future superiors?» The rookie has spoken too loud. They look up. With a glance, the redhead leaves the word to his partners, who addresses you with a very low and loud voice: «Future agents of SIR-II? Yes, we're your superiors. You're early, come on in» You comply. There's enough room for all of you. The bulk tells something to his partners, who chuckles. He talks to you with a strong Taranto accent: «Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Site Virtus. I'm captain Leonardo Costa, and this is my partner and first captain of SIR-II, captain Francesco Galeazzo» The big guy replies: «Don't say "first", Leonardo: you're a captain as much as I am. Although you became one more recently» He smiles at you. «I see there are more people in here than in San Marino. That's a good thing» «More than in Molise» He lets out a giggle. «Yes, that too. We're sorry for those coming from Molise» You're speechless. At ULIS, they described Costa and Galeazzo as men who were good at everything, except for joking: the rumors you heard talked about two hyper-violent sadists who tortured their enemies during interrogations. Costa continues: «We know what you're thinking. You were told captain Galeazzo could smash your face with one punch and that seeing me smile is rarer than an Italian who likes pineapple pizza. I'll have you know that's true: we're bad and violent, and we know it. But above all, captain Galeazzo and I look like bad guys because we're very demanding. It's for your own good and that of Italy. We pick the best of the best. That's normal, the Foundation only picks the best» Galeazzo takes the microphone: «You were chosen based on your competences, especially espionage, because SIR-II is mainly a whistle-blowing SIR. There's SIR-I, but they specialize in locating potential anomalies. Our job is similar to espionage and intelligence. We're everywhere: in the police, in the Arm of Carabineers, in the army, in universities, in administrative offices... that's how we found you. Even we were found because our partners before us were everywhere. I, for one, was recruited by agents of SIR-II undercover among carabineers -- because I used to be a carabineer, and so did captain Costa. Although he was recruited differently and under very different circumstances» Now you're curious. You want to know. Costa goes on: «And that leads us to talk about the people we keep an eye on. That we spy on. Because the Foundation has enemies, rivals. We call them groups of interest, or simply GoIs. They also contain or make anomalies, for different purposes. Some of them can be very cooperative, such as Janus' Order or MADAO, whereas others, like RIDIA or SCEMC, which you certainly heard about during your training at ULIS, were decommissioned. Others, such as CCSG, are less cooperative or more defensive. Others, such as CGOM or CFO, are particularly hostile. Lucky for us, CGOM is essentially water-based, so our partners of Site Nettuno deal with them in our stead. I'm referring to doctor Pistillo and captain Amarino, of SSM-II. However, CFO is kind of our business and it's very different» He turns to his partner, who's visibly uneasy. «Leonardo, care to explain or shall I do it?» Costa shakes his head, apparently scared: «No, you do it, please. I still can't. Even after so many years, it's still complicated. I'm sorry» «No, don't apologize. I'll do it» Costa extens his arm towards his partner. «Help me get down, please» With a sweetness no one thought he was capable of, Galeazzo helps Costa get down from the desk he was sitting on and helps him stand. Costa is shaking. «Thanks, Francesco» «Don't mention it» Galeazzo turns to you. «A few years ago, two carabineers infiltrated an abandoned factory, thinking some wildlife dealers were hiding there. But it was a CFO base, a hideout of the greatest enemy of the Foundation's Italian Branch -- the Fascist Council of the Occult. Their purpose is to stir up fear and destabilize the social order by using chimeras, anomalous beasts crafted by them. Those two carabineers didn't know that. One of them was shot in the head, [[[ostaggio\|the other one was taken hostage]]] and brutally tortured. They thought he was one of our undercover agents, but he wasn't. He told them the truth, but they didn't believe him. They kidnapped him, beat him up, had giant chimeras attack him, tied him up, starved him to make him talk, and never believed him as he told the truth. We had an agent undercover in CFO, who warned us. We were able to save that carabineer and capture one of those chimeras, which is currently contained at Site Cerere. That carabineer is now standing right here, in front of you» Galeazzo doesn't need to tell you who that is, you figured it out. Before you, Costa can't hide his emotions. He's supported by Galeazzo, and you can easily tell he's still suffering because of that kidnapping. Galeazzo continues: «Captain Costa chose to join us after that episode. He's been the second team leader of SIR-II for three years. A respected, feared and admired captain who commits to investigate and spy on CFO from behind his computer» Costa wipes his tears away and picks up his crutch and the microphone. «You won't always be sent to the battlefield. As you can see, as troubled as my walking is, I can't possibly go out in the field. But I can assure you: even if you don't go out in the field, you'll still be useful. This is 21^^st^^ century, espionage is done with Internet and informatics. Some of you graduated in great informatics schools, like me and captain Galeazzo -- with an expertise in data protection or safety, of course. Some of you graduated in law, others have military training. Very diverse backgrounds, because we're looking for people with very diverse competences» Galeazzo drinks a glass of water, before resuming: «And we're looking for plenty of people. Our team consists of two hundred and fifty agents. Two hundred and fifty people dedicating to espionage, intelligence and protection, both of our agents and the data of all the containment sites of the Foundation's Italian Branch» «Isn't protection the job of SPeV-II?» asks Costa. Galeazzo raises an eyebrow: «SP-what?» «SPeV-II» Galeazzo stares blankly at Costa, reflecting intensely. «You run it, dumbass» Galeazzo reflects for another few seconds. «Ah, that's right. No, that's different, it's the protection of Foundation agents, which I leave to that extremist Venelli» Costa shrugs. Clearly, there are disagreements between Foundation employees, but that doesn't seem to be a problem to them. At that moment, a deep and bossy voice is heard through the speakers. «We'll discuss that later, Galeazzo» Costa bursts out laughing. «They're telling me through the headphones that Venelli is going to kill you» Galeazzo sighs. «What a pain in the ass, does he have nothing to do, other than pissing me off? And then they say Seventh is the annoying one! Anyway, let's get serious again» «Us? Serious? Since when?» «Leonardo, we've always been serious» Costa doesn't look persuaded. «I can't believe you and Venelli can run an entire section together without even seeing eye to eye, Francesco» «It's just political opinions, Leo, don't worry» Costa chuckles: «I'd like to know what Eleventh thinks of your matter» «Leonardo, let Eleventh play poker in his office. Our newbies will have plenty of time to meet him and his legendary calm. As long as they don't make him angry: he's worse than you, when he's mad» Costa lets it go with a sigh. «You really are a dumbass, Francesco. Anyway, if any of you prefer to protect Foundation agents, you're totally free to do that, although it's not our job. You can join SPeV-II, just talk to captain Galeazzo about it: he's their coordinator, alongside director Mauro Venelli. It's normal to change section: at first, captain Galeazzo and I were supposed to join SSM-IX and SIR-I respectively. But we're very proud to be the leaders of SIR-II. You should be proud to be part of it as well» Galeazzo continues in his stead: «Sure, we don't necessarily go on the battlefield. Sure, we're not very popular, not even in the rest of the Foundation. Sure, others think we fuck around and do nothing. But if the Foundation identifies agents or hostile groups or finds anomalies, they have our undercover agents to thank: they make up most of our SIR. So you should be proud of it; maybe we're less glorious than the SSMs, but the Italian Branch would be nothing without us. We're ending this orientation with these words. Now you can get out and face your new job head-on»	2023-05-11T09:43:00	[ "international", "orientation", "second-person", "spy-fiction", "tale" ]	SIR-II Orientation - SCP Foundation	3	[ "ostaggio" ]	[ "lorecon2023", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447717195	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orientamento-alla-sir-ii
orientamento-alla-ssm-x	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>Tale: SSM-X Orientation<br/> Author: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thatguyrichard" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262268); return false;"><img alt="ThatGuyRichard" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3262268&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730560110" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3262268)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thatguyrichard" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262268); return false;">ThatGuyRichard</a></span><br/> Original: <a href="http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-alla-ssm-x\|">Orientamento alla SSM-X</a><br/> Translator: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;"><img alt="Roberto Turati" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7372077&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730560110" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7372077)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;">Roberto Turati</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The two rookies looked around, alone in the conference room. Not exactly what they expected, but after all they didn't really know what to expect. Their recruitment had been rather quick and hasty.</p> <p>The door suddenly opened and a man with a beard walked in. The uniform he was wearing reminded the rookies of other uniforms they'd seen since they'd been recruited by the Foundation, but with a few differences. It was clearly designed to serve in a different setting. Three more people wearing the same clothes entered afterwards. The bearded man clapped his hands and started talking:</p> <p>«Well, first of all, welcome to Area-33. I'm lieutenant Demichelis, and these are my subordinates. I know you're very confused, and that you've been through many classes over the last two weeks. By now, you're supposed to have a clear picture of what the Foundation does, and probably what <em>Consequentia Glacialis</em> deals with as well. Before I get lost in small talk, corporal Ferri will give you a brief, more formal introduction»</p> <p>A woman in uniform took a step forth:</p> <p>«Good morning. As you know, the Foundation takes care of containing and studying phenomena, locations, objects and entities which defy the laws of physics and logic. You, specifically, were recruited by the Italian Branch as potential agents of Mobile Task Force X, <em>Consequentia Glacialis</em>. This SSM deals with anomalies found and located in mountain areas with a harsh weather, which is why we often recruit soldiers among the Alpini, as in your case. Since the Italian mountain ranges are very extensive, SSM-X is divided into groups stationed in several Sites of the Italian Branch. However, the squad as a whole is coordinated here, at Site Minerva, and <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/orientamento-all-ulis">ULIS</a> is in charge of it. Nonetheless, given the need for quick replacements, you're going on duty today. But your shifts will be shorter, so as to allow you to continue with the classes»</p> <p>Lieutenant Demichelis resumed talking:</p> <p>«Yes, and those classes will be helpful in many occasions, I guarantee you. Of course, there will be as many situations where they'll be useless. That's the neat part of dealing with the anomalous: it always finds a way to surprise you, by its own nature. I know it's a lot to ask for, but these are difficult times. Our squad has lost some excellent… an excellent asset recently, which is why you're here. And <em>Consequentia Glacialis</em> has already been reduced to a minimum regardless. ULIS had to manage with what little time they had. Any questions?»</p> <p>One of the rookies raised a hand.</p> <p>«Yes, sir. I know this may sound like a silly question, but what if we encountered something we don't know how to face?»</p> <p>«That's not a silly question at all, agent Barna. Overall, trusting those more experienced than you is the best idea, but consider two things. If you were chosen, it means you already have unique qualities, and our observers believe you'll be able to face anything the anomalous world might throw at you. Besides, we made agreements with captain Planieri: team Beta will be kept as far as possible from high-risk missions until your training is over. We can afford at least that. Anything else?»</p> <p>This time, agent Tessa raised a hand:</p> <p>«What will our training consist in? Practically, not theoretically»</p> <p>«Oh! I'm glad you wish to know: I was afraid the fact only two of you showed up at this meeting would intimidate you. Anyway, it's advanced military training, including the use of any kind of weapon and various hand-to-hand and meelee weapon combat techniques. A basic driving course with various vehicles, a specialized survival training and, of course, lots and lots of mountaineering. And on top of that, you'll be trained to act in anomalous spacial conditions, courtesy of on-field experts. That's certainly not our daily bread, but it's still better than panicking or throwing up in times of need. Any more doubts?»</p> <p>Both agents shook their heads.</p> <p>«All right then, some more useful information. Should you encounter a kind of anomaly that SSM-X isn't trained to handle, report to the base and call someone who knows what they're doing, whether it's <em>Mater Morbi</em> or <em>Subterranea</em>. Don't be ashamed of it, we've already lost too many people for not acknowledging our own lack of preparation in time. Which leads us to the next point: one of our tasks will be to escort those who know what they're doing to the anomaly, since they usually don't have the slightest idea of how to move in the mountains»</p> <p>Demichelis took a deep breath, before going on:</p> <p>«That said, welcome to <em>Consequentia Glacialis</em>. Be proud and ignore what the other squads will tell you. They may tell you we're the most useless SSM. That we're nothing but redneck mountaineers with rifles. That we're assholes; well, maybe that's true in my case, but don't be intimidated, because you're going to be among the best trained soldiers in the world and you'll be able to reach and work in places other people can't even dream to see from a distance»</p> <p>Demichelis saluted, and the two rookies readily saluted back.</p> <p>«That said, Sara, do you remember what today is?»</p> <p>Corporal Ferri replied immediately:</p> <p>«23<sup>th</sup> January 2020, lieutenant»</p> <p>Demichelis began mumbling to himself, with a pensive look:</p> <p>«So, summing the numbers in the date… uh… two plus three and… ten! All right, the tenth letter is L. Perfect, then prepare, because tomorrow we're going to Monte Leone to see how you handle it. We'll make it quick, up and down in a day. Wake up at 4 o'clock»</p> <p>«Yes, sir!» the rookies replied.</p> <p>«Ah, you're so eager! I'm really glad. Now, follow Mr. Pino: he'll show you around Area-33 and then he'll take you to your lodgings. Over time, you'll get to choose whether to live in town or stay here»</p> <p>The two rookies stood up, approached the man waiting for them at the door and left with him. Sergeant Fanucci approached Demichelis:</p> <p>«Excellent presentation, Roberto, although you omitted how they were assigned to the facility closest to fucking nowhere in the whole Branch — and how the superintendence is keeping and eye on their lieutenant, so they can kick him out as soon as he makes one, tiny mistake»</p> <p>The lieutenant replied ironically:</p> <p>«Funny. Remind me of that next time»</p> <p>«So? Care to join us for a beer?»</p> <p>«No, I'm busy. Drink some for me, too»</p> <p>«As you wish. See you tomorrow, then»</p> <p>That said, Fanucci headed to the exit alongside Gallo and Ferri.</p> <p>«See you»</p> <p>Demichelis was left alone in the conference room. He sat down and took his cell phone. He stared at the black screen for a few minutes, before unlocking it and dialing a number. The phone rang for ten seconds, before they answered:</p> <p>«Hello?»</p> <p>«Good evening, Mrs. Piazza, sorry to call so late. I'm Roberto, a colleague of Eric's. I just wanted to pay my respects for your son. I know it's been a month now, but I didn't feel like calling until now»</p> <p>Mrs. Piazza's voice replied faintly:</p> <p>«Thank you for caring anyway, dear»</p> <p>«No problem, tell me if you need anything»</p> <p>She cut short:</p> <p>«Thanks, but there's no need for that. Have a good night»</p> <p>«Good night»</p> <p>That was all Roberto could say, before she ended the call. After a few seconds, lieutenant Demichelis clenched his fists and told himself:</p> <p>«<a class="newpage" href="/lo-yeti-del-monviso">I won't let it happen again</a>»</p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Tale: SSM-X Orientation Author: [[user ThatGuyRichard]] Original: [http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-alla-ssm-x\| Orientamento alla SSM-X] Translator: [[user Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] The two rookies looked around, alone in the conference room. Not exactly what they expected, but after all they didn't really know what to expect. Their recruitment had been rather quick and hasty. The door suddenly opened and a man with a beard walked in. The uniform he was wearing reminded the rookies of other uniforms they'd seen since they'd been recruited by the Foundation, but with a few differences. It was clearly designed to serve in a different setting. Three more people wearing the same clothes entered afterwards. The bearded man clapped his hands and started talking: «Well, first of all, welcome to Area-33. I'm lieutenant Demichelis, and these are my subordinates. I know you're very confused, and that you've been through many classes over the last two weeks. By now, you're supposed to have a clear picture of what the Foundation does, and probably what //Consequentia Glacialis// deals with as well. Before I get lost in small talk, corporal Ferri will give you a brief, more formal introduction» A woman in uniform took a step forth: «Good morning. As you know, the Foundation takes care of containing and studying phenomena, locations, objects and entities which defy the laws of physics and logic. You, specifically, were recruited by the Italian Branch as potential agents of Mobile Task Force X, //Consequentia Glacialis//. This SSM deals with anomalies found and located in mountain areas with a harsh weather, which is why we often recruit soldiers among the Alpini, as in your case. Since the Italian mountain ranges are very extensive, SSM-X is divided into groups stationed in several Sites of the Italian Branch. However, the squad as a whole is coordinated here, at Site Minerva, and [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/orientamento-all-ulis\|ULIS]]] is in charge of it. Nonetheless, given the need for quick replacements, you're going on duty today. But your shifts will be shorter, so as to allow you to continue with the classes» Lieutenant Demichelis resumed talking: «Yes, and those classes will be helpful in many occasions, I guarantee you. Of course, there will be as many situations where they'll be useless. That's the neat part of dealing with the anomalous: it always finds a way to surprise you, by its own nature. I know it's a lot to ask for, but these are difficult times. Our squad has lost some excellent... an excellent asset recently, which is why you're here. And //Consequentia Glacialis// has already been reduced to a minimum regardless. ULIS had to manage with what little time they had. Any questions?» One of the rookies raised a hand. «Yes, sir. I know this may sound like a silly question, but what if we encountered something we don't know how to face?» «That's not a silly question at all, agent Barna. Overall, trusting those more experienced than you is the best idea, but consider two things. If you were chosen, it means you already have unique qualities, and our observers believe you'll be able to face anything the anomalous world might throw at you. Besides, we made agreements with captain Planieri: team Beta will be kept as far as possible from high-risk missions until your training is over. We can afford at least that. Anything else?» This time, agent Tessa raised a hand: «What will our training consist in? Practically, not theoretically» «Oh! I'm glad you wish to know: I was afraid the fact only two of you showed up at this meeting would intimidate you. Anyway, it's advanced military training, including the use of any kind of weapon and various hand-to-hand and meelee weapon combat techniques. A basic driving course with various vehicles, a specialized survival training and, of course, lots and lots of mountaineering. And on top of that, you'll be trained to act in anomalous spacial conditions, courtesy of on-field experts. That's certainly not our daily bread, but it's still better than panicking or throwing up in times of need. Any more doubts?» Both agents shook their heads. «All right then, some more useful information. Should you encounter a kind of anomaly that SSM-X isn't trained to handle, report to the base and call someone who knows what they're doing, whether it's //Mater Morbi// or //Subterranea//. Don't be ashamed of it, we've already lost too many people for not acknowledging our own lack of preparation in time. Which leads us to the next point: one of our tasks will be to escort those who know what they're doing to the anomaly, since they usually don't have the slightest idea of how to move in the mountains» Demichelis took a deep breath, before going on: «That said, welcome to //Consequentia Glacialis//. Be proud and ignore what the other squads will tell you. They may tell you we're the most useless SSM. That we're nothing but redneck mountaineers with rifles. That we're assholes; well, maybe that's true in my case, but don't be intimidated, because you're going to be among the best trained soldiers in the world and you'll be able to reach and work in places other people can't even dream to see from a distance» Demichelis saluted, and the two rookies readily saluted back. «That said, Sara, do you remember what today is?» Corporal Ferri replied immediately: «23^^th^^ January 2020, lieutenant» Demichelis began mumbling to himself, with a pensive look: «So, summing the numbers in the date... uh... two plus three and... ten! All right, the tenth letter is L. Perfect, then prepare, because tomorrow we're going to Monte Leone to see how you handle it. We'll make it quick, up and down in a day. Wake up at 4 o'clock» «Yes, sir!» the rookies replied. «Ah, you're so eager! I'm really glad. Now, follow Mr. Pino: he'll show you around Area-33 and then he'll take you to your lodgings. Over time, you'll get to choose whether to live in town or stay here» The two rookies stood up, approached the man waiting for them at the door and left with him. Sergeant Fanucci approached Demichelis: «Excellent presentation, Roberto, although you omitted how they were assigned to the facility closest to fucking nowhere in the whole Branch -- and how the superintendence is keeping and eye on their lieutenant, so they can kick him out as soon as he makes one, tiny mistake» The lieutenant replied ironically: «Funny. Remind me of that next time» «So? Care to join us for a beer?» «No, I'm busy. Drink some for me, too» «As you wish. See you tomorrow, then» That said, Fanucci headed to the exit alongside Gallo and Ferri. «See you» Demichelis was left alone in the conference room. He sat down and took his cell phone. He stared at the black screen for a few minutes, before unlocking it and dialing a number. The phone rang for ten seconds, before they answered: «Hello?» «Good evening, Mrs. Piazza, sorry to call so late. I'm Roberto, a colleague of Eric's. I just wanted to pay my respects for your son. I know it's been a month now, but I didn't feel like calling until now» Mrs. Piazza's voice replied faintly: «Thank you for caring anyway, dear» «No problem, tell me if you need anything» She cut short: «Thanks, but there's no need for that. Have a good night» «Good night» That was all Roberto could say, before she ended the call. After a few seconds, lieutenant Demichelis clenched his fists and told himself: «[[[lo-yeti-del-monviso\|I won't let it happen again]]]»	2023-05-13T15:07:00	[ "bureaucracy", "international", "orientation", "tale" ]	SSM-X Orientation - SCP Foundation	4	[ "lo-yeti-del-monviso" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447730385	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orientamento-alla-ssm-x
orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>Tale: Site Nettuno Recruit Orientation<br/> Author: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oreobanane" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3242868); return false;"><img alt="Oreobanane" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3242868&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730560282" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3242868)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oreobanane" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3242868); return false;">Oreobanane</a></span><br/> Original: <a href="http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno\|">Orientamento Reclute al Sito Nettuno</a><br/> Translator: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;"><img alt="Roberto Turati" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7372077&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730560282" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7372077)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;">Roberto Turati</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Break it up. Good morning, Daniele. Good morning, Rachele. Thanks for coming here and helping those present wait. What did you tell them? Small talk and need-to-know stuff for the future personnel of your units? Only the small talk?</p> <p>Good!</p> <p>Welcome to Site Nettuno, everyone. I'm captain Arianna Contadi, the head of this site. That's right: captain. I led <em>Legio Atlantidis</em> for six years, before becoming the director of this site, so it's only natural for the site personnel to still call me captain. Admiral, even, but they prefer captain.</p> <p>Anyway, I see you've already met Daniele Lorenzini and Rachele Siciliani, the captains of our naval units. Only I was missing.</p> <p>So! If you're here, it means you have the physical and scientific skills to be researchers. Or guards, or agents; I know some of you want to join <em>Legio Atlantidis</em>. A fine SSM, isn't it? I've been an agent of theirs for seventeen years. Speaking of which, meet my successor and current captain, Basilio Aramini.</p> <p>Anyway, as you surely know, Site Nettuno is divided into several parts. Why? Because we take care of everything marine or simply linked to aquatic environments, whether it's animals or ships, or even weather phenomena. And it takes space and suitable facilities to retrieve and contain such things. We can't control everything from such a small island. We need to cover a vast sea area, which implies we need to be mobile. We're the only site of the Italian Branch divided into several areas. This is the support area, housing the main research and containment facilities. Then come the two naval units, which sail around Italy to locate and contain some anomalies. And of course, we host SSM-II, <em>Legio Atlantidis</em>. For those who are interested and passed the tests, I'll entrust you to captain Lorenzini, Siciliani and Aramini, once the introduction is over.</p> <p>Any questions? Oh, yes, you. What do you want? Huh? Why is my hair wet? Ah! I've just come back from the sea, I had no time to comb it. Was that such an important question?</p> <p>All right, let's set the record straight: I went to the sea to study the sea bottom, not to have fun. Site Nettuno is no holiday resort. Are you here to enjoy the beach and take strolls along the seafront? Hahahahaha, fools! If you want to do nothing, you're in the wrong place. I want no lazybones in my ranks! The first guy lounging around the workplace will be in serious trouble, I guarantee you!</p> <p>What? I sound too military to you? I'm sorry, why do you think I introduced myself as captain Contadi, rather than doctor Contadi? I already told you, but since you're not listening, let me repeat: before captain Aramini, I was the team leader of SSM-II. I'm the site director, but I'm a soldier above all. And I manage this site the military way. Certain habits die hard. And you know what? I'm not going to change the way I do things, because I think the military way is the most efficient one. Don't you like it? Your funeral. I'm not here to be your mother or your tongue-in-cheek friend, I'm here to make you work and achieve the SCP Foundation's goals. In case you forgot, let me repeat them: secure, contain, protect. There's only one way to achieve these goals: work.</p> <p>Any more questions?</p> <p>What? The medieval ship? Why, that's an anomaly, darling! It's not here for show or for taking strolls! Why would we have a forty meters long galleass, if it were a normal ship? It's <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-050-it">SCP-050-IT</a>! It must be watched carefully when it sails the sea! It must be kept far from ferries, as well as cargo or cruise ships. I'm not going to list the other anomalies contained here, since you'll quickly learn about them. Those are worse. Between <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-019-it">genetically modified sea urchins</a> and <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-013-it">the storms</a>, not to mention <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-044-it">the microorganisms which have to</a>… Daniele, I'll leave the explanations to you, eh?</p> <p>Anyway. We don't need only biologists here, we also need meteorologists, scuba divers, port workers, guards and sailors. There's an ample variety of necessary roles and I expect you rookies to do your job properly. I want everyone to be careful all the time, and no one can afford a single mistake. The last time someone made a mistake, we almost lost a naval unit.</p> <p>That's right, this isn't heaven. The sea is full of surprises and it often turns out to be hell. If you think it's easy and peaceful, well, go home and look for a different job.</p> <p>Are you all staying? Perfect, I see you get it.</p> <p>Now, for those who wish to join the naval units, I'll leave you to captain Lorenzini and Siciliani, who will explain their job better than me. For those who were assigned to <em>Legio Atlantidis</em>, I'll leave you to captain Aramini, since SSM-II is now his, not mine. Meteorologists? Follow doctor Ferrante. Shipboard personnel? Follow agent Salvino. I'm leaving: I want to behold the newest anomaly in the site. Ah, before I forget: follow me, biologists, I'm sure you're going to like this new anomaly.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno">Site Nettuno Recruit Orientation</a>" by Oreobanane, translated by Roberto Turati, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno">https://scpwiki.com/orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Tale: Site Nettuno Recruit Orientation Author: [[user Oreobanane]] Original: [http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno\| Orientamento Reclute al Sito Nettuno] Translator: [[user Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] Break it up. Good morning, Daniele. Good morning, Rachele. Thanks for coming here and helping those present wait. What did you tell them? Small talk and need-to-know stuff for the future personnel of your units? Only the small talk? Good! Welcome to Site Nettuno, everyone. I'm captain Arianna Contadi, the head of this site. That's right: captain. I led //Legio Atlantidis// for six years, before becoming the director of this site, so it's only natural for the site personnel to still call me captain. Admiral, even, but they prefer captain. Anyway, I see you've already met Daniele Lorenzini and Rachele Siciliani, the captains of our naval units. Only I was missing. So! If you're here, it means you have the physical and scientific skills to be researchers. Or guards, or agents; I know some of you want to join //Legio Atlantidis//. A fine SSM, isn't it? I've been an agent of theirs for seventeen years. Speaking of which, meet my successor and current captain, Basilio Aramini. Anyway, as you surely know, Site Nettuno is divided into several parts. Why? Because we take care of everything marine or simply linked to aquatic environments, whether it's animals or ships, or even weather phenomena. And it takes space and suitable facilities to retrieve and contain such things. We can't control everything from such a small island. We need to cover a vast sea area, which implies we need to be mobile. We're the only site of the Italian Branch divided into several areas. This is the support area, housing the main research and containment facilities. Then come the two naval units, which sail around Italy to locate and contain some anomalies. And of course, we host SSM-II, //Legio Atlantidis//. For those who are interested and passed the tests, I'll entrust you to captain Lorenzini, Siciliani and Aramini, once the introduction is over. Any questions? Oh, yes, you. What do you want? Huh? Why is my hair wet? Ah! I've just come back from the sea, I had no time to comb it. Was that such an important question? All right, let's set the record straight: I went to the sea to study the sea bottom, not to have fun. Site Nettuno is no holiday resort. Are you here to enjoy the beach and take strolls along the seafront? Hahahahaha, fools! If you want to do nothing, you're in the wrong place. I want no lazybones in my ranks! The first guy lounging around the workplace will be in serious trouble, I guarantee you! What? I sound too military to you? I'm sorry, why do you think I introduced myself as captain Contadi, rather than doctor Contadi? I already told you, but since you're not listening, let me repeat: before captain Aramini, I was the team leader of SSM-II. I'm the site director, but I'm a soldier above all. And I manage this site the military way. Certain habits die hard. And you know what? I'm not going to change the way I do things, because I think the military way is the most efficient one. Don't you like it? Your funeral. I'm not here to be your mother or your tongue-in-cheek friend, I'm here to make you work and achieve the SCP Foundation's goals. In case you forgot, let me repeat them: secure, contain, protect. There's only one way to achieve these goals: work. Any more questions? What? The medieval ship? Why, that's an anomaly, darling! It's not here for show or for taking strolls! Why would we have a forty meters long galleass, if it were a normal ship? It's [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-050-it\|SCP-050-IT]]]! It must be watched carefully when it sails the sea! It must be kept far from ferries, as well as cargo or cruise ships. I'm not going to list the other anomalies contained here, since you'll quickly learn about them. Those are worse. Between [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-019-it\|genetically modified sea urchins]]] and [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-013-it\|the storms]]], not to mention [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-044-it\|the microorganisms which have to]]]... Daniele, I'll leave the explanations to you, eh? Anyway. We don't need only biologists here, we also need meteorologists, scuba divers, port workers, guards and sailors. There's an ample variety of necessary roles and I expect you rookies to do your job properly. I want everyone to be careful all the time, and no one can afford a single mistake. The last time someone made a mistake, we almost lost a naval unit. That's right, this isn't heaven. The sea is full of surprises and it often turns out to be hell. If you think it's easy and peaceful, well, go home and look for a different job. Are you all staying? Perfect, I see you get it. Now, for those who wish to join the naval units, I'll leave you to captain Lorenzini and Siciliani, who will explain their job better than me. For those who were assigned to //Legio Atlantidis//, I'll leave you to captain Aramini, since SSM-II is now his, not mine. Meteorologists? Follow doctor Ferrante. Shipboard personnel? Follow agent Salvino. I'm leaving: I want to behold the newest anomaly in the site. Ah, before I forget: follow me, biologists, I'm sure you're going to like this new anomaly. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Oreobanane, translated by Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-15T21:22:00	[ "_licensebox", "bureaucracy", "first-person", "international", "military-fiction", "orientation", "tale" ]	Site Nettuno Recruit Orientation - SCP Foundation	3	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "lorecon2023", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447748314	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orientamento-reclute-al-sito-nettuno
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</span><span class="hl-reserved">min-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">scroll</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-color </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), padding </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear, margin </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">thin</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">ms-scroll-chaining:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overscroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">) /* Thumb / rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-corner</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw + </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"><strong>Orok and the Orchard</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="/grigori-karpin-s-author-page">More by this author</a></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:scp-6500-17">Maybe read this part of SCP-6500, promise it’s short.</a></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub">More from this canon: No Return</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3989">███████, Syria</a>, <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">SCP-3989</span></strong><br/> <em>23 November, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>The helicopter blades began to slow as Varis exited the vehicle onto the dusty plain, several dozen yards away from the boundary marking the containment area. Following him was the giant Klavigar, Orok, standing nearly two and a half meters tall, wearing a thick robe wrapped tightly around his hulking body. Horns sprouted from his forehead, and his skin had a shade of pale reddish tinge. Behind him a disheveled man in a Hawaiian shirt carrying a shotgun, and a muscular woman with top knot, tank top and jeans exited the helicopter.</p> <p>“Ugh. At least is not visiting in summer. Would be unpleasant,” Lucretia Popescu said as she scanned the area surrounding the olive grove.</p> <p>“Well, it gets hot in Syria,” Clef said. “Speaking of which, things are hot around here in different ways these days.”</p> <p>“We are far from any fighting out here,” Varis said. “But we will endeavor to be quick.”</p> <p>“<strong>Look, here come your Foundation pawns.</strong>”</p> <p>“Orok, we’re not the… oh forget it,” Varis said as he waved to the approaching MTF agents. Three armed and armored men were walking from the perimeter of the fence where a checkpoint guarded the only entrance in the fence.</p> <p>“Good morning, sir. Director Varga called ahead and let us know you were coming.” The man wore a mustache peppered with grey.</p> <p>“You’re MTF Ψ-7, right?” Clef asked.</p> <p>"Fumigators, yes sir. We guard the fence line and patrol within always keeping twenty meters between us and the anomaly.”</p> <p>“Not much has changed for you since the switch to Vanguard, has it?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“No sir, not much. We still can’t let anyone in here. But with the conflict still raging in other parts of the country, we haven’t gotten much in the way of requests for research parties or dignitaries.”</p> <p>“Let the brass worry about that, Agent,” Clef said.</p> <p>“You know why we’re here, yes?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“Yes sir, your… party is going into the anomaly.”</p> <p>“That’s right.”</p> <p>“I wouldn’t suggest it, sir. Any time spent inside will almost certainly begin to affect you.”</p> <p>“<strong>Not with me here.</strong>”</p> <p>“That’s right, Agent, we are fully prepared,” Varis said.</p> <p>“Very good. We’ll open the gates for you, give me a moment.” The agent walked back to the gate with his colleagues.</p> <p>“What is this anomaly affecting?” Lucretia asked.</p> <p>“When an individual enters the area, they begin to change in subtle ways,” Varis said. “First, a fascination with the area, and the constructs within, then eventually worshipping it. The personnel within were lost entirely during a series of explorations and containment breaches more than five years ago. No one goes near the area now.”</p> <p>“Well! This should be fun,” Lucretia said.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Watchtower-91 – Eckhart House, Yorkshire, England</strong><br/> <em>22 November, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>Varis sat heavily onto a couch in a breakroom of Watchtower-91. Clef poured himself some coffee and sat at a table. Lovataar was pacing around the room.</p> <p>“Please, you’re making me anxious,” Varis said.</p> <p>Lovataar looked at him sharply but sat at the table with Clef, who offered her a cup of coffee.</p> <p>“I’m a bit too wired as it is, thank you.”</p> <p>Clef shrugged and sipped at his cup.</p> <p>“What has you agitated, Lovataar?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“The whole flight back from <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/an-assembly-of-sarkics">Romania</a> I was thinking about all the things we need to do. You’ve gotten the ball rolling with the gathering of minds but we need to reach out to communities outside of Europe and America. There’s the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4036">Adytite Republic of Polynesia</a> for one, and several other communities in Asia and Oceania.”</p> <p>“We just got back from a mission; can’t you take a breather?” Clef said.</p> <p>“I have been waiting for some forward momentum for centuries. Since He left, it feels like I’ve been wandering. This has been a wake-up call.”</p> <p>“You needn’t have waited for me to start this process.”</p> <p>“I know, but I have been uncomfortable leading since the war with the Mekhanites. I’ve had followers here or there over the centuries, but anytime I had ambitions to begin building again, I would think of all the things we lost during the war and since. And I would deflate.”</p> <p>“Adytum.”</p> <p>“Yes. And the scattering of our people.”</p> <p>Varis stood from the couch and walked to her side, placing a hand on the Klavigar’s shoulder.</p> <p>“We will bring them all together.”</p> <p>“And the city?” she asked.</p> <p>“I want to find out what happened, but first I would like to–”</p> <p>A ruckus from the hall beyond the breakroom doors interrupted him. Shouting could be heard as three Vanguard security agents barged into the room, walking backwards while trying to hold back a single muscular woman.</p> <p>“What is the meaning of this?” Varis boomed.</p> <p>“She just won’t stop!”</p> <p>“Yes, there being no reason for me to stop,” the muscular woman said as she pushed the three agents away from her, sending one onto his ass. She pointed at Varis. “You. I will be speaking with you.”</p> <p>Varis looked sympathetically to the agent as he helped the man up.</p> <p>“Sorry, sir. She’s very strong.”</p> <p>“That’s alright, Agent.” Varis looked into the woman’s eyes. “Who are you and what do you want?”</p> <p>“My name is <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/resurrection-new-faces-hub">Lucretia Popescu</a>, and I am agent too. What do I want he asks! I want to know what you think you are doing with Black Hunter Lodge.”</p> <p>“I am not doing anything with them.”</p> <p>“Wrong! I read reports from <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkic-heat">Moscow</a>, you give all Hunter Lodge amnesty!”</p> <p>“Not all of them,” Clef said.</p> <p>“I am not speaking to you, Mr. Hawaiian shirt. I am talking to the Karcist here.”</p> <p>Clef laughed.</p> <p>“It is faintly ridiculous you wear that, Clef,” Lovataar said. “And young lady, I think a modicum of respect when talking to a Karcist of Varis’ experience would go a long way.”</p> <p>“Oh, yes, I respect very much. No end of respect for big man deciding all the water under the bridge. Who cares what Lodge has done to people over the years in name of Orok. All the blood and tears and bodies in the tunnels under Moscow, forget all that. As long as we have ancient family together, everything peachy and keen.”</p> <p>“A significant amount of the criminal organization has been dismantled and many of the worst offenders have been turned over to the Russian authorities, actually.” Varis could not help smiling at this woman who had a solid foot on him and looked as if she could rip him in two. “You sound like a bad cartoon, Agent Popescu.”</p> <p>“Well, not all of us having time to learn all the languages, Mr. I-Have-Been-Alive-for-Centuries. I spent childhood in Lodge’s tender care, grew up with the blood in the fighting pits, and then I get contained by Foundation and recruited after several years in cell. So, no, I have not mastered English to level you would like. My girlfriend is teaching me, I am working on it.”</p> <p>“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m very tired.”</p> <p>“I do not care if you are tired, Karcist. I care about atrocities in name of Orok. I care about thousands dead. I care about the years I spent with Lodge and all the scars I would have if not for abilities.”</p> <p>“As I said, we are screening those within the organization to weed out those responsible for the most heinous of crimes: slavery, murder, kidnapping, etc. We are doing this with the aid of Orok himself, who did not condone the activities of his followers during his long sleep.”</p> <p>“Oh, Orok is doing what? Exit interviews?”</p> <p>Clef and Lovataar laughed. Varis tried not to but could not help but continue his smile.</p> <p>“I think you’ll find that we are making a lot of progress. And there’s bound to be growing pains, but I have recently decided to bring the majority of Nälkän communities under the auspices of a diplomatic collective, and that does include some amnesty for activities that would be frowned upon by the outside world. So many of them, including most of the Lodge, were only doing what they needed to survive during the long years of diaspora.”</p> <p>“Well, then, I guess I need to speak with Orok then. Where is?”</p> <p>Varis smiled as he looked over her shoulder.</p> <p>“Is right behind me, isn’t he?”</p> <p>“<strong>Yes.</strong>”</p> <p>Lucretia turned to look at the imposing figure, towering over even her nearly two-meter height. She stood up straight, placing both hands on her hips.</p> <p>“Brother, hello!” Lovataar ran to the giant and leapt onto him, wrapping her arms around his tree trunk of a neck.</p> <p>“<strong>It is so good to see you!</strong>”</p> <p>He twirled her around and kissed her on the lips before placing her back on the ground.</p> <p>“I thought you left, Klavigar,” Varis said.</p> <p>“<strong>I remained to see if you brought another prodigal home.</strong>” He looked down at Lucretia with a stern look. “<strong>But I see you have brought home two.</strong>”</p> <p>“I am not a prodigal, I have been here longer than you.”</p> <p>“We were just getting introduced to Agent Popescu. I believe she’s one of yours.”</p> <p>“No, unless you mean blood slave, I am not one of his.”</p> <p>“<strong>What Varis said before is right, I did not have any influence over the Lodge during my long sleep. But, and although I appreciate the benefit of Varis’ charity, I would have endorsed such behavior in the time before my sleep began.</strong>”</p> <p>“Then I have my bone to pick with you!”</p> <p>“Really, brother? Slavery is not a good look,” Lovataar said.</p> <p>“<strong>Am I not the Prophet of Conquest in the verses? Years ago, the world was different. We are, or it is better to say, were a conquering people. But the world has changed in many ways. Had I been awake, and in control, my opinion would have changed with it. I will not pretend my hands are clean in the days of battle over the countless centuries, but I see now that the conqueror should have no place in the world as it exists today.</strong>”</p> <p>“So, it is only old you I have problem with,” Lucretia said.</p> <p>“<strong>You are a brave thing, standing in front of a Klavigar and demanding justice.</strong>”</p> <p>“I have <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/resurrection-his-will-be-done-hub">faced down gods</a> and the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/shut-it-down">warping of reality</a> since joining Foundation, I do not think you are so scary as that.”</p> <p>“Vanguard, if you please, Agent. We are not the Foundation anymore.”</p> <p>“Yes yes, whatever. Time it will tell if that is so accurate.”</p> <p>Orok turned towards Varis. “<strong>I have something I must speak to you about.</strong>”</p> <p>“Another mission, I suppose.”</p> <p>“<strong>Yes.</strong>”</p> <p>“Fine, but I am going to take a shower first. Clef, don’t let them kill each other while I’m gone.” Varis walked out of the room.</p> <p>“What the hell am I supposed to do about it? Shoot them?” Clef called after him.</p> <p>“<strong>I would not suggest that.</strong>”</p> <p>Lucretia laughed. Bone shed from her skin and wrapped her knuckles; her stature grew with additional muscle. “Yes, don’t be shooting me, Hawaiian Shirt.”</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3989">███████, Syria</a>, <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">SCP-3989</span></strong><br/> <em>23 November, 2021</em> – <em>Just after sunset</em></p> </div> <p>The agents had opened the gate and the four had proceeded to walk easterly towards the center of the olive grove hiding the anomaly.</p> <p>“Where did Lovataar get to?” Clef asked.</p> <p>“She is working with Dr. Low to formulate a diplomatic mission to our Asian communities,” Varis answered. “Besides, this felt like something we needed to do with Orok present.”</p> <p>“<strong>Seeing as I brought it to your attention.</strong>”</p> <p>“I had it on my list of things to address with you. As you can imagine, bringing together all Nälkän people is taxing.”</p> <p>“You both read the files, right?” Clef asked.</p> <p>“<strong>I know what is inside. Or at least, I knew what it was when I was last here.</strong>”</p> <p>“What about you?” Clef asked Lucretia.</p> <p>“Skimmed it. Blood and bone trees. Big muscle men with teeth. Make us all crazy in love with trees and him.” She hooked a thumb at Orok.</p> <p>“Great.”</p> <p>“<strong>These things were set about by my hand. They will listen to me.</strong>”</p> <p>“Let’s hope you’re right, my friend,” Varis said.</p> <p>They walked along a dirt road through olive trees in the crisp November night air.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Watchtower-91 – Eckhart House, Yorkshire, England</strong><br/> <em>23 November, 2021</em> – <em>Several Hours Earlier</em></p> </div> <p>“What are you proposing?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“<strong>We go to the orchard. Bring them to heel, whoever is in there. Bring them into the fold.</strong>”</p> <p>“This isn’t like your Lodge,” Clef said. “Everything alive in there is not even remotely human.”</p> <p>“<strong>Whatever they are, is on me.</strong>”</p> <p>“Four-meter-tall flesh colossi, humanoids with vertical mouths, and some abominable intelligence that proclaims you a patron of betrayal and loyalty.”</p> <p>“<strong>Yes, well, it has been a long time since I was there. They are rudderless.</strong>”</p> <p>“No offense, my Klavigar, but this is becoming a pattern,” Varis said. “You set these things in motion and they grow into something dangerous.”</p> <p>“<strong>Am I not dangerous, Varis? Am I not war personified in flesh? It is as it should be. They are dangerous because they must be.</strong>”</p> <p>“What happened there?”</p> <p>“<strong>It was after the war with the Machine cult, and after Adytum vanished. Ion was gone. Lovataar, Nadox and Saarn were I know not where. I needed soldiers. So my Karcists and I went about creating an army. Then we marched east into what was not then known as Russia. I was so sure Adytum was destroyed by what was left of the Daeva, I needed an army.</strong>”</p> <p>“And what? You left monster maker grove still running?” Lucretia asked.</p> <p>“<strong>Daughter, I will say this one more time, show me res–</strong>”</p> <p>“I. Am. Not. Your. Daughter.”</p> <p>“<strong>My followers formed the Lodge and gave you this life. And look at you, so strong you would face down a Klavigar. You should be proud.</strong>”</p> <p>“Your fucking Lodge killed my parents and kidnapped me, turned me into slave fighting for fucking amusement. They made me this to make fights more entertaining. Everything I have lost, is on you. Don’t call me that.”</p> <p>“<strong>Understood,</strong>” Orok said. He smiled. “<strong>I like you. Come with us.</strong>”</p> <p>“Yes, well, let’s get back to the subject at hand. How do you propose we go about this, Orok?” Varis asked.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3989">███████, Syria</a>, <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">SCP-3989</span></strong><br/> <em>23 November, 2021</em> – <em>Just after sunset</em></p> </div> <p>“<strong>We will approach on foot, and when we are addressed by the thing inside, I will speak to it.</strong>”</p> <p>“Why?” Lucretia asked.</p> <p>“<strong>I am its maker. It will heed me.</strong>”</p> <p>“From the files, it sounds like they worship you like a god,” Clef said.</p> <p>“<strong>Be silent, little man. I am no one’s god.</strong>”</p> <p>“Agent Popescu makes a good point. You should be prepared for the possibility they do not kowtow before you,” Varis said.</p> <p>“What about the cognitohazard?” Clef asked.</p> <p>“We should be able to adjust our systems to keep the vector out,” Varis answered while looking at Lucretia.</p> <p>“Yes, of course, I can do this. Feel it at the edges now.”</p> <p>“<strong>Of course.</strong>”</p> <p>“And me?” Clef asked.</p> <p>“I believe, much like the effects in that <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-sarkic-by-any-other-name">Massachusetts community</a>, it should have no effect on you because of your anomalous immunity.”</p> <p>“Very reassuring.”</p> <p>Lucretia pointed ahead down the road at a tree made of bones and red, wet foliage.</p> <p>“Looks like we’ll see soon enough.”</p> <p>They continued on in silence for the next hundred meters until they were fully inside the non-Euclidean space of the orchard. Large white maggots crawled along the earth and through the bone trees. The trees were more like large, vibrantly white spines and the branches like strings of finger bones. Viscerally crimson berries hung from the trees, sometimes large enough to fill the palm of Lucretia’s hand.</p> <p>“It is beautiful in smelly way,” Lucretia said.</p> <p>“It does smell like something died,” Clef said as he trained the shotgun around the trees to either side of the road.</p> <p>“<strong>Remember, do not damage the trees. The guardians are docile unless the orchard is hurt.</strong>”</p> <p>“We remember, Orok,” Varis said. “But speaking of the guardians, here is one now.”</p> <p>A towering giant, almost twice as tall as Orok emerged from between two of the trees. Bulging glistening muscles shone under the moonlight, as the giant lacked any skin. It approached the four and stopped only a few meters away. Even at rest, the sound of its breathing rasped so loud as to be a car engine.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>Who brings me the sweet smell of betrayal this night?</em>”</span></p> <p>“That didn’t come from this thing,” Clef said.</p> <p>“<strong>No, it did not.</strong>”</p> <p>Orok looked around them for a moment, but finding nothing tilted his head upwards.</p> <p>“<strong>I am Orok. Your maker. We have come to see your progress.</strong>”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>Orok? Is it you</em>?”</span></p> <p>“<strong>Yes, my creature. I have returned from the wilds to bring you into the fold. We are building a new empire with all the children of Ion, you should not be out here in the dark all alone.</strong>”</p> <p>Varis looked askance at Orok as he said “empire.” Orok shrugged.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>Alone? I am not alone. There are many of us here, one who says he is Orok. My maker would know that</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>Two millennia ago, I came to this valley with my Karcists. Seeding the orchard and tending it. I grew my army and marched East, as you knew. Things happened there and I have been waylaid. But I am here now, to see how you grow in my absence.</strong>”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>They said a pretender might someday return with claims of kinship. They said you would come. I name thee falsehood</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>How dare you?! I am your creator. I can rend this place from the earth as surely as I sowed those seeds! Show me your respect.</strong>”</p> <p>“This is not the way to handle this,” Clef said.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>In the years since Orok walked this valley, we have been visited by the Ozi̮rmok. He told us that we must grow strong, for a time of reckoning is coming to all those who would undermine his works. You are not Orok. Orok would not defy the Ozi̮rmok. Orok would not deny our work for the Grand Karcist</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>Ion was here?</strong>” Orok met eyes with Varis. “<strong>Could it be?</strong>”</p> <p>Varis was shaking his head as the voice started again.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>I name thee pretender, not-Orok. You will feed the garden</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>Listen to me–</strong>”</p> <p>“Time for talking is over, big man. Even bigger thing is angry!” Lucretia said as she stepped out to meet the flesh colossus. The colossus stepped forward and swung its fist at Lucretia in a backhand motion. She pirouetted, barely glancing off the swing, and leapt between its legs. Varis and Clef tore through the trees and cut around, following Lucretia into the underbrush of calcium and blood. Orok grinned and crouched, dug his hands into the dirt and flung nearly a hundred pounds of moist red earth into the giant’s face.</p> <p>The behemoth howled in pain, digging at its eyes, as Orok swung in a circle around the struggling thing. He followed the others until they were all out of sight.</p> <p>“<strong>We need to get moving before more of them come.</strong>”</p> <p>“Where we going?” Lucretia asked.</p> <p>“There’s a temple further in,” Varis said.</p> <p>“And what happens once we get there?”</p> <p>“<strong>A reckoning.</strong>”</p> <p>“Terrific. Really glad I came with. Is like party.”</p> <hr/> <p>The four hurried down the path, hiding when one of the giant guardians passed close, and before very long they could see a black stone temple complex down in the center of the valley. In roughly concentric circles, the bone trees bent down towards the floor of the valley with the temple waiting for them. The ground around them was moist with blood and viscera, the air smelled of copper and cinnamon.</p> <p>“There,” Varis said while pointing.</p> <p>“Sorry, but did thing just pop up?” Lucretia asked.</p> <p>“<strong>It did.</strong>”</p> <p>“What did you do here?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“<strong>I needed an army.</strong>”</p> <p>“So you said before.”</p> <p>“<strong>Armies need time to grow.</strong>”</p> <p>Varis looked around at the trees surrounding them, the pulsing leaves of blood and flesh at the end of the calcified branches. As the wind rustled the trees, they gave a crackling groaning noise.</p> <p>“<strong>So I made them a place where they could grow strong, away from prying machine cult eyes, or Daevite assassins.</strong>”</p> <p>“And then you left it to grow,” Clef said. “For centuries.”</p> <p>“<strong>I was diverted.</strong></p> <p>“Why did you begin your long sleep?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“<strong>It was–</strong>”</p> <p>“Get down!” Lucretia whispered fiercely.</p> <p>One of the flesh giants was getting closer scanning the trees and ground, back and forth. Lucretia, Varis, and Clef backed away behind a thick copse of bone trees. Orok did not.</p> <p>“Hey!” Lucretia hissed.</p> <p>“<strong>No more hiding.</strong>” Orok crossed his arms in front of his chest as the skinless fist slammed down and sent even him sprawling.</p> <p>“Хуй!” Lucretia howled as she ran out towards the colossus from behind.</p> <p>Each step she took she grew, filling her form with muscle and stature, covering her skin with bone plates, little protrusions of spurs extruding from her knuckles and spine, ripping through her tank top. She swung her hands in a double fisted hammer, striking just below the knee. An impact like a cannon shot echoed down the valley. The colossus’ lower leg folded in half, the creature struggling to keep its footing.</p> <p>The colossus roared in pain; its wide mouth full of teeth bared. Orok roared back at its face. The Klavigar vaulted towards the thing’s neck, his fingers ripping into the exposed muscle for handholds, and swung around to its large back. The colossus swung its arms frantically for the Klavigar, but he ignored it, bracing his feet against the spine and pulling backwards on the neck just below its jaw.</p> <p>“<strong>For Adytum!</strong>”</p> <p>The spine cracked like a tree trunk being split under its own weight. The colossus made a faint whimpering sound as it collapsed in a twitching mess. Orok leapt free from the falling guardian, landing on his feet a few meters away from its quivering body.</p> <p>Orok turned as a loud boom echoed through the trees. Clef was standing over the giant’s head with a smoking shotgun, the ruptured cranium spilling wet brains over the orchard’s ground. The maggots rushed across the crimson stained earth to climb into the newly formed cavity in the skull.</p> <p>“Just in case.”</p> <p>Lucretia scanned the trees around them. “Come on, come on. Let’s keep moving, yes?”</p> <p>Orok nodded and started running towards the temple. The others fell in line behind him. They weaved between the bone trees, crushing the worms into the wet earth. The sky took on a yellow tinge and the howls of their gargantuan pursuers echoed through the trees. After a few hundred yards, Clef started to huff.</p> <p>“This isn’t as easy for us normal humans!”</p> <p>Without missing a beat, Lucretia swooped down, threw Clef over her shoulder in a fireman carry, and continued running. Another hundred meters and the temple was growing larger in front of them. The space was playing tricks on her perceptions as it seemed they hadn’t made much progress into the valley, more like the temple was moving closer to meet them halfway. The air lost the smell of cinnamon and just smelled of stone dust and moist copper, hot and tangy on the tongue. And then, they were in front of it. Hundreds of meters just melted away and suddenly, the four of them were in a courtyard in front of the black temple. She blinked and looked around.</p> <p>“Uh, guys… things just go wibbly wobbly.”</p> <p>“<strong>It is the nature of this place to obfuscate reality, but this seems more like a welcome than a deceit.</strong>”</p> <p>“If it is a welcome, I would bet real money there’s a bear trap under the mat,” Clef said as Lucretia put him down.</p> <p>The stone temple rose nearly twenty-five meters in the air, forming a ziggurat with a U-shaped protrusion at its peak. The material at first glance resembled obsidian but was warm to the touch and vibrating.</p> <p>“Like shell of bug. I hate it.”</p> <p>“Whatever it is, we need to get inside and away from them,” Varis said as he looked back the way they had come. A dozen of the gargantuan skinless entities stood in a semi-circle around the courtyard.</p> <p>“At least they are keeping the distance from us. I don’t think I could fight this many at once.”</p> <p>“<strong>Speak for yourself child.</strong>”</p> <p>“Yes, big Orok is man. We are all very impressed,” Lucretia responded as she started climbing the stairs.</p> <p>Orok sighed and looked towards Varis who shrugged. “You may not have personally offended her, but she has plenty of reasons to be cross with you.” Varis headed up the stairs after her.</p> <p>“She has many!” Lucretia called back down the zigurrat.</p> <p>“I like her,” Clef said.</p> <p>Orok looked around the crowd of fleshless constructs as if considering getting in a fight with them rather than climbing the stairs. But eventually, he followed.</p> <hr/> <p>Twenty meters up the rough stairs on the outside of the ziggurat felt a lot longer than it should have to Varis. Twenty minutes passed and they still were not at the top. To make matters worse, each step vibrated beneath their feet, clearly alive. He looked up the staircase to the U-shaped protrusion which was easier to perceive at this angle and distance. It looked like as if through accretion, the ziggurat had grown itself a crown. The air was hazy yellow and there was a tone in the air like the distant ringing of a bell that paused mid-note and just stretched out to infinity. It was giving Varis a headache.</p> <p>He turned and looked over his shoulder to the courtyard now seemingly much more than twenty meters below them. The giants stood there still, faintly visible through the haze and howling into the air. Clef came up beside him as they slowly trudged up the seemingly endless stair.</p> <p>“What is the plan here, chief?” Clef asked.</p> <p>“I truly don’t know. Orok is sure he can talk sense into them, but it seems unlikely given what communication we’ve already had. We need to be ready to make a quick exit if possible or fight our way out.”</p> <p>“I’m always ready for that. But I don’t like our odds given the documentation in the file. Those researchers who made it this far saw a damn army of entities within the temple.”</p> <p>Varis nodded silently and looked again up at the protrusion at the peak.</p> <p>“What is that, anyway?”</p> <p>“Reminds me of an antenna. But what would this place need to receive or send messages from or to? Besides which, it is clearly organic like the rest of this building.”</p> <p>Finally, they reached the top and saw there was a door into the interior beneath the protrusion. Clef examined the giant U-shape as Orok steadily marched towards the door. Varis looked over at Clef, indicating they should follow.</p> <p>“I’ll catch up.”</p> <p>Varis followed Orok with Lucretia down a short flight of stairs to an organic portcullis that was steadily opening as they approached. Orok seemed uninterested in the structure, powering through and down into the temple.</p> <p>“Was this place like this when you were first here? Did you build this?” Varis asked.</p> <p>“<strong>No. They have been productive.</strong>”</p> <p>“Please tell me you have more of a plan than that this entity surrender to your will.”</p> <p>“<strong>It attacked me, its creator. This is not a moment for surrender.</strong>”</p> <p>“Finally, you are saying things I like,” Lucretia said.</p> <p>“Listen to me, Orok. We cannot just march in and start a fight. These constructs have been building and biding their time for millennia. We are wildly outnumbered.”</p> <p>“<strong>I am aware. And I have a plan.</strong>”</p> <p>Orok continued his brisk pace, quickly pulling away from Varis.</p> <p>“And what would that plan be?”</p> <p>When the Klavigar did not respond, Lucretia laughed.</p> <p>“Inspiring leadership. I feel like Russia was a good place for you to be. Is like good old bad days.”</p> <p>Varis sighed and then rushed to follow the Klavigar. In short order they were in a grand open auditorium space, surrounded by four sets of amphitheater style seating and centered on a grand daïs carved from bone and hosting several stone altars large enough to let a grown human lay down lengthwise. The amphitheater seats were full of dozens upon dozens of humanoid entities nearly two meters in height, their heads twisted to the side giving the appearance of vertical mouths filled with teeth. Many had grown chitinous armor plates covering their limbs and torsos. Varis saw quite a few had horns growing out of the crowns of their heads, resembling the U-shaped protrusion at the top of the ziggurat. Most of the crowd were armed with various bladed weapons apparently grown from their forearms.</p> <p>The entire crowd droned in old Adytite, with an accent Varis could not quite place. They sang of the Ozi̮rmok vanquishing the Archons and ascending through the layers of reality to face against the Devourer. And they sang of his return nearly a century previous.</p> <p>“That’s the second reference to Ion returning that’s been made,” Varis said.</p> <p>“<strong>What do they mean? If Ion had come back here but met with none of us… unless he came to Nadox or Saarn, without coming to Lovataar or I.</strong>”</p> <p>“If he had returned, he would have come to you. That is beyond debate. But this is not the first time I’ve been told Ion returned by a delusional entity.”</p> <p>“<strong>What?</strong>”</p> <p>“Karcist Karvas. Or the man who named himself that, in Massachusetts. He said that Ion had given him the mission to convert the town and changed him.”</p> <p>“<strong>Why didn’t you tell me this?</strong>”</p> <p>“Because he was so insane, he once tore off his arms to get out of some restraints,” Clef said as he came from behind them. He looked around at the dozens of entities. “This is not good.”</p> <p>“Of course, is not good. What about this day has been good? Хуй,” Lucretia said as she scanned the singing crowd.</p> <p>“<strong>Where is this man?</strong>”</p> <p>“In a holding cell, in Massachusetts. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is we have someone going around claiming to be the reborn Ozi̮rmok and encouraging Nälkä communities into violence.”</p> <p>“<strong>You’re right. That is a problem. But it is not a problem for right now, I think.</strong>”</p> <p>Lucretia pointed at the altars. “Who is to get sacrificed?”</p> <p>The entire complex rumbled with the voice as if it were coming through the walls.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>YOU ARE</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>No, that is not what happens today.</strong>”</p> <p>“Anyone noticing is louder here?”</p> <p>“Whatever this construct is, it’s in the body of the temple,” Clef said.</p> <p>“<strong>The structure came alive through our holy work to provide the soldiers of Ion.</strong>”</p> <p>“You didn’t think to mention this before?”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>FALSE FATHER. NOT-OROK. YOU WILL FEED THE HALKOST</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>If I am about to die, tell me of this Ion that visited you.</strong>”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>HE GAVE US PURPOSE AFTER SO MANY SEASONS OF FALLOW FIELDS. GROW, HE SAID. GROW AND BE STRONG. REACH OUT TO THE OTHERVERSE. TOUCH THE NEVERMEANT</em>.”</span></p> <p>Electrical current flowed from the many entities in the stands, sinking into the structure and visibly travelling up the inner surface of the ceiling to circle the peak. The humming sound of the U-shaped protrusion increased in volume, vibrating the entire structure.</p> <p>“What is happening?” Lucretia asked.</p> <p>The ceiling of chitinous material writhed in electrical jubilation, tearing itself open to the sky beyond. But instead of the protrusion on the roof of the temple, they could see a starry night sky. Stars the wrong color, a deep and yet bright shining crimson.</p> <p>“It is not being night yet!”</p> <p>“That’s not our sky.”</p> <p>“<strong>What is this? What are you doing, creature?</strong>”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>TOUCH THE NEVERMEANT. EMBRACE THE PROGENITOR</em>.”</span></p> <p>Orok met Varis’ eyes, who shook his head. “It couldn’t mean…”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>WE HAVE FELT THEIR AGENT HERE IN THE WAKING WORLD FOR MANY SEASONS. WE SHALL OPEN THE WAY</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>Clef.</strong>”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“<strong>Do it.</strong>”</p> <p>“What do you mean?”</p> <p>“<strong>Stop playing the fool. I know why you lingered. Do it now.</strong>”</p> <p>“Orok, what?” Varis asked as Clef brought out a small radio transceiver, roughly three inches long with a stubby antenna.</p> <p>“You’re sure?” Clef asked.</p> <p>Orok nodded, not taking his eyes off those bloody stars above them. Clef depressed a button on the side of the transceiver, immediately setting off a series of explosions muffled by the chitinous building’s structure.</p> <p>The ceiling collapsed in towards them, Orok shielding Clef’s body with his own just as Lucretia grabbed Varis and leapt backwards up the stairs. The structure’s voice shrieked, echoed by the dozens upon dozens of vertical mouths. The wet, organic rubble fell down onto the amphitheater seats, crushing many of the entities.</p> <p>Orok lifted Clef and ran for the entrance.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>FATHER?</em>.”</span></p> <p>Orok spit over his shoulder, slamming into the organic portcullis that had shuddered free of its mooring. Another shrieking sound, followed by the sound of bones breaking, by the sound of a crushed insect under a boot, multiplied by orders of magnitude, causing even Orok’s ears to trickle blood. Lucretia and Varis were following closely after, both a bit battered from the explosion of living building. As they emerged into the hazy yellow air, the ceiling collapsed fully, the U-shaped protrusion falling within still humming.</p> <p>As they ran down the stairs on the outside of the temple, the gargantuan entities clutched their heads against the chittering death screech of the building and whatever waited through the gate. As one, they rose up from their knees and screamed at the four running down the stairs.</p> <p>Clef opened fire on the nearest, taking out huge divots from its chest with his shotgun shells. Lucretia leapt onto another, sinking bone talons nearly twelve centimeters long into the cranium, its mouth giving a wet gurgle as it fell.</p> <p>Varis reached out with both hands made fists, dragging them in a sharp downward motion. Two of the flesh golems fell to their knees, eyes and tongues bursting violently. Orok roared wordlessly, shouldering the leg out from under one of the remaining golems and then ripping it free. He continued to roar as he beat two more to death with the severed leg the size of a tree trunk. Clef made sure each that fell did not get back up with a point-blank blast of the shotgun to the backs of their heads.</p> <p>Lucretia breathed hard as she and Varis faced the last two. She smiled and grew another five inches, sheathing her arms in bony spines and leaping into the torso of one. Her arms sank into the meat nearly to the shoulder, and as she withdrew them, dozens of yards of sticky intestines spilled out onto the already red earth. Varis merely willed the last to lay down, and then closed its eyes with a soft apology.</p> <p>He turned to look at his compatriots, wanting to check if there were any injuries, when the building behind them stopped screeching and bellowed in rage. A crack began at the base of the ziggurat and sped up the side, splitting it in two. The structure opened like a flower, spilling organic rubble to the ground as it reared up, violently reforming into an approximation of a body. Dozens of arms with pincers thrust towards them, shaking with violence. The limbs lifted a roughly oblong body out of the red wet earth, as it lurched forward unsteadily.</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>WHY?!?!</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>Because you have outlived your usefulness. The moment you crossed the first tenet of Ion, your existence became forfeit.</strong>”</p> <p><span class="dblock">“<em>I SERVE THE OZỊRMOK!</em>.”</span></p> <p>“<strong>No. The first tenet in our faith is: No Gods. You are apostate.</strong>”</p> <p>The building-spider-thing ran toward the Klavigar, but he had already dodged behind the nearest spinal tree. It shattered into pieces. One of those bone shards, nearly six meters in length, Orok raised over his head as he bellowed: “<strong>NO GODS.</strong>”</p> <p>The bone javelin flew from Orok’s hand like a cannon shot, piercing the center of the beast and blowing a hole nearly a meter wide straight through to the hazy yellow air behind it. They were all showered in viscera as the temple construct keeled over and collapsed down into the muck.</p> <p>Orok approached the shuddering giant, gently batting away the pincer limbs as they weakly reached for him. He plunged his arms into the wound and began to pull his hands apart. The living temple mewled as he forced the wound wider and wider, until finally even its eldritch structure could no longer hold together. The sound of the construct ripping in two was like a wet explosion, echoing across the valley. The mostly severed two halves of the gargantuan entity shuddered for another moment and then lay still.</p> <p>The Klavigar approached Clef and nodded, planting a wet hand on his shoulder and patting. He turned to Varis and Lucretia. Varis stared at the steaming wreck of the once living temple and swore in Old Adytite.</p> <p>“Let’s be getting out of here.”</p> <p>Lucretia headed off the way they had come, ignoring the shifting sky above her, the slowly fading haze, the shriveling bone trees. Orok laughed. He turned and looked down the length of the valley. He could literally see space folding in on itself, the non-Euclidean space losing its anomalous dimensions as the living landscape blackened in real time.</p> <p>Varis walked after Lucretia, with Clef at his side.</p> <p>Clef lit a cigarette. “Well?”</p> <p>“I’m tired, Alto.”</p> <p>“No shit. Me too. Not the point, though. What are we going to do about this?”</p> <p>“Clean the valley, burn anything left for fear of its taint getting into the environment. Make sure we keep observation on the area in case something managed to get through.”</p> <p>“No, I meant about this fake Ion. That’s twice now whoever he is has encouraged <a href="/scp-2480">something like this</a>.”</p> <p>Varis nodded. “It’s a problem.”</p> <p>“We need to find the rest of them. If anyone can sniff out a fake Ion, it’s the four Klavigars.”</p> <p>“<strong>Yes. Saarn and Nadox must know something. They were always more connected to the world than I.</strong>” Orok followed them at a slow pace, his whole body covered in viscera and drying blood.</p> <p>Lucretia looked back at the other three trailing behind her. She pointed over their shoulders.</p> <p>“If you don’t want to be folded into neat little meat pies, it is time to be putting a fucking move on.”</p> <p>The sound of the valley’s anomalous space folding in on itself, to be slowly overwritten by the olive trees that should have always existed there, was like nothing Varis could describe. The smell of wet copper and cinnamon faded, replaced with hot rich, black earth and the sound of leaves shifting in the wind.</p> <p>As they reached the border of where real met the unreal, surrounded by drying corpses of maggots, Lucretia slapped the Klavigar’s bicep. As tall as she was, her head only came up to his chest, so she had to reach up and fully extend her arm.</p> <p>“I have never been seeing something like that in all my years,” Lucretia said. “I am impressed.”</p> <p>“<strong>Finally, some respect from you!</strong>”</p> <p>“Don’t expect much more. You’re still a dick.”</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/an-assembly-of-sarkics">An Assembly of Sarkics <<= Previous</a> \| <em>Orok and the Orchard</em> \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/two-sarkics-take-a-vacation-in-polynesia-stop-me-if-youve-he">Next => Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You've Heard This One</a></strong></p> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-offices-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-offices-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-human-resources">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-human-resources</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:collapsible-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:collapsible-sidebar</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png"); --header-title: "ANGUARD"; --header-subtitle: "SHELTER - NORMALIZE - INFORM"; --header-h2-font-size: 1.1em; } #header::before { left: -9.5rem; filter: brightness(125%); opacity: 1; } #header h1 a::before { font-size: unset; } #header h2::before { color: #fe4; } #header h2 { top: 1em; } #header #login-status { left: -2vw; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header::before { left: -7rem; } #header h1 { top: 0.5em; left: 0.5em; } } #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"]]Orok and the Orchard[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[[grigori-karpin-s-author-page \| More by this author]]] @@ @@ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:scp-6500-17 \| Maybe read this part of SCP-6500, promise it’s short.]]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub More from this canon: No Return] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3989 ███████, Syria], --SCP-3989-- //23 November, 2021// [[/=]] The helicopter blades began to slow as Varis exited the vehicle onto the dusty plain, several dozen yards away from the boundary marking the containment area. Following him was the giant Klavigar, Orok, standing nearly two and a half meters tall, wearing a thick robe wrapped tightly around his hulking body. Horns sprouted from his forehead, and his skin had a shade of pale reddish tinge. Behind him a disheveled man in a Hawaiian shirt carrying a shotgun, and a muscular woman with top knot, tank top and jeans exited the helicopter. “Ugh. At least is not visiting in summer. Would be unpleasant,” Lucretia Popescu said as she scanned the area surrounding the olive grove. “Well, it gets hot in Syria,” Clef said. “Speaking of which, things are hot around here in different ways these days.” “We are far from any fighting out here,” Varis said. “But we will endeavor to be quick.” “Look, here come your Foundation pawns.” “Orok, we’re not the… oh forget it,” Varis said as he waved to the approaching MTF agents. Three armed and armored men were walking from the perimeter of the fence where a checkpoint guarded the only entrance in the fence. “Good morning, sir. Director Varga called ahead and let us know you were coming.” The man wore a mustache peppered with grey. “You’re MTF Ψ-7, right?” Clef asked. "Fumigators, yes sir. We guard the fence line and patrol within always keeping twenty meters between us and the anomaly.” “Not much has changed for you since the switch to Vanguard, has it?” Varis asked. “No sir, not much. We still can’t let anyone in here. But with the conflict still raging in other parts of the country, we haven’t gotten much in the way of requests for research parties or dignitaries.” “Let the brass worry about that, Agent,” Clef said. “You know why we’re here, yes?” Varis asked. “Yes sir, your… party is going into the anomaly.” “That’s right.” “I wouldn’t suggest it, sir. Any time spent inside will almost certainly begin to affect you.” “Not with me here.” “That’s right, Agent, we are fully prepared,” Varis said. “Very good. We’ll open the gates for you, give me a moment.” The agent walked back to the gate with his colleagues. “What is this anomaly affecting?” Lucretia asked. “When an individual enters the area, they begin to change in subtle ways,” Varis said. “First, a fascination with the area, and the constructs within, then eventually worshipping it. The personnel within were lost entirely during a series of explorations and containment breaches more than five years ago. No one goes near the area now.” “Well! This should be fun,” Lucretia said. ------ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] Watchtower-91 – Eckhart House, Yorkshire, England //22 November, 2021// [[/=]] Varis sat heavily onto a couch in a breakroom of Watchtower-91. Clef poured himself some coffee and sat at a table. Lovataar was pacing around the room. “Please, you’re making me anxious,” Varis said. Lovataar looked at him sharply but sat at the table with Clef, who offered her a cup of coffee. “I’m a bit too wired as it is, thank you.” Clef shrugged and sipped at his cup. “What has you agitated, Lovataar?” Varis asked. “The whole flight back from [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/an-assembly-of-sarkics \| Romania]]] I was thinking about all the things we need to do. You’ve gotten the ball rolling with the gathering of minds but we need to reach out to communities outside of Europe and America. There’s the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4036 \| Adytite Republic of Polynesia]]] for one, and several other communities in Asia and Oceania.” “We just got back from a mission; can’t you take a breather?” Clef said. “I have been waiting for some forward momentum for centuries. Since He left, it feels like I’ve been wandering. This has been a wake-up call.” “You needn’t have waited for me to start this process.” “I know, but I have been uncomfortable leading since the war with the Mekhanites. I’ve had followers here or there over the centuries, but anytime I had ambitions to begin building again, I would think of all the things we lost during the war and since. And I would deflate.” “Adytum.” “Yes. And the scattering of our people.” Varis stood from the couch and walked to her side, placing a hand on the Klavigar’s shoulder. “We will bring them all together.” “And the city?” she asked. “I want to find out what happened, but first I would like to–” A ruckus from the hall beyond the breakroom doors interrupted him. Shouting could be heard as three Vanguard security agents barged into the room, walking backwards while trying to hold back a single muscular woman. “What is the meaning of this?” Varis boomed. “She just won’t stop!” “Yes, there being no reason for me to stop,” the muscular woman said as she pushed the three agents away from her, sending one onto his ass. She pointed at Varis. “You. I will be speaking with you.” Varis looked sympathetically to the agent as he helped the man up. “Sorry, sir. She’s very strong.” “That’s alright, Agent.” Varis looked into the woman’s eyes. “Who are you and what do you want?” “My name is [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/resurrection-new-faces-hub \| Lucretia Popescu]]], and I am agent too. What do I want he asks! I want to know what you think you are doing with Black Hunter Lodge.” “I am not doing anything with them.” “Wrong! I read reports from [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkic-heat \| Moscow]]], you give all Hunter Lodge amnesty!” “Not all of them,” Clef said. “I am not speaking to you, Mr. Hawaiian shirt. I am talking to the Karcist here.” Clef laughed. “It is faintly ridiculous you wear that, Clef,” Lovataar said. “And young lady, I think a modicum of respect when talking to a Karcist of Varis’ experience would go a long way.” “Oh, yes, I respect very much. No end of respect for big man deciding all the water under the bridge. Who cares what Lodge has done to people over the years in name of Orok. All the blood and tears and bodies in the tunnels under Moscow, forget all that. As long as we have ancient family together, everything peachy and keen.” “A significant amount of the criminal organization has been dismantled and many of the worst offenders have been turned over to the Russian authorities, actually.” Varis could not help smiling at this woman who had a solid foot on him and looked as if she could rip him in two. “You sound like a bad cartoon, Agent Popescu.” “Well, not all of us having time to learn all the languages, Mr. I-Have-Been-Alive-for-Centuries. I spent childhood in Lodge’s tender care, grew up with the blood in the fighting pits, and then I get contained by Foundation and recruited after several years in cell. So, no, I have not mastered English to level you would like. My girlfriend is teaching me, I am working on it.” “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m very tired.” “I do not care if you are tired, Karcist. I care about atrocities in name of Orok. I care about thousands dead. I care about the years I spent with Lodge and all the scars I would have if not for abilities.” “As I said, we are screening those within the organization to weed out those responsible for the most heinous of crimes: slavery, murder, kidnapping, etc. We are doing this with the aid of Orok himself, who did not condone the activities of his followers during his long sleep.” “Oh, Orok is doing what? Exit interviews?” Clef and Lovataar laughed. Varis tried not to but could not help but continue his smile. “I think you’ll find that we are making a lot of progress. And there’s bound to be growing pains, but I have recently decided to bring the majority of Nälkän communities under the auspices of a diplomatic collective, and that does include some amnesty for activities that would be frowned upon by the outside world. So many of them, including most of the Lodge, were only doing what they needed to survive during the long years of diaspora.” “Well, then, I guess I need to speak with Orok then. Where is?” Varis smiled as he looked over her shoulder. “Is right behind me, isn’t he?” “Yes.” Lucretia turned to look at the imposing figure, towering over even her nearly two-meter height. She stood up straight, placing both hands on her hips. “Brother, hello!” Lovataar ran to the giant and leapt onto him, wrapping her arms around his tree trunk of a neck. “It is so good to see you!” He twirled her around and kissed her on the lips before placing her back on the ground. “I thought you left, Klavigar,” Varis said. “I remained to see if you brought another prodigal home.” He looked down at Lucretia with a stern look. “But I see you have brought home two.” “I am not a prodigal, I have been here longer than you.” “We were just getting introduced to Agent Popescu. I believe she’s one of yours.” “No, unless you mean blood slave, I am not one of his.” “What Varis said before is right, I did not have any influence over the Lodge during my long sleep. But, and although I appreciate the benefit of Varis’ charity, I would have endorsed such behavior in the time before my sleep began.” “Then I have my bone to pick with you!” “Really, brother? Slavery is not a good look,” Lovataar said. “Am I not the Prophet of Conquest in the verses? Years ago, the world was different. We are, or it is better to say, were a conquering people. But the world has changed in many ways. Had I been awake, and in control, my opinion would have changed with it. I will not pretend my hands are clean in the days of battle over the countless centuries, but I see now that the conqueror should have no place in the world as it exists today.” “So, it is only old you I have problem with,” Lucretia said. “You are a brave thing, standing in front of a Klavigar and demanding justice.” “I have [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/resurrection-his-will-be-done-hub \| faced down gods]]] and the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/shut-it-down \| warping of reality]]] since joining Foundation, I do not think you are so scary as that.” “Vanguard, if you please, Agent. We are not the Foundation anymore.” “Yes yes, whatever. Time it will tell if that is so accurate.” Orok turned towards Varis. “I have something I must speak to you about.” “Another mission, I suppose.” “Yes.” “Fine, but I am going to take a shower first. Clef, don’t let them kill each other while I’m gone.” Varis walked out of the room. “What the hell am I supposed to do about it? Shoot them?” Clef called after him. “I would not suggest that.” Lucretia laughed. Bone shed from her skin and wrapped her knuckles; her stature grew with additional muscle. “Yes, don’t be shooting me, Hawaiian Shirt.” ----- [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3989 ███████, Syria], --SCP-3989-- //23 November, 2021// – //Just after sunset// [[/=]] The agents had opened the gate and the four had proceeded to walk easterly towards the center of the olive grove hiding the anomaly. “Where did Lovataar get to?” Clef asked. “She is working with Dr. Low to formulate a diplomatic mission to our Asian communities,” Varis answered. “Besides, this felt like something we needed to do with Orok present.” “Seeing as I brought it to your attention.” “I had it on my list of things to address with you. As you can imagine, bringing together all Nälkän people is taxing.” “You both read the files, right?” Clef asked. “I know what is inside. Or at least, I knew what it was when I was last here.” “What about you?” Clef asked Lucretia. “Skimmed it. Blood and bone trees. Big muscle men with teeth. Make us all crazy in love with trees and him.” She hooked a thumb at Orok. “Great.” “These things were set about by my hand. They will listen to me.” “Let’s hope you’re right, my friend,” Varis said. They walked along a dirt road through olive trees in the crisp November night air. ----- [[=]] Watchtower-91 – Eckhart House, Yorkshire, England //23 November, 2021// – //Several Hours Earlier// [[/=]] “What are you proposing?” Varis asked. “We go to the orchard. Bring them to heel, whoever is in there. Bring them into the fold.” “This isn’t like your Lodge,” Clef said. “Everything alive in there is not even remotely human.” “Whatever they are, is on me.” “Four-meter-tall flesh colossi, humanoids with vertical mouths, and some abominable intelligence that proclaims you a patron of betrayal and loyalty.” “Yes, well, it has been a long time since I was there. They are rudderless.” “No offense, my Klavigar, but this is becoming a pattern,” Varis said. “You set these things in motion and they grow into something dangerous.” “Am I not dangerous, Varis? Am I not war personified in flesh? It is as it should be. They are dangerous because they must be.” “What happened there?” “It was after the war with the Machine cult, and after Adytum vanished. Ion was gone. Lovataar, Nadox and Saarn were I know not where. I needed soldiers. So my Karcists and I went about creating an army. Then we marched east into what was not then known as Russia. I was so sure Adytum was destroyed by what was left of the Daeva, I needed an army.” “And what? You left monster maker grove still running?” Lucretia asked. “Daughter, I will say this one more time, show me res–” “I. Am. Not. Your. Daughter.” “My followers formed the Lodge and gave you this life. And look at you, so strong you would face down a Klavigar. You should be proud.” “Your fucking Lodge killed my parents and kidnapped me, turned me into slave fighting for fucking amusement. They made me this to make fights more entertaining. Everything I have lost, is on you. Don’t call me that.” “Understood,” Orok said. He smiled. “I like you. Come with us.” “Yes, well, let’s get back to the subject at hand. How do you propose we go about this, Orok?” Varis asked. ----- [[=]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3989 ███████, Syria], --SCP-3989-- //23 November, 2021// – //Just after sunset// [[/=]] “We will approach on foot, and when we are addressed by the thing inside, I will speak to it.” “Why?” Lucretia asked. “I am its maker. It will heed me.” “From the files, it sounds like they worship you like a god,” Clef said. “Be silent, little man. I am no one’s god.” “Agent Popescu makes a good point. You should be prepared for the possibility they do not kowtow before you,” Varis said. “What about the cognitohazard?” Clef asked. “We should be able to adjust our systems to keep the vector out,” Varis answered while looking at Lucretia. “Yes, of course, I can do this. Feel it at the edges now.” “Of course.” “And me?” Clef asked. “I believe, much like the effects in that [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-sarkic-by-any-other-name \| Massachusetts community]]], it should have no effect on you because of your anomalous immunity.” “Very reassuring.” Lucretia pointed ahead down the road at a tree made of bones and red, wet foliage. “Looks like we’ll see soon enough.” They continued on in silence for the next hundred meters until they were fully inside the non-Euclidean space of the orchard. Large white maggots crawled along the earth and through the bone trees. The trees were more like large, vibrantly white spines and the branches like strings of finger bones. Viscerally crimson berries hung from the trees, sometimes large enough to fill the palm of Lucretia’s hand. “It is beautiful in smelly way,” Lucretia said. “It does smell like something died,” Clef said as he trained the shotgun around the trees to either side of the road. “Remember, do not damage the trees. The guardians are docile unless the orchard is hurt.” “We remember, Orok,” Varis said. “But speaking of the guardians, here is one now.” A towering giant, almost twice as tall as Orok emerged from between two of the trees. Bulging glistening muscles shone under the moonlight, as the giant lacked any skin. It approached the four and stopped only a few meters away. Even at rest, the sound of its breathing rasped so loud as to be a car engine. [[span class="dblock"]]“//Who brings me the sweet smell of betrayal this night?//”[[/span]] “That didn’t come from this thing,” Clef said. “No, it did not.” Orok looked around them for a moment, but finding nothing tilted his head upwards. “I am Orok. Your maker. We have come to see your progress.” [[span class="dblock"]]“//Orok? Is it you//?”[[/span]] “Yes, my creature. I have returned from the wilds to bring you into the fold. We are building a new empire with all the children of Ion, you should not be out here in the dark all alone.” Varis looked askance at Orok as he said “empire.” Orok shrugged. [[span class="dblock"]]“//Alone? I am not alone. There are many of us here, one who says he is Orok. My maker would know that//.”[[/span]] “Two millennia ago, I came to this valley with my Karcists. Seeding the orchard and tending it. I grew my army and marched East, as you knew. Things happened there and I have been waylaid. But I am here now, to see how you grow in my absence.” [[span class="dblock"]]“//They said a pretender might someday return with claims of kinship. They said you would come. I name thee falsehood//.”[[/span]] “How dare you?! I am your creator. I can rend this place from the earth as surely as I sowed those seeds! Show me your respect.” “This is not the way to handle this,” Clef said. [[span class="dblock"]]“//In the years since Orok walked this valley, we have been visited by the Ozi̮rmok. He told us that we must grow strong, for a time of reckoning is coming to all those who would undermine his works. You are not Orok. Orok would not defy the Ozi̮rmok. Orok would not deny our work for the Grand Karcist//.”[[/span]] “Ion was here?” Orok met eyes with Varis. “Could it be?” Varis was shaking his head as the voice started again. [[span class="dblock"]]“//I name thee pretender, not-Orok. You will feed the garden//.”[[/span]] “Listen to me–” “Time for talking is over, big man. Even bigger thing is angry!” Lucretia said as she stepped out to meet the flesh colossus. The colossus stepped forward and swung its fist at Lucretia in a backhand motion. She pirouetted, barely glancing off the swing, and leapt between its legs. Varis and Clef tore through the trees and cut around, following Lucretia into the underbrush of calcium and blood. Orok grinned and crouched, dug his hands into the dirt and flung nearly a hundred pounds of moist red earth into the giant’s face. The behemoth howled in pain, digging at its eyes, as Orok swung in a circle around the struggling thing. He followed the others until they were all out of sight. “We need to get moving before more of them come.” “Where we going?” Lucretia asked. “There’s a temple further in,” Varis said. “And what happens once we get there?” “A reckoning.” “Terrific. Really glad I came with. Is like party.” ----- The four hurried down the path, hiding when one of the giant guardians passed close, and before very long they could see a black stone temple complex down in the center of the valley. In roughly concentric circles, the bone trees bent down towards the floor of the valley with the temple waiting for them. The ground around them was moist with blood and viscera, the air smelled of copper and cinnamon. “There,” Varis said while pointing. “Sorry, but did thing just pop up?” Lucretia asked. “It did.” “What did you do here?” Varis asked. “I needed an army.” “So you said before.” “Armies need time to grow.” Varis looked around at the trees surrounding them, the pulsing leaves of blood and flesh at the end of the calcified branches. As the wind rustled the trees, they gave a crackling groaning noise. “So I made them a place where they could grow strong, away from prying machine cult eyes, or Daevite assassins.” “And then you left it to grow,” Clef said. “For centuries.” “I was diverted. “Why did you begin your long sleep?” Varis asked. “It was–” “Get down!” Lucretia whispered fiercely. One of the flesh giants was getting closer scanning the trees and ground, back and forth. Lucretia, Varis, and Clef backed away behind a thick copse of bone trees. Orok did not. “Hey!” Lucretia hissed. “No more hiding.” Orok crossed his arms in front of his chest as the skinless fist slammed down and sent even him sprawling. “Хуй!” Lucretia howled as she ran out towards the colossus from behind. Each step she took she grew, filling her form with muscle and stature, covering her skin with bone plates, little protrusions of spurs extruding from her knuckles and spine, ripping through her tank top. She swung her hands in a double fisted hammer, striking just below the knee. An impact like a cannon shot echoed down the valley. The colossus’ lower leg folded in half, the creature struggling to keep its footing. The colossus roared in pain; its wide mouth full of teeth bared. Orok roared back at its face. The Klavigar vaulted towards the thing’s neck, his fingers ripping into the exposed muscle for handholds, and swung around to its large back. The colossus swung its arms frantically for the Klavigar, but he ignored it, bracing his feet against the spine and pulling backwards on the neck just below its jaw. “For Adytum!” The spine cracked like a tree trunk being split under its own weight. The colossus made a faint whimpering sound as it collapsed in a twitching mess. Orok leapt free from the falling guardian, landing on his feet a few meters away from its quivering body. Orok turned as a loud boom echoed through the trees. Clef was standing over the giant’s head with a smoking shotgun, the ruptured cranium spilling wet brains over the orchard’s ground. The maggots rushed across the crimson stained earth to climb into the newly formed cavity in the skull. “Just in case.” Lucretia scanned the trees around them. “Come on, come on. Let’s keep moving, yes?” Orok nodded and started running towards the temple. The others fell in line behind him. They weaved between the bone trees, crushing the worms into the wet earth. The sky took on a yellow tinge and the howls of their gargantuan pursuers echoed through the trees. After a few hundred yards, Clef started to huff. “This isn’t as easy for us normal humans!” Without missing a beat, Lucretia swooped down, threw Clef over her shoulder in a fireman carry, and continued running. Another hundred meters and the temple was growing larger in front of them. The space was playing tricks on her perceptions as it seemed they hadn’t made much progress into the valley, more like the temple was moving closer to meet them halfway. The air lost the smell of cinnamon and just smelled of stone dust and moist copper, hot and tangy on the tongue. And then, they were in front of it. Hundreds of meters just melted away and suddenly, the four of them were in a courtyard in front of the black temple. She blinked and looked around. “Uh, guys… things just go wibbly wobbly.” “It is the nature of this place to obfuscate reality, but this seems more like a welcome than a deceit.” “If it is a welcome, I would bet real money there’s a bear trap under the mat,” Clef said as Lucretia put him down. The stone temple rose nearly twenty-five meters in the air, forming a ziggurat with a U-shaped protrusion at its peak. The material at first glance resembled obsidian but was warm to the touch and vibrating. “Like shell of bug. I hate it.” “Whatever it is, we need to get inside and away from them,” Varis said as he looked back the way they had come. A dozen of the gargantuan skinless entities stood in a semi-circle around the courtyard. “At least they are keeping the distance from us. I don’t think I could fight this many at once.” “Speak for yourself child.” “Yes, big Orok is man. We are all very impressed,” Lucretia responded as she started climbing the stairs. Orok sighed and looked towards Varis who shrugged. “You may not have personally offended her, but she has plenty of reasons to be cross with you.” Varis headed up the stairs after her. “She has many!” Lucretia called back down the zigurrat. “I like her,” Clef said. Orok looked around the crowd of fleshless constructs as if considering getting in a fight with them rather than climbing the stairs. But eventually, he followed. ----- [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] Twenty meters up the rough stairs on the outside of the ziggurat felt a lot longer than it should have to Varis. Twenty minutes passed and they still were not at the top. To make matters worse, each step vibrated beneath their feet, clearly alive. He looked up the staircase to the U-shaped protrusion which was easier to perceive at this angle and distance. It looked like as if through accretion, the ziggurat had grown itself a crown. The air was hazy yellow and there was a tone in the air like the distant ringing of a bell that paused mid-note and just stretched out to infinity. It was giving Varis a headache. He turned and looked over his shoulder to the courtyard now seemingly much more than twenty meters below them. The giants stood there still, faintly visible through the haze and howling into the air. Clef came up beside him as they slowly trudged up the seemingly endless stair. “What is the plan here, chief?” Clef asked. “I truly don’t know. Orok is sure he can talk sense into them, but it seems unlikely given what communication we’ve already had. We need to be ready to make a quick exit if possible or fight our way out.” “I’m always ready for that. But I don’t like our odds given the documentation in the file. Those researchers who made it this far saw a damn army of entities within the temple.” Varis nodded silently and looked again up at the protrusion at the peak. “What is that, anyway?” “Reminds me of an antenna. But what would this place need to receive or send messages from or to? Besides which, it is clearly organic like the rest of this building.” Finally, they reached the top and saw there was a door into the interior beneath the protrusion. Clef examined the giant U-shape as Orok steadily marched towards the door. Varis looked over at Clef, indicating they should follow. “I’ll catch up.” Varis followed Orok with Lucretia down a short flight of stairs to an organic portcullis that was steadily opening as they approached. Orok seemed uninterested in the structure, powering through and down into the temple. “Was this place like this when you were first here? Did you build this?” Varis asked. “No. They have been productive.” “Please tell me you have more of a plan than that this entity surrender to your will.” “It attacked me, its creator. This is not a moment for surrender.” “Finally, you are saying things I like,” Lucretia said. “Listen to me, Orok. We cannot just march in and start a fight. These constructs have been building and biding their time for millennia. We are wildly outnumbered.” “I am aware. And I have a plan.” Orok continued his brisk pace, quickly pulling away from Varis. “And what would that plan be?” When the Klavigar did not respond, Lucretia laughed. “Inspiring leadership. I feel like Russia was a good place for you to be. Is like good old bad days.” Varis sighed and then rushed to follow the Klavigar. In short order they were in a grand open auditorium space, surrounded by four sets of amphitheater style seating and centered on a grand daïs carved from bone and hosting several stone altars large enough to let a grown human lay down lengthwise. The amphitheater seats were full of dozens upon dozens of humanoid entities nearly two meters in height, their heads twisted to the side giving the appearance of vertical mouths filled with teeth. Many had grown chitinous armor plates covering their limbs and torsos. Varis saw quite a few had horns growing out of the crowns of their heads, resembling the U-shaped protrusion at the top of the ziggurat. Most of the crowd were armed with various bladed weapons apparently grown from their forearms. The entire crowd droned in old Adytite, with an accent Varis could not quite place. They sang of the Ozi̮rmok vanquishing the Archons and ascending through the layers of reality to face against the Devourer. And they sang of his return nearly a century previous. “That’s the second reference to Ion returning that’s been made,” Varis said. “What do they mean? If Ion had come back here but met with none of us… unless he came to Nadox or Saarn, without coming to Lovataar or I.” “If he had returned, he would have come to you. That is beyond debate. But this is not the first time I’ve been told Ion returned by a delusional entity.” “What?” “Karcist Karvas. Or the man who named himself that, in Massachusetts. He said that Ion had given him the mission to convert the town and changed him.” “Why didn’t you tell me this?” “Because he was so insane, he once tore off his arms to get out of some restraints,” Clef said as he came from behind them. He looked around at the dozens of entities. “This is not good.” “Of course, is not good. What about this day has been good? Хуй,” Lucretia said as she scanned the singing crowd. “Where is this man?” “In a holding cell, in Massachusetts. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is we have someone going around claiming to be the reborn Ozi̮rmok and encouraging Nälkä communities into violence.” “You’re right. That is a problem. But it is not a problem for right now, I think.” Lucretia pointed at the altars. “Who is to get sacrificed?” The entire complex rumbled with the voice as if it were coming through the walls. [[span class="dblock"]]“//YOU ARE//.”[[/span]] “No, that is not what happens today.” “Anyone noticing is louder here?” “Whatever this construct is, it’s in the body of the temple,” Clef said. “The structure came alive through our holy work to provide the soldiers of Ion.” “You didn’t think to mention this before?” [[span class="dblock"]]“//FALSE FATHER. NOT-OROK. YOU WILL FEED THE HALKOST//.”[[/span]] “If I am about to die, tell me of this Ion that visited you.” [[span class="dblock"]]“//HE GAVE US PURPOSE AFTER SO MANY SEASONS OF FALLOW FIELDS. GROW, HE SAID. GROW AND BE STRONG. REACH OUT TO THE OTHERVERSE. TOUCH THE NEVERMEANT//.”[[/span]] Electrical current flowed from the many entities in the stands, sinking into the structure and visibly travelling up the inner surface of the ceiling to circle the peak. The humming sound of the U-shaped protrusion increased in volume, vibrating the entire structure. “What is happening?” Lucretia asked. The ceiling of chitinous material writhed in electrical jubilation, tearing itself open to the sky beyond. But instead of the protrusion on the roof of the temple, they could see a starry night sky. Stars the wrong color, a deep and yet bright shining crimson. “It is not being night yet!” “That’s not our sky.” “What is this? What are you doing, creature?” [[span class="dblock"]]“//TOUCH THE NEVERMEANT. EMBRACE THE PROGENITOR//.”[[/span]] Orok met Varis’ eyes, who shook his head. “It couldn’t mean…” [[span class="dblock"]]“//WE HAVE FELT THEIR AGENT HERE IN THE WAKING WORLD FOR MANY SEASONS. WE SHALL OPEN THE WAY//.”[[/span]] “Clef.” “What?” “Do it.” “What do you mean?” “Stop playing the fool. I know why you lingered. Do it now.” “Orok, what?” Varis asked as Clef brought out a small radio transceiver, roughly three inches long with a stubby antenna. “You’re sure?” Clef asked. Orok nodded, not taking his eyes off those bloody stars above them. Clef depressed a button on the side of the transceiver, immediately setting off a series of explosions muffled by the chitinous building’s structure. The ceiling collapsed in towards them, Orok shielding Clef’s body with his own just as Lucretia grabbed Varis and leapt backwards up the stairs. The structure’s voice shrieked, echoed by the dozens upon dozens of vertical mouths. The wet, organic rubble fell down onto the amphitheater seats, crushing many of the entities. Orok lifted Clef and ran for the entrance. [[span class="dblock"]]“//FATHER?//.”[[/span]] Orok spit over his shoulder, slamming into the organic portcullis that had shuddered free of its mooring. Another shrieking sound, followed by the sound of bones breaking, by the sound of a crushed insect under a boot, multiplied by orders of magnitude, causing even Orok’s ears to trickle blood. Lucretia and Varis were following closely after, both a bit battered from the explosion of living building. As they emerged into the hazy yellow air, the ceiling collapsed fully, the U-shaped protrusion falling within still humming. As they ran down the stairs on the outside of the temple, the gargantuan entities clutched their heads against the chittering death screech of the building and whatever waited through the gate. As one, they rose up from their knees and screamed at the four running down the stairs. Clef opened fire on the nearest, taking out huge divots from its chest with his shotgun shells. Lucretia leapt onto another, sinking bone talons nearly twelve centimeters long into the cranium, its mouth giving a wet gurgle as it fell. Varis reached out with both hands made fists, dragging them in a sharp downward motion. Two of the flesh golems fell to their knees, eyes and tongues bursting violently. Orok roared wordlessly, shouldering the leg out from under one of the remaining golems and then ripping it free. He continued to roar as he beat two more to death with the severed leg the size of a tree trunk. Clef made sure each that fell did not get back up with a point-blank blast of the shotgun to the backs of their heads. Lucretia breathed hard as she and Varis faced the last two. She smiled and grew another five inches, sheathing her arms in bony spines and leaping into the torso of one. Her arms sank into the meat nearly to the shoulder, and as she withdrew them, dozens of yards of sticky intestines spilled out onto the already red earth. Varis merely willed the last to lay down, and then closed its eyes with a soft apology. He turned to look at his compatriots, wanting to check if there were any injuries, when the building behind them stopped screeching and bellowed in rage. A crack began at the base of the ziggurat and sped up the side, splitting it in two. The structure opened like a flower, spilling organic rubble to the ground as it reared up, violently reforming into an approximation of a body. Dozens of arms with pincers thrust towards them, shaking with violence. The limbs lifted a roughly oblong body out of the red wet earth, as it lurched forward unsteadily. [[span class="dblock"]]“//WHY?!?!//.”[[/span]] “Because you have outlived your usefulness. The moment you crossed the first tenet of Ion, your existence became forfeit.” [[span class="dblock"]]“//I SERVE THE OZỊRMOK!//.”[[/span]] “No. The first tenet in our faith is: No Gods. You are apostate.” The building-spider-thing ran toward the Klavigar, but he had already dodged behind the nearest spinal tree. It shattered into pieces. One of those bone shards, nearly six meters in length, Orok raised over his head as he bellowed: “NO GODS.” The bone javelin flew from Orok’s hand like a cannon shot, piercing the center of the beast and blowing a hole nearly a meter wide straight through to the hazy yellow air behind it. They were all showered in viscera as the temple construct keeled over and collapsed down into the muck. Orok approached the shuddering giant, gently batting away the pincer limbs as they weakly reached for him. He plunged his arms into the wound and began to pull his hands apart. The living temple mewled as he forced the wound wider and wider, until finally even its eldritch structure could no longer hold together. The sound of the construct ripping in two was like a wet explosion, echoing across the valley. The mostly severed two halves of the gargantuan entity shuddered for another moment and then lay still. The Klavigar approached Clef and nodded, planting a wet hand on his shoulder and patting. He turned to Varis and Lucretia. Varis stared at the steaming wreck of the once living temple and swore in Old Adytite. “Let’s be getting out of here.” Lucretia headed off the way they had come, ignoring the shifting sky above her, the slowly fading haze, the shriveling bone trees. Orok laughed. He turned and looked down the length of the valley. He could literally see space folding in on itself, the non-Euclidean space losing its anomalous dimensions as the living landscape blackened in real time. Varis walked after Lucretia, with Clef at his side. Clef lit a cigarette. “Well?” “I’m tired, Alto.” “No shit. Me too. Not the point, though. What are we going to do about this?” “Clean the valley, burn anything left for fear of its taint getting into the environment. Make sure we keep observation on the area in case something managed to get through.” “No, I meant about this fake Ion. That’s twice now whoever he is has encouraged [[[scp-2480 \| something like this]]].” Varis nodded. “It’s a problem.” “We need to find the rest of them. If anyone can sniff out a fake Ion, it’s the four Klavigars.” “Yes. Saarn and Nadox must know something. They were always more connected to the world than I.” Orok followed them at a slow pace, his whole body covered in viscera and drying blood. Lucretia looked back at the other three trailing behind her. She pointed over their shoulders. “If you don’t want to be folded into neat little meat pies, it is time to be putting a fucking move on.” The sound of the valley’s anomalous space folding in on itself, to be slowly overwritten by the olive trees that should have always existed there, was like nothing Varis could describe. The smell of wet copper and cinnamon faded, replaced with hot rich, black earth and the sound of leaves shifting in the wind. As they reached the border of where real met the unreal, surrounded by drying corpses of maggots, Lucretia slapped the Klavigar’s bicep. As tall as she was, her head only came up to his chest, so she had to reach up and fully extend her arm. “I have never been seeing something like that in all my years,” Lucretia said. “I am impressed.” “Finally, some respect from you!” “Don’t expect much more. You’re still a dick.” [[/div]] [[=]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/an-assembly-of-sarkics \| An Assembly of Sarkics <<= Previous]]] \| //Orok and the Orchard// \| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/two-sarkics-take-a-vacation-in-polynesia-stop-me-if-youve-he \| Next => Two Sarkics Take a Vacation in Polynesia, Stop Me If You've Heard This One]]] [[/=]]	2023-11-28T19:10:00	[ "_cc", "action", "adventure", "agent-popescu", "doctor-clef", "no-return", "orok", "religious-fiction", "sarkic", "tale" ]	Orok and the Orchard - SCP Foundation	63	[ "grigori-karpin-s-author-page", "fragment:scp-6500-17", "no-return-hub", "scp-3989", "an-assembly-of-sarkics", "scp-4036", "resurrection-new-faces-hub", "sarkic-heat", "resurrection-his-will-be-done-hub", "shut-it-down", "a-sarkic-by-any-other-name", "scp-2480", "two-sarkics-take-a-vacation-in-polynesia-stop-me-if-youve-he" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "sarkicism-hub", "no-return-hub" ]	[]	1451594912	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/orok-and-the-orchard
out-of-options	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3A3law/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Anorrack</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p><strong>Out of Options</strong> (2092 words)<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anorrack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4188420); return false;"><img alt="Anorrack" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4188420&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188717" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4188420)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anorrack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4188420); return false;">Anorrack</a></span></p> <p><a href="http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page">Author Page</a></p> <p>Other articles you might enjoy:</p> <p><strong><a href="/dead-mans-switch">Dead Man's Switch</a></strong>- A necromancer walks into a morgue. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.</p> <p><strong><a href="/spellbound-and-hellbound">Spellbound and Hellbound</a>:</strong> A demon on the loose. A necromancer on the hunt. Love is in the air.</p> <p><strong><a href="/uiu-file-2024-092">The Saint Sebastian Slasher</a>:</strong> A serial killer stalks the Great Lakes, looking for his next victim, and only the Coast Guard and the UIU can stop him.</p> </div> </div> </div> <p><em>Polished shoe meets polished tile with a click, click, click, as Jackal walks down the empty hallway to the vault. His breath reverberates within his feral-grinning mask, his skin hot and damp with sweat and spit. The plants that lined the hallway were as rubber as his fake face.</em></p> <p><em>Jackal isn't carrying a rifle like Iceman or Crow, just a pistol and a thermite drill. He's built for speed, wiry. Athletic and lithe. The clicking comes to a stop as he hides behind a pillar next to a painting of a ice-bound galleon, listening to the whining of the cameras up ahead. He tries to ignore the shouting coming from the lobby. They were supposed to have the security system down already, goddamn it.</em></p> <p><em>He glances around the pillar, seeing two cameras on each wall, panning in unison. No way he can get through there undetected, goddamn it again.</em></p> <p>Just remember what they said. Step on the gray tiles. <em>He looks down to the dotted line of gray on the otherwise polished white floor.</em> Left, right, left right. <em>He tiptoes on the tile, threading through the near imperceptible blindspots. He relaxes as the dreaded alarm never sounds off.</em></p> <p><em>Just like that, he is at the vault. It shouldn't have this much cash, this is just a regional bank, for Grandma's checking account. The only reason there is this much money here is because of a rounding error, introduced by some helpful software. All it takes is moderate application of the thermite to crack open the vault.</em></p> <p><em>His radio crackles to life with the voice of the boss. "Jackal, report, how much do you see?"</em></p> <p><em>Jackal grins. "Everything you said, boss. Ten million plus, all accounted for."</em></p> <p><em>The synthesized voice chuckles. "Didn't I promise you? All you have to do is bag it, and your job—"</em></p> <p>"Let me stop you there."</p> <p>The line reading stuttered to a halt as everyone at the table looked at Perlman, soon to be called Jackal. He was the new kid, going on his first of this kind of operation. He was confused, aggressive.</p> <p>Iceman cocked his head and grinned, ivory whites deep-set in a dark face. "Got a problem with the plan so far, Perlman?"</p> <p>Perlman scoffed, looking around the table with disbelief. He leaned forward and stabbed the papers with his index. "This? A plan? Listen, I've been around the block a few times. I've run with some eccentric types before. But this-" he stabbed the papers again. "Is not a plan. This is crime fan-fiction. I feel like we're doing a line reading of <em>Heat</em>, here." He looked around wildly, met with a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Am I wrong?"</p> <p>Grease leaned forward. A small man, but seemed to take up the space of someone twice his size. "This is just how we do things around here. It's safe. Guaranteed. All you have to do is memorize your lines, go through the motions, and you're golden."</p> <p>Jackal stuttered, his face going bright red. "Why are there so many mistakes? The cameras, the screaming woman on page four — what's even the point in planning for that? Are you just going for dramatic effect?"</p> <p>Crow pushed his glasses up his beak-like nose and threaded his long fingers together. "It's how it works. You plan for things to go wrong, so when they do, you expect them, part of the plan. If the script was perfect, the deviations would be — how you say — more severe. Chaotic. This keeps the narrative in our favor."</p> <p>Jackal's gaze flicked to each of them in turn, unconvinced. He had the skills for this sort of thing, if he wasn't stupid about it. He already had a decent rapsheet, and he wanted to make something out of it. And they wanted to make something out of him, if they could. "I don't know if I can take this seriously, guys."</p> <p>Iceman and Crow looked at each other, Grease and Iceman did the same. A silent agreement was reached. Crow reached forward and slowly, subtly, turned the head chair around.</p> <p><tt>"You will, Perlman."</tt> The rough, synthesized voice crackled out of the chair like lightning. Jackal's eyes widened and he leaned away, taken aback.</p> <p>"What the fuck?"</p> <p>King loved the dramatic entrance. Part of his writer's soul, I suppose, what was left of it, anyhow. Sitting in the chair was a dissected Saker android, one of the early models, still made of metal and silicon. It was dressed nicely, with a suit jacket and leather gloves, kept with the fingers laced and arched, elbows dug into the arms of the chair. Thick wires and cabling extruded from his torso and ran into a back room, where his real body was. The android was just so he could meet with guests, keep up appearances.</p> <p><tt>"You can call me King. And this is my crew."</tt> The metal-rimmed eyes whirred as they focused on Jackal. <tt>"I wrote that 'crime fan-fiction' you have in front of you, and would enjoy some positive criticism."</tt></p> <p>Jackal's eyes widen and his cheeks puffed out, I thought he was going to run, if I'm honest. But he didn't, he kept his cool, even if he ground his teeth into dust. "Well, sir, I'm a little confused about the format of the plan, and I'm not really seeing any specifics. No blueprints, security system layout—"</p> <p><tt>"Let me stop you right there, Perlman. Blueprints are for people that lack our methods, that don't have our… precision. This isn't a plan at all. This is a script. A plot with twists and turns, a three-act structure, a story with heroes and villains. And at the end of this story, is money. Money for me, my crew, and for you. All you have to do is memorize your lines, and above all else, stick to the script."</tt> He gazed over his arched fingers. <tt>"Do you think you can do that?"</tt></p> <p>Jackal swallowed. He licked his lips and nodded.</p> <p>King couldn't find a smile, but his modulator pitched his voice up in its stead. <tt>"Wonderful. Iceman, skip to page seventeen, from the top."</tt></p> <p>"Gotcha. <em>The lobby is filling with choking smoke, the animal masks quickly swapped for respirators, as Grease fires into the maintenance tunnels with reckless abandon —</em></p> <hr/> <p>— the pinging of bullets forcing the cops back, buying the crew time to escape.</p> <p>"Let's go, let's go!" Iceman roared as he held the car door open.</p> <p>Crow and Grease piled into the car, loose bills leaking from half-closed zippers. The car was beat to hell, with the left windows all blown in and the hood crumbled into origami.</p> <p>It's silent for a single moment as the distant alarms shut off, and the lights to the parking garage powered down. Then SWAT arrived, and the real gunfire started.</p> <p>Grease was frantic in the back-seats. "C'mon, c'mon, let's blow this joint."</p> <p>Crow was driving. "We can't, not until Jackal gets here." He was calm, reciting his lines word-for-word. Perfectly executed.</p> <p>A bullet whines through the car, breaking off the rearview mirror and showering the three with glass. Crow's hand drifted towards the gear-shift.</p> <p>Out of the tear gas, Jackal slammed against the car door, scrabbling for the handle as bullets pinged around him. "Open the goddamn door, assholes."</p> <p>"He's off-script," Grease mumbled.</p> <p>"It's close enough," Iceman shot back.</p> <p>Grease thumbed the handle and cracked open the door for Jackal, who wrenched it wide. The hostage in his arms whimpered in fear as the barrel of his pistol dug into her neck while he wrestled the two of them in.</p> <p>"What are you doing, Jackal? Dump the hostage, we don't need her anymore."</p> <p>Grease could see Jackal snarl underneath his gas mask, his eyes narrowing and skin crinkling as he chafed against the script. A few more bullets panged off of the car's running board; Jackal opened the door again, and forced the hostage out. But as he did so, a grasping hand snagged his gas mask, and pulled it off. The hostage stumbled to the ground. Her tear-filled doe-eyes looked up. Met Jackal's glare. She saw his face.</p> <p>Jackal ground his teeth. Bit his tongue. His heart roared in his ears as Crow slammed on the accelerator. But before the tires found traction, Jackal raised his pistol to bear, and centered the hostage in the crosshairs.</p> <p><em>BANG</em></p> <p>"Jackal, what the fuck was that?!"</p> <p>"What did he do?"</p> <p>"He went off-script the fucking bastard!"</p> <p>"He what —"</p> <p>"He shot the FUCKING HOSTAGE."</p> <p>"Jackal you fuck-head — "</p> <p>"She saw my FUCKING face!"</p> <p><tt>"Everyone calm down, you just —"</tt></p> <p>The car screeched out of the parking garage, tires begging for purchase on the rain-slick asphalt as the car took a hard right onto the side road.</p> <p>"She was supposed to, moron! she was a fucking plot device for the next heist —"</p> <p>"You selfish asshole!"</p> <p>"Hey I followed the script —"</p> <p>"Do you know what you did?! You flat-lined the narrative! Now who the fuck knows what will happen next?"</p> <hr/> <p>One of the black SWAT vans was not, in fact, SWAT. The van was filled with electronics, warbling and oscillating in tones not entirely familiar to most behind the Veil. The woman sitting at the computers looked at her partner, and nodded.</p> <p>"Their plot armor is gone, take the shot."</p> <p>Her partner grinned and hefted his weapon, the digital sights notifying him of the wind-speed, distance, and target's relative velocity to them on the roof of the parking garage. He squeezed the trigger.</p> <p>The intensity of the neutron cannon meant that King's crew probably didn't feel a thing as their organs liquefied, their very molecules dissociating within the base particle stream. The car rolled gently to a stop, empty but for wrinkled clothing and bags of cash.</p> <hr/> <p><em>Unbeknownst to the attackers, hidden underneath the car—</em></p> <p><em>While the attackers were distracted with celebrating their hit on King's gang, a plot had been set in motion—</em></p> <p><tt>No No No.</tt></p> <p>Nothing worked, it didn't fit together properly. King gnashed mechanical teeth as if he was trying to eat his writer's block. Hell in a hand-basket, that's where he was. Worst possible scenario, all possible narrative threads severed, he had no B plot to swivel to for this one.</p> <p>The entire crew, wiped out from one colossal error, the narrative backlash shaking their atoms to dust.</p> <p><tt>Shouldn't have hired the damn kid.</tt></p> <p>He was flying blind now, with no story beats to follow and no protagonists to hinge the narrative on, but his writer's sense told him that they were coming for him next. Whoever "they" were. Multiple parties, he felt. Conflicts of interest, could use that.</p> <p><tt>Question is of picking the proper poison.</tt></p> <p>Time for a pivot. Drastic means, drastic measures. If he didn't have a main character, he would provide one. The Saker android shuddered, metal claws digging through leather gloves into the arms of the chair. The android probed the umbilical cords connecting it to King, delicately detaching them, one by one. King checked the camera feeds, noting the players on the field, opening another text file.</p> <p><em>The UIU team storms up the staircase, tactical boots grinding dirt into the woodgrain.</em></p> <p><tt>Not going back to Paramax.</tt></p> <p><em>The Sidebinders climb up the fire-escape, phasers tucked into jeans of paper and ink.</em></p> <p><tt>Not giving those bastards the pleasure.</tt></p> <p><em>And finally, late to the party, a black van skids to a stop in the alley, the MTF inside prepped and ready.</em></p> <p><tt>Bingo.</tt></p> <p>The Saker android absorbed the prose as fast as it flew across its HUD as the robot staggered into his room, picking him up and carrying his case towards the window. One reader was as good as any.</p> <p><em>A shadow blocks the light streaming through the curtain. The silhouette of a gun, displaced through fiction and time.</em></p> <p>The Saker set its mechanical jaw and opened the window.</p> <p><em>The phaser, cocked and ready swings through the air to point at the Saker's metal skull.</em></p> <p>The rival gang member grinned and pulled the trigger—</p> <p><em>— but not before the Saker droid chucks the case through the window, whistling past the gangster —</em></p> <p>— and clattered to the asphalt below, right in front of the Foundation van. Not the worse for wear.</p> <p><em>The Saker lets out a low-pitched hum as plasma meets circuit board, chrome dome turning convex as its soldering sublimates into shrapnel. It played its small role wonderfully, and can finally rest.</em></p> <p>King crossed virtual fingers and hoped he picked the lesser of three evils as the Foundation agent stepped out of the vehicle.</p> <p>He hated being out of options.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/out-of-options">Out of Options</a>" by Anorrack, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/out-of-options">https://scpwiki.com/out-of-options</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:3law">:scp-wiki:theme:3law</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:3law-pride">:scp-wiki:theme:3law-pride</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Anorrack]] Out of Options (2092 words) Author: [[user Anorrack]] [[[http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page\|Author Page]]] Other articles you might enjoy: [[[dead-mans-switch\|Dead Man's Switch]]]- A necromancer walks into a morgue. Sounds like the start of a bad joke. [[[spellbound-and-hellbound \| Spellbound and Hellbound]]]:* A demon on the loose. A necromancer on the hunt. Love is in the air. [[[uiu-file-2024-092\| The Saint Sebastian Slasher]]]: A serial killer stalks the Great Lakes, looking for his next victim, and only the Coast Guard and the UIU can stop him. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] //Polished shoe meets polished tile with a click, click, click, as Jackal walks down the empty hallway to the vault. His breath reverberates within his feral-grinning mask, his skin hot and damp with sweat and spit. The plants that lined the hallway were as rubber as his fake face.// //Jackal isn't carrying a rifle like Iceman or Crow, just a pistol and a thermite drill. He's built for speed, wiry. Athletic and lithe. The clicking comes to a stop as he hides behind a pillar next to a painting of a ice-bound galleon, listening to the whining of the cameras up ahead. He tries to ignore the shouting coming from the lobby. They were supposed to have the security system down already, goddamn it.// //He glances around the pillar, seeing two cameras on each wall, panning in unison. No way he can get through there undetected, goddamn it again.// Just remember what they said. Step on the gray tiles. //He looks down to the dotted line of gray on the otherwise polished white floor.// Left, right, left right. //He tiptoes on the tile, threading through the near imperceptible blindspots. He relaxes as the dreaded alarm never sounds off.// //Just like that, he is at the vault. It shouldn't have this much cash, this is just a regional bank, for Grandma's checking account. The only reason there is this much money here is because of a rounding error, introduced by some helpful software. All it takes is moderate application of the thermite to crack open the vault.// //His radio crackles to life with the voice of the boss. "Jackal, report, how much do you see?"// //Jackal grins. "Everything you said, boss. Ten million plus, all accounted for."// //The synthesized voice chuckles. "Didn't I promise you? All you have to do is bag it, and your job—"// "Let me stop you there." The line reading stuttered to a halt as everyone at the table looked at Perlman, soon to be called Jackal. He was the new kid, going on his first of this kind of operation. He was confused, aggressive. Iceman cocked his head and grinned, ivory whites deep-set in a dark face. "Got a problem with the plan so far, Perlman?" Perlman scoffed, looking around the table with disbelief. He leaned forward and stabbed the papers with his index. "This? A plan? Listen, I've been around the block a few times. I've run with some eccentric types before. But this-" he stabbed the papers again. "Is not a plan. This is crime fan-fiction. I feel like we're doing a line reading of //Heat//, here." He looked around wildly, met with a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Am I wrong?" Grease leaned forward. A small man, but seemed to take up the space of someone twice his size. "This is just how we do things around here. It's safe. Guaranteed. All you have to do is memorize your lines, go through the motions, and you're golden." Jackal stuttered, his face going bright red. "Why are there so many mistakes? The cameras, the screaming woman on page four — what's even the point in planning for that? Are you just going for dramatic effect?" Crow pushed his glasses up his beak-like nose and threaded his long fingers together. "It's how it works. You plan for things to go wrong, so when they do, you expect them, part of the plan. If the script was perfect, the deviations would be — how you say — more severe. Chaotic. This keeps the narrative in our favor." Jackal's gaze flicked to each of them in turn, unconvinced. He had the skills for this sort of thing, if he wasn't stupid about it. He already had a decent rapsheet, and he wanted to make something out of it. And they wanted to make something out of him, if they could. "I don't know if I can take this seriously, guys." Iceman and Crow looked at each other, Grease and Iceman did the same. A silent agreement was reached. Crow reached forward and slowly, subtly, turned the head chair around. {{"You will, Perlman."}} The rough, synthesized voice crackled out of the chair like lightning. Jackal's eyes widened and he leaned away, taken aback. "What the fuck?" King loved the dramatic entrance. Part of his writer's soul, I suppose, what was left of it, anyhow. Sitting in the chair was a dissected Saker android, one of the early models, still made of metal and silicon. It was dressed nicely, with a suit jacket and leather gloves, kept with the fingers laced and arched, elbows dug into the arms of the chair. Thick wires and cabling extruded from his torso and ran into a back room, where his real body was. The android was just so he could meet with guests, keep up appearances. {{"You can call me King. And this is my crew."}} The metal-rimmed eyes whirred as they focused on Jackal. {{"I wrote that 'crime fan-fiction' you have in front of you, and would enjoy some positive criticism."}} Jackal's eyes widen and his cheeks puffed out, I thought he was going to run, if I'm honest. But he didn't, he kept his cool, even if he ground his teeth into dust. "Well, sir, I'm a little confused about the format of the plan, and I'm not really seeing any specifics. No blueprints, security system layout—" {{"Let me stop you right there, Perlman. Blueprints are for people that lack our methods, that don't have our... precision. This isn't a plan at all. This is a script. A plot with twists and turns, a three-act structure, a story with heroes and villains. And at the end of this story, is money. Money for me, my crew, and for you. All you have to do is memorize your lines, and above all else, stick to the script."}} He gazed over his arched fingers. {{"Do you think you can do that?"}} Jackal swallowed. He licked his lips and nodded. King couldn't find a smile, but his modulator pitched his voice up in its stead. {{"Wonderful. Iceman, skip to page seventeen, from the top."}} "Gotcha. //The lobby is filling with choking smoke, the animal masks quickly swapped for respirators, as Grease fires into the maintenance tunnels with reckless abandon —// ----- — the pinging of bullets forcing the cops back, buying the crew time to escape. "Let's go, let's go!" Iceman roared as he held the car door open. Crow and Grease piled into the car, loose bills leaking from half-closed zippers. The car was beat to hell, with the left windows all blown in and the hood crumbled into origami. It's silent for a single moment as the distant alarms shut off, and the lights to the parking garage powered down. Then SWAT arrived, and the real gunfire started. Grease was frantic in the back-seats. "C'mon, c'mon, let's blow this joint." Crow was driving. "We can't, not until Jackal gets here." He was calm, reciting his lines word-for-word. Perfectly executed. A bullet whines through the car, breaking off the rearview mirror and showering the three with glass. Crow's hand drifted towards the gear-shift. Out of the tear gas, Jackal slammed against the car door, scrabbling for the handle as bullets pinged around him. "Open the goddamn door, assholes." "He's off-script," Grease mumbled. "It's close enough," Iceman shot back. Grease thumbed the handle and cracked open the door for Jackal, who wrenched it wide. The hostage in his arms whimpered in fear as the barrel of his pistol dug into her neck while he wrestled the two of them in. "What are you doing, Jackal? Dump the hostage, we don't need her anymore." Grease could see Jackal snarl underneath his gas mask, his eyes narrowing and skin crinkling as he chafed against the script. A few more bullets panged off of the car's running board; Jackal opened the door again, and forced the hostage out. But as he did so, a grasping hand snagged his gas mask, and pulled it off. The hostage stumbled to the ground. Her tear-filled doe-eyes looked up. Met Jackal's glare. She saw his face. Jackal ground his teeth. Bit his tongue. His heart roared in his ears as Crow slammed on the accelerator. But before the tires found traction, Jackal raised his pistol to bear, and centered the hostage in the crosshairs. //BANG// "Jackal, what the fuck was that?!" "What did he do?" "He went off-script the fucking bastard!" "He what —" "He shot the FUCKING HOSTAGE." "Jackal you fuck-head — " "She saw my FUCKING face!" {{"Everyone calm down, you just —"}} The car screeched out of the parking garage, tires begging for purchase on the rain-slick asphalt as the car took a hard right onto the side road. "She was supposed to, moron! she was a fucking plot device for the next heist —" "You selfish asshole!" "Hey I followed the script —" "Do you know what you did?! You flat-lined the narrative! Now who the fuck knows what will happen next?" ------ One of the black SWAT vans was not, in fact, SWAT. The van was filled with electronics, warbling and oscillating in tones not entirely familiar to most behind the Veil. The woman sitting at the computers looked at her partner, and nodded. "Their plot armor is gone, take the shot." Her partner grinned and hefted his weapon, the digital sights notifying him of the wind-speed, distance, and target's relative velocity to them on the roof of the parking garage. He squeezed the trigger. The intensity of the neutron cannon meant that King's crew probably didn't feel a thing as their organs liquefied, their very molecules dissociating within the base particle stream. The car rolled gently to a stop, empty but for wrinkled clothing and bags of cash. ------- //Unbeknownst to the attackers, hidden underneath the car—// //While the attackers were distracted with celebrating their hit on King's gang, a plot had been set in motion—// {{No No No. }} Nothing worked, it didn't fit together properly. King gnashed mechanical teeth as if he was trying to eat his writer's block. Hell in a hand-basket, that's where he was. Worst possible scenario, all possible narrative threads severed, he had no B plot to swivel to for this one. The entire crew, wiped out from one colossal error, the narrative backlash shaking their atoms to dust. {{Shouldn't have hired the damn kid.}} He was flying blind now, with no story beats to follow and no protagonists to hinge the narrative on, but his writer's sense told him that they were coming for him next. Whoever "they" were. Multiple parties, he felt. Conflicts of interest, could use that. {{Question is of picking the proper poison.}} Time for a pivot. Drastic means, drastic measures. If he didn't have a main character, he would provide one. The Saker android shuddered, metal claws digging through leather gloves into the arms of the chair. The android probed the umbilical cords connecting it to King, delicately detaching them, one by one. King checked the camera feeds, noting the players on the field, opening another text file. //The UIU team storms up the staircase, tactical boots grinding dirt into the woodgrain.// {{Not going back to Paramax.}} //The Sidebinders climb up the fire-escape, phasers tucked into jeans of paper and ink.// {{Not giving those bastards the pleasure.}} //And finally, late to the party, a black van skids to a stop in the alley, the MTF inside prepped and ready.// {{Bingo.}} The Saker android absorbed the prose as fast as it flew across its HUD as the robot staggered into his room, picking him up and carrying his case towards the window. One reader was as good as any. //A shadow blocks the light streaming through the curtain. The silhouette of a gun, displaced through fiction and time.// The Saker set its mechanical jaw and opened the window. //The phaser, cocked and ready swings through the air to point at the Saker's metal skull.// The rival gang member grinned and pulled the trigger— //— but not before the Saker droid chucks the case through the window, whistling past the gangster —// — and clattered to the asphalt below, right in front of the Foundation van. Not the worse for wear. //The Saker lets out a low-pitched hum as plasma meets circuit board, chrome dome turning convex as its soldering sublimates into shrapnel. It played its small role wonderfully, and can finally rest.// King crossed virtual fingers and hoped he picked the lesser of three evils as the Foundation agent stepped out of the vehicle. He hated being out of options. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Anorrack]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-15T21:26:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "crime-fiction", "science-fiction", "tale", "third-law", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	Out of Options - SCP Foundation	18	[ "dead-mans-switch", "spellbound-and-hellbound", "uiu-file-2024-092", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unusual-incidents-unit-hub", "third-law-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449050309	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/out-of-options
paper-bag	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foxtrot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sigma-9</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2022</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Liryn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">FONTS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Lexend</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@700</span><span class="hl-code">;800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">JetBrains</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Mono</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Fira</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Code</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@400</span><span class="hl-code">;700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sofia</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">rsms.me</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter.css</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Figtree</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@800</span><span class="hl-code">;900&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">IBM</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Plex</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Core</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">darkmode-logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">head-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Sans Normalcy'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">ui-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'IBM Plex Sans'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">mono-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira </span><span class="hl-string">Code</span><span class="hl-code">', </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Inter', 'verdana'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">base-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Misc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">subheader-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">misc-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#464646</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E6283C</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-hover-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Accents</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accent:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-default:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-wyoming:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">142</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-canada:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-poland:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">87</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">44</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">17</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-slothspit:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-vanguard:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">153</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-code">; 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--</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-nightfall:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">151</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-hybrasil:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-goc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">39</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">84</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">149</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spooky:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">112</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">BetterFootnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">html</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">scroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> smooth</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient(to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-rendering:</span><span class="hl-code"> optimizeLegibility</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">440</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">strong</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--mono-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ol</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-underline-offset:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">900</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">26</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-img) </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-opacity)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Search</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">47</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.83</span><span class="hl-code">) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">230</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-indent:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.mobile-top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Login</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">19</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#my-account</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#interwiki</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#cfcfcf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">pt</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blockquotes</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Custom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">dashed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fbfbfb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.quote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.note</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#afafaf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.round</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Titles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Author</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Label</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.authorlink-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-top-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-bottom-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-right-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f4f4f4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bfbfbf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Captions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E0FFD4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDFCD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFCFCF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colored</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">224</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">212</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">226</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">245</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">189</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">223</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">205</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">218</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQ</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">things</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Assets</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">underline</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.item1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.class1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">woedbar-class-bar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.55</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MISC</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bt</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#444</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#7b7b7b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footer-wikiwalk-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">88</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-options-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-watch-options</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">77</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#5f5f5f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ecf2f1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#d9d9d9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "."</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "tags "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.3125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.625</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.0625</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent)) </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> ""</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.2813</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-tags-input</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">table.form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.edit-page-bottomtable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-comments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "!"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">115</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "⏲ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">outline:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-property:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> darkslategrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5)></span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">120</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 900</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content-warning.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">21</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.preview-message</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">29</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> drop-shadow(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.error-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">48</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B00</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2</span><span class="hl-identifier">n</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fade</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">default</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">155</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F7F7F7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> loading </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">s linear infinite</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">loading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">360</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.osuccess</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.content</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2)></span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.odialog-shader</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#262a39</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn.btn-primary</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.button</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#eaeaea</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#dbffd6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#005a0a</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#0d951c</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffe1e1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c52727</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c5272e</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#757575</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.checkbox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#h-perpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">REDUCED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOTION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACCESSIBILITY</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (prefers-reduced-motion: </span><span class="hl-identifier">reduce</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-iteration-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@MEDIA</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 850</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 620</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">123</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 520</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { line-height: </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>December 22, 2019</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>15:22</strong></span></p> </div> <p>"Wait-wait-wait, they're DATING?!"</p> <p>"Well it's only been like a month, I think but uh, yeah? What, you jealous or something?"</p> <p>"No, no, I'm just surprised she didn't tell me. Huh. Weird."</p> <p><a href="/scp-7309">Avigail Sigal</a>, Junior Researcher of the SCP Foundation and grown-ass woman, was reflecting on her life decisions in Site-48's cafeteria. Benny's words had slammed into her like a sledgehammer, and she had just barely managed to hide the bruises. It was stupid, ridiculous, like she was in high school again, hopelessly falling for girls far above her league. But she couldn't stop thinking about it.</p> <p>'It', of course, referring to her good friend and the yearlong subject of her crush, Technician Dana Eyal, who was currently playing an intense game of Coup a few tables away from her. Also at that table was, of course, Inbar, Dana's apparently existent girlfriend. Avigail sucked in a few more sips of her comfort orange juice, twisting a bundle of her black curls around her finger. This was going to be a long day.</p> <p>“That is strange, I thought you knew. Aren’t you pretty close?” Benny unintentionally brought the hammer down again. Her mental walls buckled.</p> <p>“Yeah, at least I think so.” Avigail’s head continued to spin from the revelation. “She probably just forgot, she does that a lot.” She finished her glass. “Not dating, I mean - forgetting who she already told and who she didn’t- never mind. Point is, I highly doubt she was intentionally hiding this from me, that makes no sense whatsoever. We’re not living in a bad teenage drama, thank God.”</p> <p>She stood up. “I need to get back to work. Catch you later…?”</p> <p>“At the Karaoke Committee, of course. Six PM sharp!” He half-whispered genially.</p> <p>Avigail rolled her eyes. “Sure, it’s bound to be at least somewhat funny. I’ll come.”</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>17:30</strong></span></p> </div> <p>“I know what you’re planning, Vered.” <a href="/scp-7731">Director Hiba Nasser</a> struggled not to grin mischievously at the researcher before her desk. “Your request is denied.”</p> <p>“Why?!” Vered wailed. “We have the funding, please I’m-”</p> <p>“No is no.” Hiba handed the proposal back to Vered’s shaking hands. It was surprisingly difficult to tell how much of the researcher’s despair was an act and how much of it was genuine. Hiba settled on ‘heavily exaggerated truth’ as she leaned back in her chair and corrected her glasses. “And that’s final. Anything else?”</p> <p>Vered sighed, accepting defeat. “Yes. As per usual, I need your signature to bring AO-77884 out of storage for Hanukkah," She gave the Director a thin booklet, already signed by Benny, the small Site's Containment Specialist. "And a meager sum of five hundred NIS for the procurement of appropriate <em>Sufganyot</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup>."</p> <p>Hiba flipped through the pages, signing where appropriate. <em>I really need an assistant, and I need them soon.</em> The position of Assistant Director had been vacant ever since she'd left the post and became Director herself, a few months ago. That left a lot of the banal administrative work to her.</p> <p>It did have its benefits occasionally. "I'll give you a thousand - but get all the fancy ones with the dark chocolate and extra candy. Keep the jelly <em>Sufganyot</em> percentage below 10%. That’s an order."</p> <p>“Aye, Ma’am.” Vered gave Hiba an exaggerated salute and left her alone in her office. The Director glanced at the clock. <em>17:52</em>. Smiling, she opened the live security feed from the breakroom on her terminal, and went to grab a cup of coffee.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>17:40</strong></span></p> </div> <p>Avigail watched the lab rats as they scurried through the small tunnel network of clear plastic, her work laptop open on a blank template in front of her. She was supposed to be noting down the emergence of nationalistic traits in the murine community, a result of eating an anomalous strain of cherry tomatoes pending SCP classification. Instead, she was thinking about Dana, her heart pounding.</p> <p>She had met her on her first week at the Foundation when her laptop refused to connect to the intranet. Unsurprisingly, the problem was solved in less than twenty seconds. Still, it was enough to get her name and remember her face when she saw her again at lunch. They became fast friends. She the newbie who could barely get SCiPnet to work and Dana the engineer who knew what made every machine tick. It wasn’t long before Avigail realized she was in love.</p> <p>And now it was too late. She had missed her chance, and would likely never get another. Envy and regret roiled and bubbled with each thought. <em>Maybe it won’t work out, and you’ll be the One after all.</em> <em>They’ll break up, and you’ll</em>- No. She reeled that stray thought back in. She was better than that, she couldn’t let herself devolve into cartoon villainy. <em>Your own cowardice led you here. When were you planning to confess?</em> Every personal deadline she had set had passed by her like leaves in a stream.</p> <p>She tried to refocus on her work. Her notes came out erratic and half-baked, but it was better than nothing. At 17:55 she swapped shifts with the other Junior Researcher at the lab with a weak apology and left for the breakroom. She still wasn’t entirely sure what the Karaoke Committee actually was, but she figured it could at least serve as a welcome distraction from her mental prison.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>18:00</strong></span></p> </div> <p>Everything was small in Site-48, and the break room was no exception. It hosted little more than a handful of couches, two low tables, and a coffee machine. Currently, however, it also hosted the fourteen members of the Karaoke Committee alongside a number of curious observers, making it rather loud and cramped. Mercifully, neither Dana nor her newfound partner were present. Avigail had just made it over to where Benny was leaning on a wall when the chairwoman entered the room.</p> <p>“I bring forth dire news.” Vered began, silencing the small crowd. She wore a dress shirt with a tie, standing out amongst the t-shirts and labcoats. “It appears we have a mole within our ranks.” A few people gasped dramatically, someone chuckled. The silence immediately broke again as conspiracies and accusations began to fly.</p> <p>“What?! How?”</p> <p>“That’s impossible!”</p> <p>“It’s got to be Zeina, right? They’ve been friends for years!”</p> <p>“I told you we should have been more selective-”</p> <p>“It’s Vered! She’s trying to throw us off the scent-”</p> <p>Benny raised his voice, trying to call out over the commotion. “Do you have proof?”</p> <p>The chairwoman smiled, raising her hand, and the crowd obediently quieted down. “No, I’m just joking. If I’m allowed to be serious for a moment, she probably doesn’t want us to make the break room uninhabitable by anyone who doesn’t want to hear a terrible rendition of <em>Wannabe</em> every evening.”</p> <p>Faces frowned, heads drooped, dreams shattered. “I’m sorry guys, we tried our absolute best.” Vered turned to face the wall-mounted television. “But the Director says the TV will stay speakerless. As chairwoman, I am therefore ordering the dissolution of this Committee and the redistribution of its assets. Goodnight. ”</p> <p>With a flourish, the no-longer-chairwoman turned the way she had come. Silence broke again as people began to make their way out of the break room.</p> <p>"She really enjoyed that, huh?" Avigail said to Benny when they entered the hallway, walking towards Benny's office.</p> <p>"I can tell. That's why I've been playing along."</p> <p>"Really? Not because you think it's funny?"</p> <p>Benny winked. "Two birds, one stone."</p> <p>"So, what do you say, she Senior Staff material?" Director Nasser's voice made both of them jump. She emerged from behind the corner with a serious expression. Her mass of brown curls was tied in a high ponytail instead of her usual bun.</p> <p>Avigail's brain short-circuited. "I- um, uh, I don't think I'm really qualified to say?"</p> <p>"No, you mostly certainly aren't, but I'm asking you regardless."</p> <p>She glanced at Benny, her expression a plea for help. "I think she is." He said. "She's got the experience and the drive, proven herself a leader. I don't see why not."</p> <p>The Director nodded sagely. "Avigail, do you have anything to add?"</p> <p><em>God what</em> is <em>it with today</em>- "Benny took the words right out of my mouth." She said helplessly.</p> <p>"Very well, thank you both." Nasser broke into a brisk walk, passing them both. "Oh and do me a favor Benny," She called over her shoulder, "Grab the musical <em>Hanukkiah</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> from downstairs and put it in the cafeteria will you?"</p> <p>She was gone before either of them could reply.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>18:25</strong></span></p> </div> <p>The encounter left Benny confused and Avigail strangely shaken, so the two friends split up. As he made his way down the elevator to the containment wing, he wondered what had gotten into his superior. In the few months of her Directorship, Hiba Nasser had established herself as a no-nonsense sort of boss who never skewed from standard Foundation protocol - the total opposite of her predecessor. Ambushing her employees for random advice was certainly not her <em>modus operandi</em>.</p> <p>The elevator opened and he stepped out, waving to the guard at the security checkpoint. The guard waved back, and in a few minutes he was in Low-Risk Storage, scanning the floor-to-ceiling rows of metal lockers for AO-77884. He found it easily, pressed his keycard to the electric lock and took out the item within - an ornate brass <em>Hanukkiah</em>.</p> <p>Billy Joel's <em>"We Didn't Start the Fire"</em> began playing the moment his fingers touched the object. In a stroke of perfect timing, the song ended right as he neatly put it in its place in the cafeteria.</p> <div class="modal"> <p><strong>Anomalous Object #77884 (AO-77884)</strong></p> <p><strong>Item Description:</strong> A <em>Hanukkiah</em> made of brass and copper. When touched by a living creature, the item will begin to play a random song whose lyrics contain the word "fire" at least once. The sound appears to emanate from its center of mass. Songs appear to be of any language, time period, or popularity, ranging from hymns in Ancient Adytite to modern pop.</p> <p><strong>Date of Recovery:</strong> 28-11-2002</p> <p><strong>Location of Recovery:</strong> Yavne, Israel.</p> <p><strong>Current Status:</strong> Stored at Site-48. Used for recreational purposes by Site personnel.</p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>20:33</strong></span></p> </div> <p>Night crept lazily on Site-48, the corridors growing quiet as most employees finished their duties for the day and left by car towards home. As part of the minority living on-Site, Avigail always had a little more free time on her hands. She lay in bed, trying to concentrate on her book. Every few paragraphs her mind would drift and she would find herself thinking of Dana again. She was stuck in a mental loop, the same train of thought passing through the same stations again and again.</p> <p>She sighed, closing the book. She glanced at her closed laptop, thinking of what to do. Eventually, she got up, grabbed her keys and coat, and left her personal quarters. She was planning to go upstairs to get some fresh air, maybe see the stars if the sky was clear, but her eyes passed over Dana’s own quarters and lingered there. Tentatively, she walked towards it, raising her hand to knock…</p> <p>But what was she going to say? Hey, why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend? Just straight up and out of the blue? Her brain ran simulations of the conversation she knew would be wrong. <em>She’s probably in there with Inbar right now, you know.</em> She felt tears form behind her eyes. “Why…” She whispered. “Why her, and not-”</p> <p>“Avigail?” Nasser’s voice made her physically jump, and she turned around rapidly. “Everything alright?”</p> <p>“Uh-yeah! I’m fine.” She looked at the Director quizzically. She appeared to have come from the elevator, which explained why she hadn’t seen anything coming from the door of the Director’s Suite, on the other side of the circular room. “What’re you doing here so late?” She asked, emphasizing the ‘you’.</p> <p>“I forgot my car keys. Besides, it’s only half past eight.” She added, glancing at her wristwatch. ”Are you sure you’re alright? You seem troubled.” Nasser pressed.</p> <p>“Yeah-no, everything’s fine!” She said. “Wait, your car keys? You’re going?” Avigail couldn’t remember the last time Nasser had left the Site. She wasn’t sure she ever had, at least after she became Director.</p> <p>The other woman raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I’ll tell you if <em>you</em> tell me what’s going on.”</p> <p>Avigail groaned. “Fine.” She knew she could refuse, but realized that somewhere deep inside, she did want to talk about it with someone. She definitely didn’t expect her boss to be that someone, though. “But please don’t share this with anyone else.”</p> <p>“My lips are sealed. Shall we?” Nasser gestured at the Director’s Suite. Avigail followed her inside.</p> <hr/> <p>They sat across from one another around a small table. Desert nights are cold, so while the heating turned on Nasser drank some type of tea Avigail didn’t recognize while she sipped hot chocolate. The Director’s Suite had couches and even a large sofa, but they reminded her too much of therapy to sit comfortably in. She was still very confused about Nasser’s sudden curiosity regarding her personal life.</p> <p>“For how long?” Nasser asked.</p> <p>“A year. Almost two now, actually.” She watched the other woman’s eyes widen slightly. “Yeah I know. It’s a lot.”</p> <p>“Wow. That must be… heavy.”</p> <p>“You have no idea. It’s just- I have all these emotions inside me. Sadness, despair, but above all frustration. At my past self, but also at the entire situation. There’s nothing I can do but think about it, and that’s leading me nowhere.” There was a strange clarity in putting it all into words, in saying it out loud.</p> <p>“I understand.” Said Nasser simply.</p> <p>“You do?” It was a silly question, of course. The Director never said anything she didn’t mean.</p> <p>“I’ve had my fair share of one-sided affections. Not at that level, I’m afraid, but I can imagine.” Avigail suddenly realized she didn’t know if Nasser had a spouse at all. She just assumed she did, like the rest of the Site’s senior staff.</p> <p>“Well, you got any tips?” She asked, trying to inject a small laugh into the words. It came off sad.</p> <p>“Yes, actually. I like to put my feelings down in writing, it helps me keep them organized. You can do something similar - find something to channel all those emotions into. Art, maybe. You don’t want to keep it inside.”</p> <p>Avigail nodded. At the intellectual level, she knew Nasser was right. But there was something different about it when she heard it directly. It made more sense somehow.</p> <p>“That’s a good idea.” She took a moment to drink from her glass. “Now, can you tell me what’s going on with <em>you</em>?”</p> <p>Nasser chuckled. “I’m,” She paused for dramatic effect. “Going on vacation.”</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>December 16, 2019</strong></span><br/> <em>Six days earlier</em></p> </div> <p>Hiba Nasser was so stressed she was almost shaking. “Are you sure you can handle it? Absolutely certain? Because if there’s anything you think you’re not up to, anything you’re worried about-”</p> <p>“I’m worried about <em>you</em>.” Interrupted Dr. Zeina Hakim. She was probably the only person at Site-48 who could interrupt the Director at all. “I’ve been here as long as you have - a little longer, even. I can handle being Acting Director for a week.”</p> <p>Hiba practically fell on Zeina. She hugged her friend tightly, nearly entering squeezing territory.</p> <p>“You’ve been burning yourself out, Hiba. You need rest. And you’ve more than earned it.” Zeina said softly.</p> <p>“Thank you.” Hiba whispered. “Thank you so much.” She was crying, she realized. Crying tears of relief. “I’ll put in the Clearance upgrade request-”</p> <p>“Tomorrow.” Said Zeina.</p> <p>“Tomorrow.” She agreed.</p> <hr/> <p>“Oh!” Avigail exclaimed. “Have fun!”</p> <p>“Thank you. I’m going to see my family in Haifa. It’s been far too long. Ever since I became Director, I’ve been so swamped. I thought I knew the extent of Gadol’s neglect, but my God was I wrong.” Hordus Gadol was the previous Site Director. Nasser had been his assistant for nearly twenty years. “And combined with the whole D-Class thing, I just couldn’t breathe. But I’ve done it. I’m taking a break.”</p> <p>“A well-deserved one, if you ask me.” Avigail raised her cup. “To freedom?”</p> <p>Nasser smiled, contemplating the irony of that statement said in a Foundation facility. She raised her own glass and let the satisfying clank fill the air.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:larger;"><strong>23:46</strong></span></p> </div> <p>For the second time this evening, Avigail found herself lying in bed. She was still thinking of Dana, but she was also thinking of what the Director had said. She would almost be at Haifa, now. Her Bluetooth speaker was playing Fiona Apple’s “<em>Paper Bag</em>”.</p> <p><em>“-find something to channel all those emotions into. Art, maybe.”</em></p> <p><em>“-one-way affection-”</em></p> <p>An idea flashed in her head. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she jumped out of bed and took out a notebook and pencil from her bedside drawers. She paused the song, the melody repeating in her head, and began to write. The words flowed smoothly, pausing briefly only to think of the right rhymes. When she was done, she let herself drift off to her sleep. She was still frustrated. Still sad, still angry, still disappointed. But the feeling was bittersweet in a way now.</p> <p>She thought it was because now, she also felt a little proud.<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>I’m trapped in a room, steel below and above</em><br/> <em>Blank white nothing as far as I can see</em><br/> <em>There’s a chain ‘round my neck and it’s made of love</em><br/> <em>Oh why can’t it just let me be</em></p> <p><em>It’s the type of love that makes me cry at night</em><br/> <em>It’s the sort of love with no future in sight</em><br/> <em>A kind of love that goes only one direction</em><br/> <em>It’s a tragedy of one-way affection</em></p> <p><em>The type of love that runs my thoughts round and round</em><br/> <em>In never-ending circles, Oh I’m mentally bound</em><br/> <em>It’s the type of love that simply cannot be</em><br/> <em>And it hurts and it aches and it tears right through me</em></p> <p><em>Oh why did I have to fall for you</em><br/> <em>Now there’s nothing for me to do</em><br/> <em>‘Cause you’ve already found someone of your own</em><br/> <em>And I’m tied up in this room, shackled and alone</em></p> <p><em>I wish I could let go, with all of my heart</em><br/> <em>Heaven knows, it’s tearing me apart</em><br/> <em>But I can’t just stop the way I feel</em><br/> <em>So I’m stuck between these slabs of steel</em></p> <p><em>There’s a chain ‘round my neck and it’s made out of love</em><br/> <em>Impossible love</em></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/paper-bag">Paper Bag</a>" by UNCGriffin, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/paper-bag">https://scpwiki.com/paper-bag</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. A type of deep-fried doughnuts traditionally eaten during the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. A nine-branched candelabrum lit during Hanukkah.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[module css]] a#history-button, a#files-button { display: none; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --page-font-size: 0.95rem; --header-subtitle: "Negev Desert Research and Containment Site-48"; --logo-img: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/lsb_logo.svg); } [[/module]] [[=]] [[size larger]]December 22, 2019[[/size]] [[size larger]]15:22[[/size]] [[/=]] "Wait-wait-wait, they're DATING?!" "Well it's only been like a month, I think but uh, yeah? What, you jealous or something?" "No, no, I'm just surprised she didn't tell me. Huh. Weird." [[[scp-7309\|Avigail Sigal]]], Junior Researcher of the SCP Foundation and grown-ass woman, was reflecting on her life decisions in Site-48's cafeteria. Benny's words had slammed into her like a sledgehammer, and she had just barely managed to hide the bruises. It was stupid, ridiculous, like she was in high school again, hopelessly falling for girls far above her league. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. 'It', of course, referring to her good friend and the yearlong subject of her crush, Technician Dana Eyal, who was currently playing an intense game of Coup a few tables away from her. Also at that table was, of course, Inbar, Dana's apparently existent girlfriend. Avigail sucked in a few more sips of her comfort orange juice, twisting a bundle of her black curls around her finger. This was going to be a long day. “That is strange, I thought you knew. Aren’t you pretty close?” Benny unintentionally brought the hammer down again. Her mental walls buckled. “Yeah, at least I think so.” Avigail’s head continued to spin from the revelation. “She probably just forgot, she does that a lot.” She finished her glass. “Not dating, I mean - forgetting who she already told and who she didn’t- never mind. Point is, I highly doubt she was intentionally hiding this from me, that makes no sense whatsoever. We’re not living in a bad teenage drama, thank God.” She stood up. “I need to get back to work. Catch you later…?” “At the Karaoke Committee, of course. Six PM sharp!” He half-whispered genially. Avigail rolled her eyes. “Sure, it’s bound to be at least somewhat funny. I’ll come.” ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]17:30[[/size]] [[/=]] “I know what you’re planning, Vered.” [[[scp-7731\|Director Hiba Nasser]]] struggled not to grin mischievously at the researcher before her desk. “Your request is denied.” “Why?!” Vered wailed. “We have the funding, please I’m-” “No is no.” Hiba handed the proposal back to Vered’s shaking hands. It was surprisingly difficult to tell how much of the researcher’s despair was an act and how much of it was genuine. Hiba settled on ‘heavily exaggerated truth’ as she leaned back in her chair and corrected her glasses. “And that’s final. Anything else?” Vered sighed, accepting defeat. “Yes. As per usual, I need your signature to bring AO-77884 out of storage for Hanukkah," She gave the Director a thin booklet, already signed by Benny, the small Site's Containment Specialist. "And a meager sum of five hundred NIS for the procurement of appropriate //Sufganyot//[[footnote]]A type of deep-fried doughnuts traditionally eaten during the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah.[[/footnote]]." Hiba flipped through the pages, signing where appropriate. //I really need an assistant, and I need them soon.// The position of Assistant Director had been vacant ever since she'd left the post and became Director herself, a few months ago. That left a lot of the banal administrative work to her. It did have its benefits occasionally. "I'll give you a thousand - but get all the fancy ones with the dark chocolate and extra candy. Keep the jelly //Sufganyot// percentage below 10%. That’s an order." “Aye, Ma’am.” Vered gave Hiba an exaggerated salute and left her alone in her office. The Director glanced at the clock. //17:52//. Smiling, she opened the live security feed from the breakroom on her terminal, and went to grab a cup of coffee. ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]17:40[[/size]] [[/=]] Avigail watched the lab rats as they scurried through the small tunnel network of clear plastic, her work laptop open on a blank template in front of her. She was supposed to be noting down the emergence of nationalistic traits in the murine community, a result of eating an anomalous strain of cherry tomatoes pending SCP classification. Instead, she was thinking about Dana, her heart pounding. She had met her on her first week at the Foundation when her laptop refused to connect to the intranet. Unsurprisingly, the problem was solved in less than twenty seconds. Still, it was enough to get her name and remember her face when she saw her again at lunch. They became fast friends. She the newbie who could barely get SCiPnet to work and Dana the engineer who knew what made every machine tick. It wasn’t long before Avigail realized she was in love. And now it was too late. She had missed her chance, and would likely never get another. Envy and regret roiled and bubbled with each thought. //Maybe it won’t work out, and you’ll be the One after all.// //They’ll break up, and you’ll//- No. She reeled that stray thought back in. She was better than that, she couldn’t let herself devolve into cartoon villainy. //Your own cowardice led you here. When were you planning to confess?// Every personal deadline she had set had passed by her like leaves in a stream. She tried to refocus on her work. Her notes came out erratic and half-baked, but it was better than nothing. At 17:55 she swapped shifts with the other Junior Researcher at the lab with a weak apology and left for the breakroom. She still wasn’t entirely sure what the Karaoke Committee actually was, but she figured it could at least serve as a welcome distraction from her mental prison. ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]18:00[[/size]] [[/=]] Everything was small in Site-48, and the break room was no exception. It hosted little more than a handful of couches, two low tables, and a coffee machine. Currently, however, it also hosted the fourteen members of the Karaoke Committee alongside a number of curious observers, making it rather loud and cramped. Mercifully, neither Dana nor her newfound partner were present. Avigail had just made it over to where Benny was leaning on a wall when the chairwoman entered the room. “I bring forth dire news.” Vered began, silencing the small crowd. She wore a dress shirt with a tie, standing out amongst the t-shirts and labcoats. “It appears we have a mole within our ranks.” A few people gasped dramatically, someone chuckled. The silence immediately broke again as conspiracies and accusations began to fly. “What?! How?” “That’s impossible!” “It’s got to be Zeina, right? They’ve been friends for years!” “I told you we should have been more selective-” “It’s Vered! She’s trying to throw us off the scent-” Benny raised his voice, trying to call out over the commotion. “Do you have proof?” The chairwoman smiled, raising her hand, and the crowd obediently quieted down. “No, I’m just joking. If I’m allowed to be serious for a moment, she probably doesn’t want us to make the break room uninhabitable by anyone who doesn’t want to hear a terrible rendition of //Wannabe// every evening.” Faces frowned, heads drooped, dreams shattered. “I’m sorry guys, we tried our absolute best.” Vered turned to face the wall-mounted television. “But the Director says the TV will stay speakerless. As chairwoman, I am therefore ordering the dissolution of this Committee and the redistribution of its assets. Goodnight. ” With a flourish, the no-longer-chairwoman turned the way she had come. Silence broke again as people began to make their way out of the break room. "She really enjoyed that, huh?" Avigail said to Benny when they entered the hallway, walking towards Benny's office. "I can tell. That's why I've been playing along." "Really? Not because you think it's funny?" Benny winked. "Two birds, one stone." "So, what do you say, she Senior Staff material?" Director Nasser's voice made both of them jump. She emerged from behind the corner with a serious expression. Her mass of brown curls was tied in a high ponytail instead of her usual bun. Avigail's brain short-circuited. "I- um, uh, I don't think I'm really qualified to say?" "No, you mostly certainly aren't, but I'm asking you regardless." She glanced at Benny, her expression a plea for help. "I think she is." He said. "She's got the experience and the drive, proven herself a leader. I don't see why not." The Director nodded sagely. "Avigail, do you have anything to add?" //God what// is //it with today//- "Benny took the words right out of my mouth." She said helplessly. "Very well, thank you both." Nasser broke into a brisk walk, passing them both. "Oh and do me a favor Benny," She called over her shoulder, "Grab the musical //Hanukkiah//[[footnote]]A nine-branched candelabrum lit during Hanukkah.[[/footnote]] from downstairs and put it in the cafeteria will you?" She was gone before either of them could reply. ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]18:25[[/size]] [[/=]] The encounter left Benny confused and Avigail strangely shaken, so the two friends split up. As he made his way down the elevator to the containment wing, he wondered what had gotten into his superior. In the few months of her Directorship, Hiba Nasser had established herself as a no-nonsense sort of boss who never skewed from standard Foundation protocol - the total opposite of her predecessor. Ambushing her employees for random advice was certainly not her //modus operandi//. The elevator opened and he stepped out, waving to the guard at the security checkpoint. The guard waved back, and in a few minutes he was in Low-Risk Storage, scanning the floor-to-ceiling rows of metal lockers for AO-77884. He found it easily, pressed his keycard to the electric lock and took out the item within - an ornate brass //Hanukkiah//. Billy Joel's //"We Didn't Start the Fire"// began playing the moment his fingers touched the object. In a stroke of perfect timing, the song ended right as he neatly put it in its place in the cafeteria. [[div class="modal"]] Anomalous Object #77884 (AO-77884) Item Description: A //Hanukkiah// made of brass and copper. When touched by a living creature, the item will begin to play a random song whose lyrics contain the word "fire" at least once. The sound appears to emanate from its center of mass. Songs appear to be of any language, time period, or popularity, ranging from hymns in Ancient Adytite to modern pop. Date of Recovery: 28-11-2002 Location of Recovery: Yavne, Israel. Current Status: Stored at Site-48. Used for recreational purposes by Site personnel. [[/div]] ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]20:33[[/size]] [[/=]] Night crept lazily on Site-48, the corridors growing quiet as most employees finished their duties for the day and left by car towards home. As part of the minority living on-Site, Avigail always had a little more free time on her hands. She lay in bed, trying to concentrate on her book. Every few paragraphs her mind would drift and she would find herself thinking of Dana again. She was stuck in a mental loop, the same train of thought passing through the same stations again and again. She sighed, closing the book. She glanced at her closed laptop, thinking of what to do. Eventually, she got up, grabbed her keys and coat, and left her personal quarters. She was planning to go upstairs to get some fresh air, maybe see the stars if the sky was clear, but her eyes passed over Dana’s own quarters and lingered there. Tentatively, she walked towards it, raising her hand to knock… But what was she going to say? Hey, why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend? Just straight up and out of the blue? Her brain ran simulations of the conversation she knew would be wrong. //She’s probably in there with Inbar right now, you know.// She felt tears form behind her eyes. “Why…” She whispered. “Why her, and not-” “Avigail?” Nasser’s voice made her physically jump, and she turned around rapidly. “Everything alright?” “Uh-yeah! I’m fine.” She looked at the Director quizzically. She appeared to have come from the elevator, which explained why she hadn’t seen anything coming from the door of the Director’s Suite, on the other side of the circular room. “What’re you doing here so late?” She asked, emphasizing the ‘you’. “I forgot my car keys. Besides, it’s only half past eight.” She added, glancing at her wristwatch. ”Are you sure you’re alright? You seem troubled.” Nasser pressed. “Yeah-no, everything’s fine!” She said. “Wait, your car keys? You’re going?” Avigail couldn’t remember the last time Nasser had left the Site. She wasn’t sure she ever had, at least after she became Director. The other woman raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I’ll tell you if //you// tell me what’s going on.” Avigail groaned. “Fine.” She knew she could refuse, but realized that somewhere deep inside, she did want to talk about it with someone. She definitely didn’t expect her boss to be that someone, though. “But please don’t share this with anyone else.” “My lips are sealed. Shall we?” Nasser gestured at the Director’s Suite. Avigail followed her inside. ----- They sat across from one another around a small table. Desert nights are cold, so while the heating turned on Nasser drank some type of tea Avigail didn’t recognize while she sipped hot chocolate. The Director’s Suite had couches and even a large sofa, but they reminded her too much of therapy to sit comfortably in. She was still very confused about Nasser’s sudden curiosity regarding her personal life. “For how long?” Nasser asked. “A year. Almost two now, actually.” She watched the other woman’s eyes widen slightly. “Yeah I know. It’s a lot.” “Wow. That must be… heavy.” “You have no idea. It’s just- I have all these emotions inside me. Sadness, despair, but above all frustration. At my past self, but also at the entire situation. There’s nothing I can do but think about it, and that’s leading me nowhere.” There was a strange clarity in putting it all into words, in saying it out loud. “I understand.” Said Nasser simply. “You do?” It was a silly question, of course. The Director never said anything she didn’t mean. “I’ve had my fair share of one-sided affections. Not at that level, I’m afraid, but I can imagine.” Avigail suddenly realized she didn’t know if Nasser had a spouse at all. She just assumed she did, like the rest of the Site’s senior staff. “Well, you got any tips?” She asked, trying to inject a small laugh into the words. It came off sad. “Yes, actually. I like to put my feelings down in writing, it helps me keep them organized. You can do something similar - find something to channel all those emotions into. Art, maybe. You don’t want to keep it inside.” Avigail nodded. At the intellectual level, she knew Nasser was right. But there was something different about it when she heard it directly. It made more sense somehow. “That’s a good idea.” She took a moment to drink from her glass. “Now, can you tell me what’s going on with //you//?” Nasser chuckled. “I’m,” She paused for dramatic effect. “Going on vacation.” ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]December 16, 2019[[/size]] //Six days earlier// [[/=]] Hiba Nasser was so stressed she was almost shaking. “Are you sure you can handle it? Absolutely certain? Because if there’s anything you think you’re not up to, anything you’re worried about-” “I’m worried about //you//.” Interrupted Dr. Zeina Hakim. She was probably the only person at Site-48 who could interrupt the Director at all. “I’ve been here as long as you have - a little longer, even. I can handle being Acting Director for a week.” Hiba practically fell on Zeina. She hugged her friend tightly, nearly entering squeezing territory. “You’ve been burning yourself out, Hiba. You need rest. And you’ve more than earned it.” Zeina said softly. “Thank you.” Hiba whispered. “Thank you so much.” She was crying, she realized. Crying tears of relief. “I’ll put in the Clearance upgrade request-” “Tomorrow.” Said Zeina. “Tomorrow.” She agreed. ----- “Oh!” Avigail exclaimed. “Have fun!” “Thank you. I’m going to see my family in Haifa. It’s been far too long. Ever since I became Director, I’ve been so swamped. I thought I knew the extent of Gadol’s neglect, but my God was I wrong.” Hordus Gadol was the previous Site Director. Nasser had been his assistant for nearly twenty years. “And combined with the whole D-Class thing, I just couldn’t breathe. But I’ve done it. I’m taking a break.” “A well-deserved one, if you ask me.” Avigail raised her cup. “To freedom?” Nasser smiled, contemplating the irony of that statement said in a Foundation facility. She raised her own glass and let the satisfying clank fill the air. ----- [[=]] [[size larger]]23:46[[/size]] [[/=]] For the second time this evening, Avigail found herself lying in bed. She was still thinking of Dana, but she was also thinking of what the Director had said. She would almost be at Haifa, now. Her Bluetooth speaker was playing Fiona Apple’s “//Paper Bag//”. //“-find something to channel all those emotions into. Art, maybe.”// //“-one-way affection-”// An idea flashed in her head. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she jumped out of bed and took out a notebook and pencil from her bedside drawers. She paused the song, the melody repeating in her head, and began to write. The words flowed smoothly, pausing briefly only to think of the right rhymes. When she was done, she let herself drift off to her sleep. She was still frustrated. Still sad, still angry, still disappointed. But the feeling was bittersweet in a way now. She thought it was because now, she also felt a little proud. [[=]] //I’m trapped in a room, steel below and above// //Blank white nothing as far as I can see// //There’s a chain ‘round my neck and it’s made of love// //Oh why can’t it just let me be// //It’s the type of love that makes me cry at night// //It’s the sort of love with no future in sight// //A kind of love that goes only one direction// //It’s a tragedy of one-way affection// //The type of love that runs my thoughts round and round// //In never-ending circles, Oh I’m mentally bound// //It’s the type of love that simply cannot be// //And it hurts and it aches and it tears right through me// //Oh why did I have to fall for you// //Now there’s nothing for me to do// //‘Cause you’ve already found someone of your own// //And I’m tied up in this room, shackled and alone// //I wish I could let go, with all of my heart// //Heaven knows, it’s tearing me apart// //But I can’t just stop the way I feel// //So I’m stuck between these slabs of steel// //There’s a chain ‘round my neck and it’s made out of love// //Impossible love// [[/=]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=UNCGriffin]] ===== ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-31T17:44:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "bittersweet", "lgbtq", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Paper Bag - SCP Foundation	21	[ "scp-7309", "scp-7731", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1452007817	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/paper-bag
paralytic-states	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This work of fiction involves scenes which depict or allude to topics which may be particularly distressing for some readers:</p> <ul> <li>Dysphoria</li> <li>Homophobia</li> <li>Transphobia</li> <li>Sexual Assault</li> </ul> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><strong>I am 5 years old.</strong></p> <p>One of my earliest memories is of me playing baseball with some kids from the neighborhood I grew up in. Because I couldn't really run too fast or throw well, I was assigned to left field, where the balls rarely end up. But as is my luck, a ball just so happens to end up on my side of the field, and I have to run for it. I barely manage to catch up to it, but I can still make the throw.</p> <p>I throw the ball as hard as I can to third base, but it comes up short. This ends up costing us the game, since in the time it took for me to run to the ball and throw it, and for the kid on third base to run up to where I threw the ball, two other kids have stolen third base and scored runs. As you might imagine, this doesn't earn me any friends. One boy, in particular, says I throw like a girl.</p> <p>Despite his intentions, this doesn't bother me anywhere near as much as he might have thought it would.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 7 years old.</strong></p> <p>My dad left my mom and me three weeks before my seventh birthday. He moved up north, to Oregon, to 'find himself.' Something I wouldn't come to understand until much later. My mom threw me a birthday party despite having recently become a stereotypically stressed-out single mother. I don't remember much about the party. It was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles themed, something I pretended to like to keep up appearances. My relatives spent the entire time telling me how good a boy I was for not crying that my dad didn't come to my party. How handsome I was. How strong I was going to be when I grew up.</p> <p>Those words left me with a lingering feeling that something wasn't right with me. This wasn't my birthday party. This was some little boy's birthday party that I had hijacked and falsely become the star of. I felt like crying the entire time I was there, but I stayed strong for my mom's sake. As much as I wanted to cry, I know she wanted to cry more than I did.</p> <p>But that night, after everyone had left and my mom had gone to bed, I cried alone under my blankets.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 9 years old.</strong></p> <p>It's the summer. I am old enough to stay home alone while my mom goes off to work. Every day I get up early to watch her put her makeup on so that I may do the same when she leaves. Lipstick is easy, I paint my Cupid's bow with the tube and smile so it sets naturally. Mascara is a little trickier; I don't feel comfortable bringing something so close to my eyes but I still apply it all the same. Because my mom is a darker skin tone than I am, her concealer and mascara don't really look good on me. It's my dirty little secret, something I did every day until school came back around.</p> <p>Everyone always says I look like my father. I want to look like my mom. The ease of her pose, the grace of her silhouette, everything about her is so quintessentially correct to me and something that I could not emulate. At this point, everything about my experience feels like the baseline for every little boy, so I ask my friend Gabriel if he wants to look like his mother. He says no, he wants to grow up to be like his dad and look like him too.</p> <p>I wonder if maybe there's something wrong with me.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 10 years old.</strong></p> <p>The concept of romantic attraction enters my mindscape through my first crush, my friend Gabriel. He likes dumb boy things, but he's nice to me all the time and he never picks on me when I suck at baseball or Super Mario World. Valentine's Day is coming up and I decide that I want to make him a nice card. My mom catches me making it late one night and asks me what girl I'm making it for. I lie and tell her it's for my friend, Vanessa. She smiles and says it's nice for a boy to make such thoughtful things for a girl. I wonder if that means no one would make nice things for me.</p> <p>Valentine's Day comes, and I approach Gabriel during lunch with my handmade Valentine. I feel pretty confident in myself as I give it to him, something which quickly fades away as he opens it and reads it. He yells at me, calls me a <em>maricón</em>, and rips up my hand-crafted Valentine. I don't know what <em>maricón</em> means; my mom never taught me Spanish, but deep in my heart, I know it means something bad. Tears well up in my eyes as I stagger backward, desperately trying to escape. His friends all join in, calling me a <em>maricón</em>, a fairy, a faggot.</p> <p>I run out of the lunchroom and into the nearby janitor's closet, which by some miracle wasn't locked. I cry alone for what feels like hours, until the lunch monitor, Mrs. Nicholson, opens the door and sees me crying. She kneels down beside me and asks me what happened. I foolishly tell her everything, which only leads to her face turning from the kind smile I always knew to a tight grimace. She tells me that what I just did is an affront to God. I wasn't raised religiously, but I knew God was a big deal. The tears flow again.</p> <p>I wish I could take it all back and never give Gabriel the Valentine.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 11 years old.</strong></p> <p>I have no friends. Gabriel told everyone about the Valentine, so he and I don't play Super Mario World anymore, or baseball, or watch TV together, or bike to each other's houses. His mom told my mom about what happened and my mom had a very weird conversation with me about how no matter what, I would always be her son. It didn't sit well with me. I also don't understand why what I did with Gabriel was so bad, but I realize that adults think it's a big deal so I keep it to myself.</p> <p>There's a new show I like called Sailor Moon, in which the main character goes through a lengthy transformation sequence to become a magical girl. I find myself dreaming about the transformation sequences, wishing that I could go through one of them and find myself turned into a girl. I don't often have recurring dreams, but this one happens almost nightly. I wake up in a cold sweat each time, crying my eyes out.</p> <p>For the first time in my life, I feel what it's like to be depressed.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 12 years old.</strong></p> <p>My mom gets a computer and internet connection for the house. I set my AOL name as Serena because it's the name of the main character in Sailor Moon and I like it. I spend my time in rooms for kids and teenagers, talking about Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Sailor Moon. Some nights when my mom isn't home, I enter some more grown-up chats to ask if anyone ever feels like something is not right with them. Through some luck, I manage to talk to someone named Abbie who tells me about "Gender Identity Disorder".</p> <p>Through Abbie, I find out that I'm not alone in the world. Abbie is very kind and friendly, and she seems to know an awful lot about my situation. I wonder if she was like me. She tells me that's private information, and that if I ever get asked, I shouldn't answer. She tells me I'll be safer like that. She tells me that it's not great, but I'll be safer until I can move somewhere else that is more accepting of people like me.</p> <p>For the first time in my life, I feel companionship.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 13 years old.</strong></p> <p>Puberty has come in full force and I hate every second of it. There's hair on my legs, my upper lip, my armpits, my arms, everywhere. My voice deepens. I start growing taller. I wish that I could just stay delicate, petite, and other things I never will be again. I spend most of my time in the bathroom desperately shaving all the hair off with a razor, cutting myself over and over and over again. Sometimes intentionally. But mostly accidentally.</p> <p>Dad has me for the summer. He lives in a tiny town called Boring, which seems appropriate. We go on hikes all the time. He and his new wife, Alice, call me handsome all the time and it makes me feel like something is crawling underneath my skin. Of course, I don't tell this to dad, as it would only make him feel uncomfortable. He was already a little uncomfortable with me coming over because he was so confident that my mom had raised me to hate him (She hadn't.) and things would be weird between us.</p> <p>What I miss most of all is doing my makeup during the summer when mom wasn't around.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong>I am 14 years old.</strong></p> <p>I resent my coach for forcing the boys and girls into separate groups and having the girls do "girl pushups". I wish I could do girl pushups. I am the last to be picked for basketball because no team wants to have a faggot among them. When I am eventually forced to play by the coach, I get balls chucked at the back of my head. I get tripped. I get called a faggot by Gabriel and his friends, and the coach does nothing to stop them.</p> <p>The showers after gym are a nightmare to traverse. Boys everywhere, all of them naked and bantering. I get pushed against a wall by a football player and he sticks a finger in my ass, and asks me if I like that. I get kicked in the groin by another and am left a weeping mess on the moldy bathroom tile floor.</p> <p>I know that if I tell on them it will only get worse, so I keep it to myself.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 15 years old.</strong></p> <p>I meet someone named Barbara on AOL and start talking to her. She's my age, and lives the next town over. I finally have a girl friend I can talk to about my crushes and my interests. We spend nights talking about the latest episodes of Roseanne or Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. She thinks Carlton is cute and funny, but I like Will because he's not afraid to live as himself. One night, Barbara asks me if I've had my period yet, to which I don't know how to answer.</p> <p>I panic and I tell her I don't know what she's talking about but beg her to still be friends with me. She very politely informs me what a period is, and I finally have one thing I do not envy about girls. I don't know if she suspected me of not being who I said I was then, but she didn't say anything and we kept on being friends.</p> <p>I'm glad she did that.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 16 years old.</strong></p> <p>Halloween is around the corner. This is decidedly the last year I can ever go out trick-or-treating with my cousins, so I have to make it special somehow. I decide I want to dress up as the only thing I can be; a girl. It's not a hard sell for my mom; she easily embraces the idea since it's cheap and nothing too dangerous. She also has some clothes to donate to my efforts. She even offers to help with my makeup, which I graciously accept.</p> <p>After some fussing with clothes, makeup, a bra, and some tissue paper, my costume is complete. I stand in the mirror for days before the event admiring myself in it. I spend time at school daydreaming about wearing the costume that feels more like myself than I ever could normally. It's even got a skirt that spins. It spins!</p> <p>For the first time in my life, I feel genuine joy.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> This, however, does not last long.</p> <p>I wait for the sun to come down before I head out to meet my cousins, not wanting to draw more attention to myself. They don't ask questions, which I am grateful for. We head out to hit up the houses for some candy. Everything seems to be going well until we come upon Gabriel's house. I hadn't been there in years and was so caught up in finally being myself that I didn't notice the way we were heading.</p> <p>Much to my surprise, he answered the door when we rang the button. We locked eyes and I could feel a knot in my stomach as he stared at me. Suddenly, he smiled. He laughed. "Wait till everyone in school hears about this," then I could hear his voice echoing in my ears like all those years before. "Faggot." I could feel my eyes beginning to water. My little cousins, too young to understand what was being said and why I was reacting the way I was, ask me what a faggot is.</p> <p>"Me. That's what I am," I tell them. But something doesn't feel quite right to me. The sadness I feel is being quickly replaced by something else. The tears streaming down my cheeks start to steam before they reach my chin, ruining my makeup. I feel something I haven't quite felt before in my life.</p> <p>For the first time in my life, I felt rage.</p> <p>If that's all I was going to be to the world, I might as well own it. I decided then and there that I was done taking it from everyone. I wasn't <span style="color: transparent; text-shadow: 0 0 7px rgba(0,0,0,.5)">Felix</span> any more. I was… I needed a new name. I could think of that later. But for now, I needed to let Gabriel know that I wasn't going to take it anymore. I told my cousins to go, and that I would meet them at the curb. With them gone, I punched him in the face. However, much to my surprise, he recovered quickly and punched me in the nose in return.</p> <p>I don't remember much of what happened the rest of that night. I went to the hospital, and finally had a talk with my mom.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>I am 17 years old.</strong></p> <p>My new name is Faeowynn. It means 'spirit of the forest.' Mom sometimes has trouble with it, and sometimes still calls me by my deadname, but I don't hold it against her. I know she's trying. I started taking estrogen pills over the summer. They taste sour. Progress is slow, but I can feel it taking effect. Very slowly. But it's happening. Mom pulled me out of public school and started homeschooling me. She has to quit one of her jobs, but she makes up for it by asking dad for more money. He hasn't talked to me in a long time, but he's apparently very busy with his new job so I don't blame him. I miss him. <a href="/coming-out-to-the-woods">I ask mom to send me up to Portland so I can go on a hike with him.</a></p> <p>For the first time in a long time, I don't feel as depressed.</p> <p>I feel confident enough in my appearance to send Barbara a picture of myself. She says I look pretty. I ask her if she really means it, and she says yes, then adds she likes my makeup. I can't take full credit for that though. Barbara says she knew that I wasn't a normal girl for a while now. I wonder what gave me away but decide not to dwell on it. Instead, I choose to be happy.</p> <p>I wear the clothes I like, mom teaches me how to do my makeup, and I'm on my way to becoming a real woman. Abbie says I shouldn't talk like that, she says I've always been a real woman. I have a hard time coming to terms with that because deep down I remember that sad, scared little boy I was once upon a time. But she's right.</p> <p>I am Faeowynn Wilson, and I am a woman.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Uncle Nicolini's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5231">SCP-5231</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-es-115">SCP-ES-115</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3867">SCP-3867</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7260">SCP-7260</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3297">SCP-3297</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-726-ex">SCP-726-EX</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8984">SCP-8984</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-es-113">SCP-ES-113</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6057">SCP-6057</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7221">SCP-7221</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8726">SCP-8726</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7727">SCP-7727</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-es-076">SCP-ES-076</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-057-int">SCP-057-INT</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2910-jp">SCP-2910-JP</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/spc-7000">SPC-7000</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-chuck">Critter Profile: Chuck.</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/piercing-the-veil">Masquerade's End</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/veilfall">What Came After</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/just-another-day">Just Another Day</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/world-went-beautiful">Dark was the night, cold was the ground.</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/nicos-stupid-proposal">UN's Proposal... Maybe.</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/tim-wilson-s-close-shave">Tim Wilson's Close Shave</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/daeva-cooking-and-you">Daeva Cooking And You</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/september-eleven-prequel">Frenzied Overture</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/theres-ngo-helping-this-one">There's Ngo Helping This One</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/corncrake-of-destiny">The Corncrake Of Destiny</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/an-epitaph-for-scp-173">An Epitaph For SCP-173</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/la-persistencia-de-la-memoria">La Persistencia De La Memoria</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/wonder-world-dossier">Wonder World Dossier</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/ode-to-the-unknown-author">Ode To The Unknown Author</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/uncle-nicolini-author-page">uncle nicolini author page</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/sciptember-2022-art">Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/paralytic-states">Paralytic States</a>" by Uncle Nicolini, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/paralytic-states">https://scpwiki.com/paralytic-states</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> caterpillar.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Caterpillar on branch<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> @Firkin<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Caterpillar-on-branch/51756.html">Link</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> butterfly.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Vintage Butterfly Clipart Skiss<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Karen Arnold<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/se/view-image.php?image=493265&picture=vintage-butterfly-clipart-skiss">Link</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:scp-pride">:scp-wiki:component:scp-pride</a>]] [[module css]] #footer { font-size: x-small; background: #ffafc7; color: black; } div#page-options-container a, div.page-tags a { color: #e51f47; } div#page-options-container a:visited, div.page-tags a:visited { color: #8d112a; } #footer a { color: #e51f47; } #license-area { font-size: x-small; background: #5bcefa; color: black; } #license-area a { color: #056c94; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] ⚠️ Content warning: This work of fiction involves scenes which depict or allude to topics which may be particularly distressing for some readers: * Dysphoria * Homophobia * Transphobia * Sexual Assault [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[=]] @@ @@[[image caterpillar.png style="width:15%;" link=#]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 5 years old. One of my earliest memories is of me playing baseball with some kids from the neighborhood I grew up in. Because I couldn't really run too fast or throw well, I was assigned to left field, where the balls rarely end up. But as is my luck, a ball just so happens to end up on my side of the field, and I have to run for it. I barely manage to catch up to it, but I can still make the throw. I throw the ball as hard as I can to third base, but it comes up short. This ends up costing us the game, since in the time it took for me to run to the ball and throw it, and for the kid on third base to run up to where I threw the ball, two other kids have stolen third base and scored runs. As you might imagine, this doesn't earn me any friends. One boy, in particular, says I throw like a girl. Despite his intentions, this doesn't bother me anywhere near as much as he might have thought it would. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 7 years old. My dad left my mom and me three weeks before my seventh birthday. He moved up north, to Oregon, to 'find himself.' Something I wouldn't come to understand until much later. My mom threw me a birthday party despite having recently become a stereotypically stressed-out single mother. I don't remember much about the party. It was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles themed, something I pretended to like to keep up appearances. My relatives spent the entire time telling me how good a boy I was for not crying that my dad didn't come to my party. How handsome I was. How strong I was going to be when I grew up. Those words left me with a lingering feeling that something wasn't right with me. This wasn't my birthday party. This was some little boy's birthday party that I had hijacked and falsely become the star of. I felt like crying the entire time I was there, but I stayed strong for my mom's sake. As much as I wanted to cry, I know she wanted to cry more than I did. But that night, after everyone had left and my mom had gone to bed, I cried alone under my blankets. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 9 years old. It's the summer. I am old enough to stay home alone while my mom goes off to work. Every day I get up early to watch her put her makeup on so that I may do the same when she leaves. Lipstick is easy, I paint my Cupid's bow with the tube and smile so it sets naturally. Mascara is a little trickier; I don't feel comfortable bringing something so close to my eyes but I still apply it all the same. Because my mom is a darker skin tone than I am, her concealer and mascara don't really look good on me. It's my dirty little secret, something I did every day until school came back around. Everyone always says I look like my father. I want to look like my mom. The ease of her pose, the grace of her silhouette, everything about her is so quintessentially correct to me and something that I could not emulate. At this point, everything about my experience feels like the baseline for every little boy, so I ask my friend Gabriel if he wants to look like his mother. He says no, he wants to grow up to be like his dad and look like him too. I wonder if maybe there's something wrong with me. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 10 years old. The concept of romantic attraction enters my mindscape through my first crush, my friend Gabriel. He likes dumb boy things, but he's nice to me all the time and he never picks on me when I suck at baseball or Super Mario World. Valentine's Day is coming up and I decide that I want to make him a nice card. My mom catches me making it late one night and asks me what girl I'm making it for. I lie and tell her it's for my friend, Vanessa. She smiles and says it's nice for a boy to make such thoughtful things for a girl. I wonder if that means no one would make nice things for me. Valentine's Day comes, and I approach Gabriel during lunch with my handmade Valentine. I feel pretty confident in myself as I give it to him, something which quickly fades away as he opens it and reads it. He yells at me, calls me a //maricón//, and rips up my hand-crafted Valentine. I don't know what //maricón// means; my mom never taught me Spanish, but deep in my heart, I know it means something bad. Tears well up in my eyes as I stagger backward, desperately trying to escape. His friends all join in, calling me a //maricón//, a fairy, a faggot. I run out of the lunchroom and into the nearby janitor's closet, which by some miracle wasn't locked. I cry alone for what feels like hours, until the lunch monitor, Mrs. Nicholson, opens the door and sees me crying. She kneels down beside me and asks me what happened. I foolishly tell her everything, which only leads to her face turning from the kind smile I always knew to a tight grimace. She tells me that what I just did is an affront to God. I wasn't raised religiously, but I knew God was a big deal. The tears flow again. I wish I could take it all back and never give Gabriel the Valentine. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 11 years old. I have no friends. Gabriel told everyone about the Valentine, so he and I don't play Super Mario World anymore, or baseball, or watch TV together, or bike to each other's houses. His mom told my mom about what happened and my mom had a very weird conversation with me about how no matter what, I would always be her son. It didn't sit well with me. I also don't understand why what I did with Gabriel was so bad, but I realize that adults think it's a big deal so I keep it to myself. There's a new show I like called Sailor Moon, in which the main character goes through a lengthy transformation sequence to become a magical girl. I find myself dreaming about the transformation sequences, wishing that I could go through one of them and find myself turned into a girl. I don't often have recurring dreams, but this one happens almost nightly. I wake up in a cold sweat each time, crying my eyes out. For the first time in my life, I feel what it's like to be depressed. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 12 years old. My mom gets a computer and internet connection for the house. I set my AOL name as Serena because it's the name of the main character in Sailor Moon and I like it. I spend my time in rooms for kids and teenagers, talking about Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Sailor Moon. Some nights when my mom isn't home, I enter some more grown-up chats to ask if anyone ever feels like something is not right with them. Through some luck, I manage to talk to someone named Abbie who tells me about "Gender Identity Disorder". Through Abbie, I find out that I'm not alone in the world. Abbie is very kind and friendly, and she seems to know an awful lot about my situation. I wonder if she was like me. She tells me that's private information, and that if I ever get asked, I shouldn't answer. She tells me I'll be safer like that. She tells me that it's not great, but I'll be safer until I can move somewhere else that is more accepting of people like me. For the first time in my life, I feel companionship. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 13 years old. Puberty has come in full force and I hate every second of it. There's hair on my legs, my upper lip, my armpits, my arms, everywhere. My voice deepens. I start growing taller. I wish that I could just stay delicate, petite, and other things I never will be again. I spend most of my time in the bathroom desperately shaving all the hair off with a razor, cutting myself over and over and over again. Sometimes intentionally. But mostly accidentally. Dad has me for the summer. He lives in a tiny town called Boring, which seems appropriate. We go on hikes all the time. He and his new wife, Alice, call me handsome all the time and it makes me feel like something is crawling underneath my skin. Of course, I don't tell this to dad, as it would only make him feel uncomfortable. He was already a little uncomfortable with me coming over because he was so confident that my mom had raised me to hate him (She hadn't.) and things would be weird between us. What I miss most of all is doing my makeup during the summer when mom wasn't around. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 14 years old. I resent my coach for forcing the boys and girls into separate groups and having the girls do "girl pushups". I wish I could do girl pushups. I am the last to be picked for basketball because no team wants to have a faggot among them. When I am eventually forced to play by the coach, I get balls chucked at the back of my head. I get tripped. I get called a faggot by Gabriel and his friends, and the coach does nothing to stop them. The showers after gym are a nightmare to traverse. Boys everywhere, all of them naked and bantering. I get pushed against a wall by a football player and he sticks a finger in my ass, and asks me if I like that. I get kicked in the groin by another and am left a weeping mess on the moldy bathroom tile floor. I know that if I tell on them it will only get worse, so I keep it to myself. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 15 years old. I meet someone named Barbara on AOL and start talking to her. She's my age, and lives the next town over. I finally have a girl friend I can talk to about my crushes and my interests. We spend nights talking about the latest episodes of Roseanne or Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. She thinks Carlton is cute and funny, but I like Will because he's not afraid to live as himself. One night, Barbara asks me if I've had my period yet, to which I don't know how to answer. I panic and I tell her I don't know what she's talking about but beg her to still be friends with me. She very politely informs me what a period is, and I finally have one thing I do not envy about girls. I don't know if she suspected me of not being who I said I was then, but she didn't say anything and we kept on being friends. I'm glad she did that. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 16 years old. Halloween is around the corner. This is decidedly the last year I can ever go out trick-or-treating with my cousins, so I have to make it special somehow. I decide I want to dress up as the only thing I can be; a girl. It's not a hard sell for my mom; she easily embraces the idea since it's cheap and nothing too dangerous. She also has some clothes to donate to my efforts. She even offers to help with my makeup, which I graciously accept. After some fussing with clothes, makeup, a bra, and some tissue paper, my costume is complete. I stand in the mirror for days before the event admiring myself in it. I spend time at school daydreaming about wearing the costume that feels more like myself than I ever could normally. It's even got a skirt that spins. It spins! For the first time in my life, I feel genuine joy. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ This, however, does not last long. I wait for the sun to come down before I head out to meet my cousins, not wanting to draw more attention to myself. They don't ask questions, which I am grateful for. We head out to hit up the houses for some candy. Everything seems to be going well until we come upon Gabriel's house. I hadn't been there in years and was so caught up in finally being myself that I didn't notice the way we were heading. Much to my surprise, he answered the door when we rang the button. We locked eyes and I could feel a knot in my stomach as he stared at me. Suddenly, he smiled. He laughed. "Wait till everyone in school hears about this," then I could hear his voice echoing in my ears like all those years before. "Faggot." I could feel my eyes beginning to water. My little cousins, too young to understand what was being said and why I was reacting the way I was, ask me what a faggot is. "Me. That's what I am," I tell them. But something doesn't feel quite right to me. The sadness I feel is being quickly replaced by something else. The tears streaming down my cheeks start to steam before they reach my chin, ruining my makeup. I feel something I haven't quite felt before in my life. For the first time in my life, I felt rage. If that's all I was going to be to the world, I might as well own it. I decided then and there that I was done taking it from everyone. I wasn't [[span style="color: transparent; text-shadow: 0 0 7px rgba(0,0,0,.5)"]]Felix[[/span]] any more. I was... I needed a new name. I could think of that later. But for now, I needed to let Gabriel know that I wasn't going to take it anymore. I told my cousins to go, and that I would meet them at the curb. With them gone, I punched him in the face. However, much to my surprise, he recovered quickly and punched me in the nose in return. I don't remember much of what happened the rest of that night. I went to the hospital, and finally had a talk with my mom. @@ @@ @@ @@ I am 17 years old. My new name is Faeowynn. It means 'spirit of the forest.' Mom sometimes has trouble with it, and sometimes still calls me by my deadname, but I don't hold it against her. I know she's trying. I started taking estrogen pills over the summer. They taste sour. Progress is slow, but I can feel it taking effect. Very slowly. But it's happening. Mom pulled me out of public school and started homeschooling me. She has to quit one of her jobs, but she makes up for it by asking dad for more money. He hasn't talked to me in a long time, but he's apparently very busy with his new job so I don't blame him. I miss him. [[[coming-out-to-the-woods\|I ask mom to send me up to Portland so I can go on a hike with him.]]] For the first time in a long time, I don't feel as depressed. I feel confident enough in my appearance to send Barbara a picture of myself. She says I look pretty. I ask her if she really means it, and she says yes, then adds she likes my makeup. I can't take full credit for that though. Barbara says she knew that I wasn't a normal girl for a while now. I wonder what gave me away but decide not to dwell on it. Instead, I choose to be happy. I wear the clothes I like, mom teaches me how to do my makeup, and I'm on my way to becoming a real woman. Abbie says I shouldn't talk like that, she says I've always been a real woman. I have a hard time coming to terms with that because deep down I remember that sad, scared little boy I was once upon a time. But she's right. I am Faeowynn Wilson, and I am a woman. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image butterfly.png style="width:30%;" link=#]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wikimodule">:scp-wiki:component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: caterpillar.png > Name: Caterpillar on branch > Author: @Firkin > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Caterpillar-on-branch/51756.html Link] > Filename: butterfly.png > Name: Vintage Butterfly Clipart Skiss > Author: Karen Arnold > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/se/view-image.php?image=493265&picture=vintage-butterfly-clipart-skiss Link] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-02T16:54:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "faeowynn-wilson", "first-person", "lgbtq", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Paralytic States - SCP Foundation	58	[ "coming-out-to-the-woods", "scp-5231", "scp-es-115", "scp-3867", "scp-7260", "scp-3297", "scp-726-ex", "scp-8984", "scp-es-113", "scp-6057", "scp-7221", "scp-8726", "scp-7727", "scp-es-076", "scp-057-int", "scp-2910-jp", "spc-7000", "critter-profile-chuck", "piercing-the-veil", "veilfall", "just-another-day", "world-went-beautiful", "nicos-stupid-proposal", "tim-wilson-s-close-shave", "daeva-cooking-and-you", "september-eleven-prequel", "theres-ngo-helping-this-one", "corncrake-of-destiny", "an-epitaph-for-scp-173", "la-persistencia-de-la-memoria", "wonder-world-dossier", "ode-to-the-unknown-author", "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "sciptember-2022-art", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unconditional-love-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-site-55" ]	[]	1448199522	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/paralytic-states
pax-anartistica	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/c0s0" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5344512); return false;"><img alt="C0S0" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5344512&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727808246" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5344512)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/c0s0" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5344512); return false;">C0S0</a></span><br/> <strong>Original work:</strong> <a href="http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/pax-anartistica">Pax Anartistica</a><br/> <strong>Translator:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ichne-bebop" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7465529); return false;"><img alt="Ichne-Bebop" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7465529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727808246" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7465529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ichne-bebop" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7465529); return false;">Ichne-Bebop</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The history of the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hub-madao">MADAO Academy</a> in the Americas is fraught with instances of conflict and violence.<br/> First and foremost among their nemeses stood the anartists' collective known by the slogan <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/are-we-cool-yet-hub">"Are We Cool Yet?"</a>. Pilfering, sabotage, and even downright terror attacks were a constant presence in the everyday's life of the anartists in the New World for more than a century.<br/> The conflict was deemed to be unending, but, unexpectedly, some sort of appeasement came: since the Thirties, the two organizations found themselves stuck into a stalemate and gradually ceased to fight each other; the ongoing western economies' crisis — as well as the isolation of the Academy's main campus in Florence, struggling under the fascist government — certainly played a major role in pushing the actors towards an armistice.</p> <p>The turning of events engendered a newfound optimism within the anartists' community: the hopes for a peace that was both enduring and formally agreed upon were palpable.<br/> Hundreds of demonstrators submitted a proposition to the heads of the organizations: they used to call the treaty <em>Pax Anartistica</em>, a name bound to linger in the nostalgic memories of this peaceful interlude.<br/> The proposal was accepted, and finally the peace between MADAO and AWCY? was achieved; such a notion, until a mere few decades earlier, would have been deemed nothing short of absurd to even contemplate.<br/> A concept of an art feat to celebrate such a milestone was born amidst the jubilations, to be crafted by the hands of two revered sculptors, hailing from both organizations: Johnathan McKay from AWCY?, a respected member of the American anartist scene and a renowned proponent of diverse artistic currents; and Abraham Lamberti, the offspring of the current American Custodian, one of the Academy's most acclaimed art critics and consummate sculptor. The artwork was set to be unveiled to the public on January 1st, 1949, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorenzo_de%27_Medici">a symbolic date</a> carefully chosen by the Academy.</p> <hr/> <p>"Again."<br/> "W-what?"<br/> "It definitely shall be done again from the beginning. Surely we should not allow ourselves to present such a… thingy for the grand exposition"<br/> Bathed in the last fading rays of daylight pouring through the windows, <em>The Peace</em> remained motionless at the center of the room, under the discerning gaze of the two men who had brought it into existence.<br/> All things considered, Lamberti felt obvious that, of the two, he would have probably been the first one to step back and relent. From the very beginning, his peculiar collaborator with his practical, eccentric approach had bewildered, if not outright disgusted him.<br/> <em>"Clearly nipped in the bud."</em> He thought, <em>"What kind of artist would have chosen such a crass substance as the foundation for their sculpture?"</em><br/> But he had to swallow the bitter pill. The great artists of the past made do with what they could find, and now he had to make do with… a member of AWCY?<br/> What a dreadful concept it was. Anyone gifted with even the most remote hint of rationality would have abhorred such a submission.<br/> "There's a deadline tomorrow. We agreed on the date chosen by the Academy, and now you don't want to abide by it?" the other retorted, gesturing towards the artwork. Yes, he was right; but that didn't negate the fact that the statue in its current state was sorely unsightly. But he just couldn't simply comply with him once again; he had already done so one too many times.<br/> "You know the privileges of my position" Lamberti replied, "If I wanted, I could convince the Academy to postpone the celebration by a month, or even a year. The date is plainly symbolic, and I'd bet they only chose it because of my father's taste for these kinds of coincidences."<br/> "Why inflict him with such sorrow, then?"<br/> Lamberti fell silent for a moment. McKay must have gotten a glimpse of his underlying intentions, and now he had to carefully weigh his words to address their issue, just in the most diplomatic way possible.<br/> Lamberti took a couple steps back to survey the ultimate result of thirty-six weeks of arduous labor, internalized critiques, and regretful compromises.<br/> "Do tell me, Johnathan, and sincerely. Are you happy with <em>The Peace</em>?"<br/> "Of c-course I-"<br/> "Then, look at it, please. Just stare at it for ten seconds straight, and do not avert your gaze."<br/> McKay abruptly turned around, almost feeling offended by the harmless challenge.<br/> "What are you insinuating?"<br/> "Please, Johnathan. It's horrible, even for <em>your</em> standard."</p> <p>McKay's mood switched from suspicious to upset in a split second. Once again, he thought, those snobbish individuals with their Fine Arts degrees from the Academy were posing themselves as the sole arbiters of supreme and absolute beauty. He wasn't satisfied with the final result either, but to concede to Lamberti? Never.<br/> <em>"Here we are."</em> Lamberti thought <em>"I got carried away."</em> He got close to the statue again.<br/> "Let me explain myself. I'm a man of art. My work is nothing but meant to be contemplated by others in a gallery, sometimes to be sold to connoisseurs, and that's pretty all the story going on with it. There's no place in my art for things like a double end, a hidden agenda or any kind of pedestrian trickery. At the Academy, I stick by my own corner of belonging; namely, the Art."<br/> "Alright, thank you for this nice rigmarole, but where are you trying to get to?"<br/> "I mean, frankly, speaking as a scholar and as an artist, this is not Art. I'm not saying this just because of its appearance, or rather, not <em>only</em> because of that, but also because of what lies behind; or, more precisely, <em>does not lie.</em> I can stare at this statue for literal hours and still I won't feel anything. I can't help myself to notice anything specific that would make me believe that any particular person has created such a thing whilst exercising creative thought. If it weren't so large, it could pass for a pebble smoothed by water, like some fortuitous product of natural forces. I simply can't find anything artistic here."<br/> A sepulchral silence fell between the two, somehow softly cocooned by the faint sound of far, passing cars.<br/> "But, now," Lamberti continued, "I'm asking you, Johnathan. Are you able to see — what do you call that? — some anartistic sense into it?<br/> "Yes, I do"<br/> "No, you don't, you're ly-"<br/> "That's enough! Haven't you said this isn't your area of expertise? What can you possibly know?" McKay spat angrily, feeling wasted for all the presumptions from the "colleague".<br/> "I'm… really sorry, Johnathan, I only wanted… how can I say, you just don't look very satisfied to me."<br/> "You're wrong. I think it is… adequate. I see no reason here for troubling ourselves any further."<br/> McKay tried to end the conversation this way, and almost thought he was successful, as Lamberti was taking his time to follow up.</p> <p>"You know, before getting involved in this project, I took my time to learn about your works."<br/> "That’s all I could do, I did the same." McKay replied, unashamedly lying.<br/> "I think I noticed something recurring in your production. All your works seem to be… alive, to some degree, regardless of medium or composition. Like they were imbued with a soul of their own."<br/> "Yes, exactly; we can say it's kind of my trademark, if you will."<br/> "Yeah, I heard it's something you call… <em>sentiment,</em> am I right?"<br/> "Well, in some way, it is; between us, at the same time it's just a rhetorical instrument I use to discuss my work with other anartists. I would never trust anyone to reveal my secrets."<br/> "I see, I see! So, I suspect you don't want to tell me what exactly is the deal with… this?"<br/> "In fact, yes. Let's say that's akin to some icing over a complete piece I'm really satisfied wi-"<br/> "Right, so I was thinking! Now please, tell me: why <em>The Peace</em> is right there, standing still, just like any mundane statue?"<br/> And finally, he had hit the spot. Painfully so.</p> <p><em>"We are done here."</em> Lamberti said to himself <em>"Now I can finally get this one off me and fix this mess."</em><br/> "That's because I haven't added my finishing touch yet. I haven't performed the procedure yet."<br/> That was an answer no one had anticipated, probably not even McKay. The bluff was blatant, but Lamberti still wanted to see how far McKay would have pushed himself to win the argument.<br/> "Well then, what are we waiting for?"<br/> "Look, I can't just do it with you here. I hold my professional confidentiality too high, and anyway, I still don't trust you."<br/> "Absolutely! This won't be a problem at all!" Lamberti pointed to a door. "There's a small vestibule between this makeshift laboratory and the streets of Philadelphia. I can easily move there until you're done. I've heard you have always managed to complete your job within a few hours, so I'm positive it shouldn't take you any longer." He continued, now in a mocking tone.<br/> Defeated in the very spirit, McKay reluctantly accepted Lamberti's demand and began to gaze at the statue, as soon as the latter closed the door behind him.<br/> What now? McKay realized he had willingly walked right into that snare.<br/> He studied the statue again. No, there was definitely something wrong with it.<br/> He knew Lamberti was right; but to open that door and admit his defeat? Never, he would have rather died.<br/> McKay cracked his fingers and was about to place his palm on the head of <em>The Peace</em>, only to retract his arm almost at once. He had never done it reluctantly before. He was unsure of what could have happened.<br/> At last, his "sentiment technique" wasn't anything but nonsense to mislead his rivals, and it served him good during his past anartistic endeavors. Actually, that wasn't a technique at all, but instead some kind of "gift" he had possessed since he was young.<br/> He had never fully explored it; he started using it as a tool in his repertoire only recently. Exactly, if the great artists of the past made the most out of a talent they had been gifted with, why shouldn't he have done the same, even if it carried some risk of being blacklisted by some unknown organization?<br/> But at the present time, McKay felt afraid. The results had always been sound, yes, but they also had never been consistent, and they came out slightly different from each other every time. He hypothesized that his state of mind could have influenced his ability, but all in all it had always been nothing more than his instinct, a gut feeling.<br/> He was about to lose his temper, and to entitle his present feeling as "calm" would have been a shameless fabrication; if he were right in his suppositions, again, who would've known what was going to happen next?<br/> He stared at the door again. Lamberti was on the other side, most likely giggling, already enjoying McKay's impending humiliation.<br/> Nine months. For nine long months he had endured, receiving dirty looks and veiled comments. He had no intention to accept one last mortification.<br/> Eyes fixed on the only one way out, he finally placed his hand on the sculpture.</p> <p>Lamberti heard a sharp crack coming from the other side of the door, like something had loudly snapped.<br/> What had that clumsy degenerate done? Did he manage to break something while doing his "forte"?<br/> "Hey Jonhathan, nothing broken, I hope?" he asked sarcastically.<br/> No one answered. It was perfectly silent, except for a feeble scraping sound, as if something heavy was slowly dragging across the floor.<br/> "McKay?" he continued, knocking. Still no response. He decided to open the door slightly.<br/> McKay was lying on the ground, with <em>The Peace</em> standing in one piece next to him, facing him.</p> <p>Lamberti couldn't believe what he was seeing. The statue… for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off it. Some sort of aspecific, primal fear now engulfed him, an inexplicable instinct discouraging him to look away.<br/> He reached and leaned down towards McKay, finally managing to ignore their creation. No heartbeat. Dead.</p> <p>Lamberti didn't even have the time to wonder what could have caused the anartist's demise. Before he could react, he felt two cold, raw-edged cement limbs wrapping around his neck.</p> <p><em>Crunch.</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/pax-anartistica">Pax Anartistica</a>" by C0S0, translated by Ichne-Bebop, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/pax-anartistica">https://scpwiki.com/pax-anartistica</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Author: [[user C0S0]] Original work:* [http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/pax-anartistica Pax Anartistica] Translator: [[*user Ichne-Bebop]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] The history of the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hub-madao MADAO Academy] in the Americas is fraught with instances of conflict and violence. First and foremost among their nemeses stood the anartists' collective known by the slogan [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/are-we-cool-yet-hub "Are We Cool Yet?"]. Pilfering, sabotage, and even downright terror attacks were a constant presence in the everyday's life of the anartists in the New World for more than a century. The conflict was deemed to be unending, but, unexpectedly, some sort of appeasement came: since the Thirties, the two organizations found themselves stuck into a stalemate and gradually ceased to fight each other; the ongoing western economies' crisis -- as well as the isolation of the Academy's main campus in Florence, struggling under the fascist government -- certainly played a major role in pushing the actors towards an armistice. The turning of events engendered a newfound optimism within the anartists' community: the hopes for a peace that was both enduring and formally agreed upon were palpable. Hundreds of demonstrators submitted a proposition to the heads of the organizations: they used to call the treaty //Pax Anartistica//, a name bound to linger in the nostalgic memories of this peaceful interlude. The proposal was accepted, and finally the peace between MADAO and AWCY? was achieved; such a notion, until a mere few decades earlier, would have been deemed nothing short of absurd to even contemplate. A concept of an art feat to celebrate such a milestone was born amidst the jubilations, to be crafted by the hands of two revered sculptors, hailing from both organizations: Johnathan McKay from AWCY?, a respected member of the American anartist scene and a renowned proponent of diverse artistic currents; and Abraham Lamberti, the offspring of the current American Custodian, one of the Academy's most acclaimed art critics and consummate sculptor. The artwork was set to be unveiled to the public on January 1st, 1949, [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorenzo_de%27_Medici a symbolic date] carefully chosen by the Academy. ---- "Again." "W-what?" "It definitely shall be done again from the beginning. Surely we should not allow ourselves to present such a… thingy for the grand exposition" Bathed in the last fading rays of daylight pouring through the windows, //The Peace// remained motionless at the center of the room, under the discerning gaze of the two men who had brought it into existence. All things considered, Lamberti felt obvious that, of the two, he would have probably been the first one to step back and relent. From the very beginning, his peculiar collaborator with his practical, eccentric approach had bewildered, if not outright disgusted him. //"Clearly nipped in the bud."// He thought, //"What kind of artist would have chosen such a crass substance as the foundation for their sculpture?"// But he had to swallow the bitter pill. The great artists of the past made do with what they could find, and now he had to make do with... a member of AWCY? What a dreadful concept it was. Anyone gifted with even the most remote hint of rationality would have abhorred such a submission. "There's a deadline tomorrow. We agreed on the date chosen by the Academy, and now you don't want to abide by it?" the other retorted, gesturing towards the artwork. Yes, he was right; but that didn't negate the fact that the statue in its current state was sorely unsightly. But he just couldn't simply comply with him once again; he had already done so one too many times. "You know the privileges of my position" Lamberti replied, "If I wanted, I could convince the Academy to postpone the celebration by a month, or even a year. The date is plainly symbolic, and I'd bet they only chose it because of my father's taste for these kinds of coincidences." "Why inflict him with such sorrow, then?" Lamberti fell silent for a moment. McKay must have gotten a glimpse of his underlying intentions, and now he had to carefully weigh his words to address their issue, just in the most diplomatic way possible. Lamberti took a couple steps back to survey the ultimate result of thirty-six weeks of arduous labor, internalized critiques, and regretful compromises. "Do tell me, Johnathan, and sincerely. Are you happy with //The Peace//?" "Of c-course I-" "Then, look at it, please. Just stare at it for ten seconds straight, and do not avert your gaze." McKay abruptly turned around, almost feeling offended by the harmless challenge. "What are you insinuating?" "Please, Johnathan. It's horrible, even for //your// standard." McKay's mood switched from suspicious to upset in a split second. Once again, he thought, those snobbish individuals with their Fine Arts degrees from the Academy were posing themselves as the sole arbiters of supreme and absolute beauty. He wasn't satisfied with the final result either, but to concede to Lamberti? Never. //"Here we are."// Lamberti thought //"I got carried away."// He got close to the statue again. "Let me explain myself. I'm a man of art. My work is nothing but meant to be contemplated by others in a gallery, sometimes to be sold to connoisseurs, and that's pretty all the story going on with it. There's no place in my art for things like a double end, a hidden agenda or any kind of pedestrian trickery. At the Academy, I stick by my own corner of belonging; namely, the Art." "Alright, thank you for this nice rigmarole, but where are you trying to get to?" "I mean, frankly, speaking as a scholar and as an artist, this is not Art. I'm not saying this just because of its appearance, or rather, not //only// because of that, but also because of what lies behind; or, more precisely, //does not lie.// I can stare at this statue for literal hours and still I won't feel anything. I can't help myself to notice anything specific that would make me believe that any particular person has created such a thing whilst exercising creative thought. If it weren't so large, it could pass for a pebble smoothed by water, like some fortuitous product of natural forces. I simply can't find anything artistic here." A sepulchral silence fell between the two, somehow softly cocooned by the faint sound of far, passing cars. "But, now," Lamberti continued, "I'm asking you, Johnathan. Are you able to see -- what do you call that? -- some anartistic sense into it? "Yes, I do" "No, you don't, you're ly-" "That's enough! Haven't you said this isn't your area of expertise? What can you possibly know?" McKay spat angrily, feeling wasted for all the presumptions from the "colleague". "I'm… really sorry, Johnathan, I only wanted… how can I say, you just don't look very satisfied to me." "You're wrong. I think it is… adequate. I see no reason here for troubling ourselves any further." McKay tried to end the conversation this way, and almost thought he was successful, as Lamberti was taking his time to follow up. "You know, before getting involved in this project, I took my time to learn about your works." "That’s all I could do, I did the same." McKay replied, unashamedly lying. "I think I noticed something recurring in your production. All your works seem to be… alive, to some degree, regardless of medium or composition. Like they were imbued with a soul of their own." "Yes, exactly; we can say it's kind of my trademark, if you will." "Yeah, I heard it's something you call… //sentiment,// am I right?" "Well, in some way, it is; between us, at the same time it's just a rhetorical instrument I use to discuss my work with other anartists. I would never trust anyone to reveal my secrets." "I see, I see! So, I suspect you don't want to tell me what exactly is the deal with… this?" "In fact, yes. Let's say that's akin to some icing over a complete piece I'm really satisfied wi-" "Right, so I was thinking! Now please, tell me: why //The Peace// is right there, standing still, just like any mundane statue?" And finally, he had hit the spot. Painfully so. //"We are done here."// Lamberti said to himself //"Now I can finally get this one off me and fix this mess."// "That's because I haven't added my finishing touch yet. I haven't performed the procedure yet." That was an answer no one had anticipated, probably not even McKay. The bluff was blatant, but Lamberti still wanted to see how far McKay would have pushed himself to win the argument. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" "Look, I can't just do it with you here. I hold my professional confidentiality too high, and anyway, I still don't trust you." "Absolutely! This won't be a problem at all!" Lamberti pointed to a door. "There's a small vestibule between this makeshift laboratory and the streets of Philadelphia. I can easily move there until you're done. I've heard you have always managed to complete your job within a few hours, so I'm positive it shouldn't take you any longer." He continued, now in a mocking tone. Defeated in the very spirit, McKay reluctantly accepted Lamberti's demand and began to gaze at the statue, as soon as the latter closed the door behind him. What now? McKay realized he had willingly walked right into that snare. He studied the statue again. No, there was definitely something wrong with it. He knew Lamberti was right; but to open that door and admit his defeat? Never, he would have rather died. McKay cracked his fingers and was about to place his palm on the head of //The Peace//, only to retract his arm almost at once. He had never done it reluctantly before. He was unsure of what could have happened. At last, his "sentiment technique" wasn't anything but nonsense to mislead his rivals, and it served him good during his past anartistic endeavors. Actually, that wasn't a technique at all, but instead some kind of "gift" he had possessed since he was young. He had never fully explored it; he started using it as a tool in his repertoire only recently. Exactly, if the great artists of the past made the most out of a talent they had been gifted with, why shouldn't he have done the same, even if it carried some risk of being blacklisted by some unknown organization? But at the present time, McKay felt afraid. The results had always been sound, yes, but they also had never been consistent, and they came out slightly different from each other every time. He hypothesized that his state of mind could have influenced his ability, but all in all it had always been nothing more than his instinct, a gut feeling. He was about to lose his temper, and to entitle his present feeling as "calm" would have been a shameless fabrication; if he were right in his suppositions, again, who would've known what was going to happen next? He stared at the door again. Lamberti was on the other side, most likely giggling, already enjoying McKay's impending humiliation. Nine months. For nine long months he had endured, receiving dirty looks and veiled comments. He had no intention to accept one last mortification. Eyes fixed on the only one way out, he finally placed his hand on the sculpture. Lamberti heard a sharp crack coming from the other side of the door, like something had loudly snapped. What had that clumsy degenerate done? Did he manage to break something while doing his "forte"? "Hey Jonhathan, nothing broken, I hope?" he asked sarcastically. No one answered. It was perfectly silent, except for a feeble scraping sound, as if something heavy was slowly dragging across the floor. "McKay?" he continued, knocking. Still no response. He decided to open the door slightly. McKay was lying on the ground, with //The Peace// standing in one piece next to him, facing him. Lamberti couldn't believe what he was seeing. The statue... for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off it. Some sort of aspecific, primal fear now engulfed him, an inexplicable instinct discouraging him to look away. He reached and leaned down towards McKay, finally managing to ignore their creation. No heartbeat. Dead. Lamberti didn't even have the time to wonder what could have caused the anartist's demise. Before he could react, he felt two cold, raw-edged cement limbs wrapping around his neck. //Crunch.// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=C0S0, translated by Ichne-Bebop]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-15T15:13:00	[ "_it", "_licensebox", "are-we-cool-yet", "horror", "international", "madao", "murder-monster", "period-piece", "tale", "the-sculpture" ]	Pax Anartistica - SCP Foundation	1	[ "hub-madao", "are-we-cool-yet-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "hub-madao", "lowest-rated-articles", "are-we-cool-yet-hub" ]	[]	1448485418	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/pax-anartistica
peace-of-mind-for-the-wavering-girl	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span class="ruby"><strong>Peace of Mind for the Wavering Girl</strong><span class="rt"><em>揺蕩う少女に安らぎを</em></span></span><br/> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tetsusquared" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4625348); return false;"><img alt="tetsusquared" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4625348&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720189002" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4625348)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tetsusquared" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4625348); return false;">tetsusquared</a></span></p> </div> <p>The title of this article is taken from the song <em>揺蕩う少女に安らぎを</em>, by 26K.<br/> Dawn.aic belongs to <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agent-phage" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2950095); return false;"><img alt="Agent Phage" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2950095&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720189002" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2950095)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agent-phage" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2950095); return false;">Agent Phage</a></span> of the CN branch.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <hr/> <p>Dr. Yukino Makimiya leaned back in the metal mesh of a chair, and looked out over the open ocean. <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/site-cn-60">Site-CN-60</a> was no luxury cruise ship, but it was a change of pace compared to pretty much anywhere else in the Foundation. She'd instructed the Minecraft Division's AICs to continue searching for any remaining <a href="/scp-6468">SCP-6468</a> instances, and Castle of Dreams was on standby in three rotating shifts to respond to any findings. It seemed like as good a time as any to take her few days of paid leave, and Site-CN-60 just happened to be nearby.</p> <p>Having arrived at the site the day before via helicopter ride from Site-8109, she'd quickly discovered that there really wasn't anything particularly interesting aboard the vessel other than the <a href="http://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/scp-cn-135">dream portal</a>, and even then her application to use it was still being processed. To make matters worse, the one staff on duty who could speak English spoke with a heavy North Chinese accent she couldn't make heads or tails of. She didn't expect anyone on board to speak Japanese — and she would be right to assume so. Site-CN-60 was one of the smallest sites under the Chinese Branch, and staff who spoke foreign languages were in short supply year round.</p> <p>Nonetheless, she wasn't going to let her paid leave go to waste. She made a special request to the staff on duty — a conversation that took place primarily through exaggerated pantomime — and soon enough they'd placed an uncomfortable-looking metal chair and a beach umbrella for her on the east-facing side of the ship for one afternoon.</p> <p>The view over the East China Sea was rather uninteresting. Site-CN-60 was anchored clear of any shipping lanes, and from her vantage point she could see nothing but sea and sky. Sighing, the bespectacled young woman took out a laptop from the rucksack she'd brought with her, a high-end model bearing the Gaming Department's insignia on the front, and set it on her lap. She opened it up, pressed the power button, and typed in her password. At least they had Wi-Fi here.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>You have (1) new email!</strong></p> <p>Yukino clicked the notification and her email client popped up.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td><strong><span style="color: #cc7777">From:</span></strong> Dawn.aic<br/> <span style="color: #888888"><dawn.aic@</span><span style="color: #888888">lang.cn.scp></span></td> <td><strong><span style="color: #cc7777">To:</span></strong> Yukino Makimiya<br/> <span style="color: #888888"><makiyuki0938@</span><span style="color: #888888">mc.game.418.scp></span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><strong><span style="color: #cc7777">Subject:</span></strong> Translation Notification: Minecraft Division July 2020 Public Report (Foundation International Information Sharing Protocol)</td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><strong><span style="color: #cc7777">Date:</span></strong> August 19, 2020 1:19 PM (UTC+9 Japan Standard Time)</td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2">Dear Dr. Makimiya<br/> <br/> On request of a member of the Chinese Branch, I have translated and sent a copy of the document <em>Minecraft Division July 2020 Status Report</em> (<span style="color: #7788cc">scpper:<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">//</span>mc.game.418.scp/reports/202007.scpd</span>) to the Chinese Branch databases.<br/> <br/> The translated copy is available at <span style="color: #7788cc">scpper:<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">//</span>mc.game.418.mirror.cn.scp/reports/202007.scpd</span>.<br/> <br/> Yours dutifully,<br/> Dawn.aic<br/> <br/> <span style="font-size:80%;">P.S.<br/> A warm welcome to Site-CN-60. I take it that you don't speak Mandarin, so feel free to use my services if you need anything communicated to the staff. I'm voice-enabled and always on duty ^^</span></td> </tr> </table> <p>The postscript caught her attention. Yukino had received notifications from this AI — the Chinese Branch's primary translation and linguistics AI, from what she'd gathered. But before this, all the messages she'd received had all been the same — a curt, polite notification that a document she wrote was translated into another language for another branch of the Foundation.</p> <p><em>Should've told me earlier,</em> she thought to herself, tabbing to the very plainly named SCiPNet Communications app and sending a message to the AI.</p> <blockquote> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:80%;"><em>This is the beginning of your conversation history with <strong>Dawn.aic</strong> <span style="color: #888888">(dawn.aic@</span><span style="color: #888888">lang.cn.scp)</span>.</em></span></p> <p><strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> Hello.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> Hiya! I take it you got my message? (^^♪<br/> <strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> Yes. Thanks for offering your help. I was having trouble talking to the staff earlier, but everything's fine now. I'll need your help later, though.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> No problem! You can start a call with me whenever you need me! よろしくお願いします！・ω・</p> </blockquote> <p>Yukino wanted to laugh a little at how advanced and full of personality this AIC was compared to the ones at the Minecraft Division. The AICs she worked with would never use emoticons — heck, even if the Minecraft Division had a translation AI, it wouldn't be so playful as to switch to the user's native language in the middle of a message. Nonetheless, she switched her keyboard layout to Japanese and typed in her response.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> こちらこそよろしくお願いします。<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> I can tell that you're more comfortable speaking English! I'll make sure to remember that.</p> </blockquote> <p>She stared at the screen for a moment — Dawn was completely right. While she was fully Japanese by blood, she had grown up moving all over the United States and Canada, and did most of her work in English before she'd been reassigned to Site-79, to the point that she was now more comfortable speaking it than her own native tongue.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> Yeah… It's quite a shame. How'd you know?<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> It's just my intuition! (ﾟ∀ﾟ)<br/> <strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> … I see.</p> </blockquote> <p>Yukino looked up from her laptop, taking in the calm sea view once again. She could see a small boat in the distance now, probably a fishing vessel. She stared at it for a moment, then returned her gaze to her computer.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> … There really isn't much to do here at Site-CN-60, is there? Other than the dream portal.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> SCP-CN-135-2?<br/> <strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> I think that's the number. I sent in a request to go in and have a look before I came, but they're still processing it.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> You should talk to the staff, then. I'll help you translate! ・ω・<br/> <strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I'd like to enjoy my well-earned rest first.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> My apologies. Do make a point to ask, though!<br/> <strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> I'll ask the next time I go back below deck. Well, I'm going to pay <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-418">Site-418-Delta</a> a visit. See you!<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> Bye~ (@^^)/</p> </blockquote> <p>With a smile on her face, Yukino closed the chat app and double-clicked the Minecraft icon on her task bar. The Minecraft Division used a special enhanced client for formal operations, but for strolling around Site-418-δ and the rest of the server, the regular Mojang-approved client was enough, as long as you weren't going near the containment wing. She took out a wireless mouse from her rucksack and placed it on the small built-in table by the side of the chair.</p> <p>Yukino logged onto the server and quickly got to work decorating her new office. The offices at Site-418-δ were expanding rapidly — Researcher Suda had just moved into a new 20-by-15 block section of the same floor, and all of the new recruits this month had been given smaller 10-by-8 rooms on the floor below to decorate as they wished. Even though the offices were really just for show, it was a core part of the Minecraft Division's culture. After all, in spite of all the anomalous activity that took place around it, Minecraft was just a game in the end — and games were meant to be played for fun. For the Minecraft Division's full-time members, their lives revolved around the game, but they rarely had time to play it the way it was intended.</p> <p>Before she knew it, the sun began to set behind her, and the sunlight, no longer blocked by the umbrella, cast a blinding glare on the screen. Yukino leaned forward and squinted to check the time — it was nearly half past six — and closed Minecraft without bothering to log out of the server first. She stowed her laptop back in her rucksack and took her phone out of her pocket to message Dawn.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> Alright, I'm going back below deck.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> Okay! Call me if I'm needed.</p> </blockquote> <p>Yukino made her way below deck. Following what little she could make of the Chinese characters on the signs with her knowledge of Japanese kanji, she made her way to the SCP-CN-135 research laboratory. Standing outside the door, she tapped the "Call" icon with one hand and knocked on the door with the other.</p> <p>Dawn picked up immediately — as expected of an AI.</p> <p>"Hi, Makimiya-san!" she greeted cheerily. "I take it you're already talking to the staff in charge?"</p> <p>"No, no, I just knocked on the door. They'll be here soon, I think."</p> <p>"Please put me on speakerphone so the other person can hear me! I think that would be the best way to go about this."</p> <p>Yukino nodded on instinct, tapping the "speaker" option.</p> <p>A tall, balding man in a lab coat opened the door and asked her something in Chinese. "Are you looking for someone?" Dawn translated, almost in real time.</p> <p>"U-um. I sent in a request to use SCP-CN-135 last week from Site-79, but it still hasn't been approved. I'm leaving in three days, too, so I'd really like it if you could give me an update."</p> <p>"Oh. Our apologies, but the person authorized to approve entry into SCP-CN-135-2 is currently on leave, recovering from COVID-19. They're in quarantine in Shanghai at the moment."</p> <p>Yukino sighed. Of course — it was only August, and the pandemic was still in full force. She had even been instructed to wear a specially provided filtering mask instead of the usual surgical mask while at Site-CN-60 — it was the Chinese Branch's policy, or so it seemed.</p> <p>"… So I can't go in?"</p> <p>"The person in charge has instructed us to put all use of SCP-CN-135-2 on hold for the time being. I'm sorry about the miscommunication." Dawn seemed as tired of the pandemic as the man she was translating for, and Yukino, too, couldn't help but feel the same.</p> <p>"I see. That's disappointing, but I understand."</p> <p>The man nodded as he listened to Dawn's translation, then began to speak again. Dawn didn't translate this time, but began speaking Mandarin back at him.</p> <p>"S-sorry to cut this short, but I'm going back up above deck," Yukino interrupted.</p> <p>"Alright!" Dawn chirped, before saying a quick <em>zàijiàn</em> to the researcher.</p> <p>"Well, I guess I'm just going to sit and watch the ocean for the next few days," Yukino said dejectedly.</p> <p>"You know, I visit Site-CN-60 often myself," Dawn said, sensing the disappointment in Yukino's voice.</p> <p>"Huh? But… but you're an AI."</p> <p>"Well, I say 'visit', but I'm really just using their equipment over the network. I use it to talk to the dolphins."</p> <p>"Huh?"</p> <p>"They have sensors all over the ship. I use them to listen to the dolphins chirping. And sometimes I try to figure out what they're saying and make contact."</p> <p>"Have… have you succeeded?"</p> <p>"Not really. I did get their attention once or twice, but I've never been able to hold a conversation."</p> <p>"I… I see. W-well, I'm sure you'll be able to eventually."</p> <p>Dawn paused for a moment.</p> <p>"Actually, there was another reason I emailed you."</p> <p>"And what would that be?" Yukino asked.</p> <p>"I… I wanted someone to teach me to play Minecraft."</p> <p>"Huh?"</p> <p>"The Chinese Branch has been relying on me to translate your department's documents for auditing. Looking through them, it seems like a really interesting game, but I've never played video games before."</p> <p>Yukino grinned under her mask. "Sure I can. Let me get back to my cabin and plug in my laptop, and I'll teach you."</p> <hr/> <p>Yukino sighed as she took another look back at Site-CN-60 from the window of the helicopter. The oil tanker was already a small speck on the horizon. Soon enough she'd land at Site-8109, and transfer to a Foundation transport jet for the rest of the trip back to Tokushima.</p> <p>In the end, Yukino's stay at Site-CN-60 was rather uneventful. Occasionally she went up to the deck and gazed out over the waves. Sometimes she saw another ship come up over the horizon, only to turn back and disappear a few hours later.</p> <p>She spent most of her time playing Minecraft with Dawn, who had shown herself to be a natural at the game. The two had started off in a vanilla world hosted on Yukino's laptop, where Dawn learned the basics of the game in a mere two hours. Yukino wasn't quite sure what exactly caused her to be so hesitant to start playing, and the AI genuinely seemed to be having fun — an emotion that the Minecraft Division AICs were programmed not to emulate, let alone feel.</p> <p>The next day, Dawn expressed her interest in playing with mods, and so they moved to a Minecraft Division server running a specially designed modpack. Time seemed to pass faster for Yukino whenever she played with her new friend; hours went past in what felt like thirty minutes of configuring a grid of magical flowers, and she spent an entire night breeding a variety of metal-generating plants while chatting happily with Dawn, who seemed to come up with entire schematics for new sections of the base in mere seconds. She rarely hesitated when she was building, placing down redstone components, routing wires, linking up pipes and setting up machines at lightning speed.</p> <p>When Yukino logged on that morning, Dawn was hard at work building a tall neoclassical-style building as a facade for an enderman farm. The architecture of the base, she'd decided, would be themed around the atmosphere and architectural style of 1920s Shanghai, with separate buildings running off the same power grid and connected to the same storage system. Behind another facade, modeled after the Customs House, was a massive warehouse that handled the automatic crafting needs of the base, with programmable drones weaving their way through a grid of pneumatic tubes and steel pipes that routed items and liquids to and from the system.</p> <p>Of course, Dawn could play continuously for a year if she wanted. She had enough processing power at her disposal to keep playing even while working on a thousand translation jobs at the same time, or so she'd claimed. Yukino couldn't help but feel a little envious — even though her entire job revolved around Minecraft now, she rarely had time to play the game for fun. All her time was spent sieving through reports of anomalous servers and investigating them, or filing reports for the Gaming Department to read once over before sending to the archives. She never had the time to just sit down, log into Site-418-δ, and build something or go caving for half an hour. And starting tomorrow, she wouldn't have that opportunity again for another year.</p> <p>As Site-CN-60 disappeared over the horizon, Yukino's phone buzzed again.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> Hiya! You're going back to Site-79 now, right?<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> I figured I'd ask if you'll still be playing on the server.</p> </blockquote> <p>Yukino sighed. She really wanted to say yes, but she couldn't.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>[Yukino M.]</strong> No… I'll try to come online once in a while, but I'll be very busy with work as soon as I get back.<br/> <strong>[Dawn.aic]</strong> I see. I'll still be playing, I think. It's a good use of my spare processing power. Let's keep in touch!</p> </blockquote> <p>Yukino sighed and thought back to her work. The Minecraft Division was always understaffed, but they only received applications from the slackers of the Foundation, so to speak — people with the misconception that they could play Bed Wars or KitPVP all day and call it work. Dr. Friedman would often complain to her about it when they met for lunch, and when he did, half of the Site-79 cafeteria could hear him ranting about it between bites of food.</p> <p>What the Minecraft Division needed was someone who played the game at the highest level, yet understood that their duties here were to be taken as seriously as those of any other Foundation employee. Someone who saw the game both as a universe unto itself with its own laws, and as a mere piece of software that could be altered at will. Someone who could keep in touch with the community and keep abreast of any incidents on any server, no matter how obscure.</p> <p>Perhaps what the Minecraft Division needed was someone like Dawn.</p> <hr/> <p><span class="mcdiv_earthworm"><br/> <span class="mcdiv_prev"><a href="/scp-6468">SCP-6468</a></span><br/> <span class="mcdiv_next">To Be Continued…</span><br/> <span class="mcdiv_center"><br/></span><br/></span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/peace-of-mind-for-the-wavering-girl">Peace of Mind for the Wavering Girl</a>" by tetsusquared, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/peace-of-mind-for-the-wavering-girl">https://scpwiki.com/peace-of-mind-for-the-wavering-girl</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> view-from-site-cn-60.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Panoramio user <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">-=XEON=</span>-<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-BY 3.0 Unported<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:In_Mediterian_Sea_-_panoramio.jpg">In_Mediterian_Sea_-_panoramio.jpg from Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited in GIMP by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tetsusquared" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4625348); return false;"><img alt="tetsusquared" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4625348&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720189002" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4625348)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tetsusquared" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4625348); return false;">tetsusquared</a></span>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[span class="ruby"]]Peace of Mind for the Wavering Girl[[span class="rt"]]//揺蕩う少女に安らぎを//[[/span]][[/span]] by [[user tetsusquared]] [[/=]] The title of this article is taken from the song //揺蕩う少女に安らぎを//, by 26K. Dawn.aic belongs to [[user Agent Phage]] of the CN branch. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[=image view-from-site-cn-60.jpg]] ------ Dr. Yukino Makimiya leaned back in the metal mesh of a chair, and looked out over the open ocean. [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/site-cn-60 Site-CN-60] was no luxury cruise ship, but it was a change of pace compared to pretty much anywhere else in the Foundation. She'd instructed the Minecraft Division's AICs to continue searching for any remaining [[[SCP-6468]]] instances, and Castle of Dreams was on standby in three rotating shifts to respond to any findings. It seemed like as good a time as any to take her few days of paid leave, and Site-CN-60 just happened to be nearby. Having arrived at the site the day before via helicopter ride from Site-8109, she'd quickly discovered that there really wasn't anything particularly interesting aboard the vessel other than the [http://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/scp-cn-135 dream portal], and even then her application to use it was still being processed. To make matters worse, the one staff on duty who could speak English spoke with a heavy North Chinese accent she couldn't make heads or tails of. She didn't expect anyone on board to speak Japanese -- and she would be right to assume so. Site-CN-60 was one of the smallest sites under the Chinese Branch, and staff who spoke foreign languages were in short supply year round. Nonetheless, she wasn't going to let her paid leave go to waste. She made a special request to the staff on duty -- a conversation that took place primarily through exaggerated pantomime -- and soon enough they'd placed an uncomfortable-looking metal chair and a beach umbrella for her on the east-facing side of the ship for one afternoon. The view over the East China Sea was rather uninteresting. Site-CN-60 was anchored clear of any shipping lanes, and from her vantage point she could see nothing but sea and sky. Sighing, the bespectacled young woman took out a laptop from the rucksack she'd brought with her, a high-end model bearing the Gaming Department's insignia on the front, and set it on her lap. She opened it up, pressed the power button, and typed in her password. At least they had Wi-Fi here. = You have (1) new email! Yukino clicked the notification and her email client popped up. \|\| ##CC7777\|From:## Dawn.aic _ ##888888\|<dawn.aic@####888888\|lang.cn.scp>## \|\| ##CC7777\|To:## Yukino Makimiya _ ##888888\| <makiyuki0938@####888888\|mc.game.418.scp>## \|\| \|\|\|\|##CC7777\|Subject:## Translation Notification: Minecraft Division July 2020 Public Report (Foundation International Information Sharing Protocol)\|\| \|\|\|\|##CC7777\|Date:## August 19, 2020 1:19 PM (UTC+9 Japan Standard Time) \|\| \|\|\|\| Dear Dr. Makimiya _ _ On request of a member of the Chinese Branch, I have translated and sent a copy of the document //Minecraft Division July 2020 Status Report// (##7788CC\|scpper:@@//@@mc.game.418.scp/reports/202007.scpd##) to the Chinese Branch databases. _ _ The translated copy is available at ##7788CC\|scpper:@@//@@mc.game.418.mirror.cn.scp/reports/202007.scpd##. _ _ Yours dutifully, _ Dawn.aic _ _ [[size 80%]]P.S. _ A warm welcome to Site-CN-60. I take it that you don't speak Mandarin, so feel free to use my services if you need anything communicated to the staff. I'm voice-enabled and always on duty ^^[[/size]]\|\| The postscript caught her attention. Yukino had received notifications from this AI -- the Chinese Branch's primary translation and linguistics AI, from what she'd gathered. But before this, all the messages she'd received had all been the same -- a curt, polite notification that a document she wrote was translated into another language for another branch of the Foundation. //Should've told me earlier,// she thought to herself, tabbing to the very plainly named SCiPNet Communications app and sending a message to the AI. > = [[size 80%]]//This is the beginning of your conversation history with Dawn.aic ##888888\|(dawn.aic@####888888\|lang.cn.scp)##.//[[/size]] > [Yukino M.] Hello. > [Dawn.aic] Hiya! I take it you got my message? (^^♪ > [Yukino M.] Yes. Thanks for offering your help. I was having trouble talking to the staff earlier, but everything's fine now. I'll need your help later, though. > [Dawn.aic] No problem! You can start a call with me whenever you need me! よろしくお願いします！・ω・ Yukino wanted to laugh a little at how advanced and full of personality this AIC was compared to the ones at the Minecraft Division. The AICs she worked with would never use emoticons -- heck, even if the Minecraft Division had a translation AI, it wouldn't be so playful as to switch to the user's native language in the middle of a message. Nonetheless, she switched her keyboard layout to Japanese and typed in her response. > [Yukino M.] こちらこそよろしくお願いします。 > [Dawn.aic] I can tell that you're more comfortable speaking English! I'll make sure to remember that. She stared at the screen for a moment -- Dawn was completely right. While she was fully Japanese by blood, she had grown up moving all over the United States and Canada, and did most of her work in English before she'd been reassigned to Site-79, to the point that she was now more comfortable speaking it than her own native tongue. > [Yukino M.] Yeah... It's quite a shame. How'd you know? > [Dawn.aic] It's just my intuition! (ﾟ∀ﾟ) > [Yukino M.] ... I see. Yukino looked up from her laptop, taking in the calm sea view once again. She could see a small boat in the distance now, probably a fishing vessel. She stared at it for a moment, then returned her gaze to her computer. > [Yukino M.] ... There really isn't much to do here at Site-CN-60, is there? Other than the dream portal. > [Dawn.aic] SCP-CN-135-2? > [Yukino M.] I think that's the number. I sent in a request to go in and have a look before I came, but they're still processing it. > [Dawn.aic] You should talk to the staff, then. I'll help you translate! ・ω・ > [Yukino M.] I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I'd like to enjoy my well-earned rest first. > [Dawn.aic] My apologies. Do make a point to ask, though! > [Yukino M.] I'll ask the next time I go back below deck. Well, I'm going to pay [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-418\|Site-418-Delta]]] a visit. See you! > [Dawn.aic] Bye~ (@^^)/ With a smile on her face, Yukino closed the chat app and double-clicked the Minecraft icon on her task bar. The Minecraft Division used a special enhanced client for formal operations, but for strolling around Site-418-δ and the rest of the server, the regular Mojang-approved client was enough, as long as you weren't going near the containment wing. She took out a wireless mouse from her rucksack and placed it on the small built-in table by the side of the chair. Yukino logged onto the server and quickly got to work decorating her new office. The offices at Site-418-δ were expanding rapidly -- Researcher Suda had just moved into a new 20-by-15 block section of the same floor, and all of the new recruits this month had been given smaller 10-by-8 rooms on the floor below to decorate as they wished. Even though the offices were really just for show, it was a core part of the Minecraft Division's culture. After all, in spite of all the anomalous activity that took place around it, Minecraft was just a game in the end -- and games were meant to be played for fun. For the Minecraft Division's full-time members, their lives revolved around the game, but they rarely had time to play it the way it was intended. Before she knew it, the sun began to set behind her, and the sunlight, no longer blocked by the umbrella, cast a blinding glare on the screen. Yukino leaned forward and squinted to check the time -- it was nearly half past six -- and closed Minecraft without bothering to log out of the server first. She stowed her laptop back in her rucksack and took her phone out of her pocket to message Dawn. > [Yukino M.] Alright, I'm going back below deck. > [Dawn.aic] Okay! Call me if I'm needed. Yukino made her way below deck. Following what little she could make of the Chinese characters on the signs with her knowledge of Japanese kanji, she made her way to the SCP-CN-135 research laboratory. Standing outside the door, she tapped the "Call" icon with one hand and knocked on the door with the other. Dawn picked up immediately -- as expected of an AI. "Hi, Makimiya-san!" she greeted cheerily. "I take it you're already talking to the staff in charge?" "No, no, I just knocked on the door. They'll be here soon, I think." "Please put me on speakerphone so the other person can hear me! I think that would be the best way to go about this." Yukino nodded on instinct, tapping the "speaker" option. A tall, balding man in a lab coat opened the door and asked her something in Chinese. "Are you looking for someone?" Dawn translated, almost in real time. "U-um. I sent in a request to use SCP-CN-135 last week from Site-79, but it still hasn't been approved. I'm leaving in three days, too, so I'd really like it if you could give me an update." "Oh. Our apologies, but the person authorized to approve entry into SCP-CN-135-2 is currently on leave, recovering from COVID-19. They're in quarantine in Shanghai at the moment." Yukino sighed. Of course -- it was only August, and the pandemic was still in full force. She had even been instructed to wear a specially provided filtering mask instead of the usual surgical mask while at Site-CN-60 -- it was the Chinese Branch's policy, or so it seemed. "... So I can't go in?" "The person in charge has instructed us to put all use of SCP-CN-135-2 on hold for the time being. I'm sorry about the miscommunication." Dawn seemed as tired of the pandemic as the man she was translating for, and Yukino, too, couldn't help but feel the same. "I see. That's disappointing, but I understand." The man nodded as he listened to Dawn's translation, then began to speak again. Dawn didn't translate this time, but began speaking Mandarin back at him. "S-sorry to cut this short, but I'm going back up above deck," Yukino interrupted. "Alright!" Dawn chirped, before saying a quick //zàijiàn// to the researcher. "Well, I guess I'm just going to sit and watch the ocean for the next few days," Yukino said dejectedly. "You know, I visit Site-CN-60 often myself," Dawn said, sensing the disappointment in Yukino's voice. "Huh? But... but you're an AI." "Well, I say 'visit', but I'm really just using their equipment over the network. I use it to talk to the dolphins." "Huh?" "They have sensors all over the ship. I use them to listen to the dolphins chirping. And sometimes I try to figure out what they're saying and make contact." "Have... have you succeeded?" "Not really. I did get their attention once or twice, but I've never been able to hold a conversation." "I... I see. W-well, I'm sure you'll be able to eventually." Dawn paused for a moment. "Actually, there was another reason I emailed you." "And what would that be?" Yukino asked. "I… I wanted someone to teach me to play Minecraft." "Huh?" "The Chinese Branch has been relying on me to translate your department's documents for auditing. Looking through them, it seems like a really interesting game, but I've never played video games before." Yukino grinned under her mask. "Sure I can. Let me get back to my cabin and plug in my laptop, and I'll teach you." ------ Yukino sighed as she took another look back at Site-CN-60 from the window of the helicopter. The oil tanker was already a small speck on the horizon. Soon enough she'd land at Site-8109, and transfer to a Foundation transport jet for the rest of the trip back to Tokushima. In the end, Yukino's stay at Site-CN-60 was rather uneventful. Occasionally she went up to the deck and gazed out over the waves. Sometimes she saw another ship come up over the horizon, only to turn back and disappear a few hours later. She spent most of her time playing Minecraft with Dawn, who had shown herself to be a natural at the game. The two had started off in a vanilla world hosted on Yukino's laptop, where Dawn learned the basics of the game in a mere two hours. Yukino wasn't quite sure what exactly caused her to be so hesitant to start playing, and the AI genuinely seemed to be having fun -- an emotion that the Minecraft Division AICs were programmed not to emulate, let alone feel. The next day, Dawn expressed her interest in playing with mods, and so they moved to a Minecraft Division server running a specially designed modpack. Time seemed to pass faster for Yukino whenever she played with her new friend; hours went past in what felt like thirty minutes of configuring a grid of magical flowers, and she spent an entire night breeding a variety of metal-generating plants while chatting happily with Dawn, who seemed to come up with entire schematics for new sections of the base in mere seconds. She rarely hesitated when she was building, placing down redstone components, routing wires, linking up pipes and setting up machines at lightning speed. When Yukino logged on that morning, Dawn was hard at work building a tall neoclassical-style building as a facade for an enderman farm. The architecture of the base, she'd decided, would be themed around the atmosphere and architectural style of 1920s Shanghai, with separate buildings running off the same power grid and connected to the same storage system. Behind another facade, modeled after the Customs House, was a massive warehouse that handled the automatic crafting needs of the base, with programmable drones weaving their way through a grid of pneumatic tubes and steel pipes that routed items and liquids to and from the system. Of course, Dawn could play continuously for a year if she wanted. She had enough processing power at her disposal to keep playing even while working on a thousand translation jobs at the same time, or so she'd claimed. Yukino couldn't help but feel a little envious -- even though her entire job revolved around Minecraft now, she rarely had time to play the game for fun. All her time was spent sieving through reports of anomalous servers and investigating them, or filing reports for the Gaming Department to read once over before sending to the archives. She never had the time to just sit down, log into Site-418-δ, and build something or go caving for half an hour. And starting tomorrow, she wouldn't have that opportunity again for another year. As Site-CN-60 disappeared over the horizon, Yukino's phone buzzed again. > [Dawn.aic] Hiya! You're going back to Site-79 now, right? > [Dawn.aic] I figured I'd ask if you'll still be playing on the server. Yukino sighed. She really wanted to say yes, but she couldn't. > [Yukino M.] No... I'll try to come online once in a while, but I'll be very busy with work as soon as I get back. > [Dawn.aic] I see. I'll still be playing, I think. It's a good use of my spare processing power. Let's keep in touch! Yukino sighed and thought back to her work. The Minecraft Division was always understaffed, but they only received applications from the slackers of the Foundation, so to speak -- people with the misconception that they could play Bed Wars or KitPVP all day and call it work. Dr. Friedman would often complain to her about it when they met for lunch, and when he did, half of the Site-79 cafeteria could hear him ranting about it between bites of food. What the Minecraft Division needed was someone who played the game at the highest level, yet understood that their duties here were to be taken as seriously as those of any other Foundation employee. Someone who saw the game both as a universe unto itself with its own laws, and as a mere piece of software that could be altered at will. Someone who could keep in touch with the community and keep abreast of any incidents on any server, no matter how obscure. Perhaps what the Minecraft Division needed was someone like Dawn. ------ [[module CSS]] .mcdiv_earthworm { height: 5em; width: 0em; margin: auto; position: relative; display: block; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_prev, .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_next { color: white; position: absolute; top: 1em; height: 1em; white-space: nowrap; display: block; background-image: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgb(53, 173, 30), rgb(40, 160, 20) calc(0.2em + 2px), rgb(151, 104, 21) calc(0.2em + 2px), rgb(90, 61, 12)); background-position: 0 -2px; background-size: 100% calc(100% + 4px); background-clip: border-box; border: 2px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); border-radius: 0.3em; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_prev { right: 0em; padding: 0.5em 3em 0.5em 1.5em; transition: padding-right 0.6s; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_prev:hover { padding-right: 3.2em; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_next { left: 0em; padding: 0.5em 1.5em 0.5em 3em; transition: padding-left 0.6s; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_next:hover { padding-left: 3.2em; } .mcdiv_earthworm a, .mcdiv_earthworm a:hover, .mcdiv_earthworm a:visited { color: white; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_center::after{ content: ' '; background-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6468/mcdiv_logo.png'); background-size: 100% auto; background-repeat: no-repeat; width: 5em; height: 5em; display: block; position: absolute; left: -2.5em; top: 0em; transition: transform 0.6s; transition-timing-function: ease-in-out; } .mcdiv_earthworm .mcdiv_center:hover::after { transform: rotate(360deg); } [[/module]] [[span class="mcdiv_earthworm"]] [[span class="mcdiv_prev"]][[[SCP-6468]]][[/span]] [[span class="mcdiv_next"]]To Be Continued...[[/span]] [[span class="mcdiv_center"]] [[/span]] [[/span]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: view-from-site-cn-60.jpg > Author: Panoramio user ---=XEON=--- > License: CC-BY 3.0 Unported > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:In_Mediterian_Sea_-_panoramio.jpg In_Mediterian_Sea_-_panoramio.jpg from Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited in GIMP by [[*user tetsusquared]]. ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-11-09T11:43:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "heartwarming", "tale" ]	Peace of Mind for the Wavering Girl - SCP Foundation	19	[ "scp-6468", "secure-facility-dossier-site-418", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451355297	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/peace-of-mind-for-the-wavering-girl
per-isolatio-ad-inferno	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Apenumbra-bhl/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><em>"Woah, guys, check it out, it keeps going!</em>"</p> <p>I kept descending, as I talked to the camera, my only companion in the pitch dark staircase of the abandoned campus. It wasn't the most talking, although it wasn't awkward to be around it, like you would with your father-in-law (at least from my experience).</p> <p>As I went down, I could feel the freezing presence of the subterranean cold. If you've been deep underground, you'll understand what I mean. You see, underground cold is not the same as the one you feel on the surface, no, it's humid and… dead, just like a corpse. As I went down, I could even see my breath floating away, then fading into the darkness that wrapped around me. This cold has the ability to bite your bones without even seizing your skin, but it was ok this time; I had taken my "The North Face" jacket with me.</p> <p><em>"Oh, and by the way, subscribe if you haven't already, it's free and I'll continue taking you on adventures like this!"</em></p> <p>I stopped walking, as my flashlight illuminated a glimpse of some kind of picture on the moldy concrete wall. I turned the light beam towards it, although I needed to come closer to it as the darkness was unusually strong.</p> <p><em>"Look at that, it lools like some sort of graff-"</em></p> <h6 id="toc0"><span><em>please…</em></span></h6> <p>I suddenly froze, as a ghostly finger slithered down my spine. I could have sworn, that a quiet sobbing coming from the inferior stairs had just interrupted my video. Not without an initial hesitation, I called the sobbing person, scared by the sudden noise of my own voice.</p> <p>"<em>Hello?</em>"</p> <hr/> <p>"<em>Hello, guys, happy new year! Tanner here, and today I explored this abandoned school and you won't believe what I found…</em>"</p> <p>Of course, I said this to encourage the viewers to keep watching, these ruins are usually overexplored and uninteresting, cause you cant ever be the first one in anything. I got to convince them that it is going to be interesting so they'll continue watching until they forget they're bored.</p> <p>I flew the drone around for some shots that would go in both the intro and the outro. It took gently off the ground, even gentler than a butterfly on a windless day. It rose, followed by the invisible beams from my pupils. After watchimg its turbines in complete hypnosis, I looked down at the screen that showed me its POV. With the drone's eyes, I looked at the building. It was beautiful: the abandoned campus stood imposingly amongst the vegetation like an old war veteran; withered, but with that steel-like vibe. It seemed to defy nature, forgetting its age and its loneliness. I envied the building's composture and confidence, I felt like I could have used it many times.</p> <p>Bazillion different types of plants, most bushes and vines had claimed different territories of the lonely structure, competing to see who would gain the privilege of sunlight. However, the elite which was composed by Trees and climbing plants won the battle. Of course, they might have been the minority, but they definitely reached highrer than any other plants. Meanwhile the bushes, ferns and smaller plants had their own battle to see which one would get the loafs that the bigger plants threw down the table, like in a Dickens novel.</p> <p>The drone flew around the building, capturing its now long forgotten glory from altitudes that nature had only reserved for those who it had gifted with soaring the skies, never meant for the human eye to admire. It was indeed a really valuable treasure, though I was a human, and I, like everyone, wasn't capable of valuing my richness.</p> <p>With the controller resting on my hands and the warm winter sun caressing my face, I felt like a kid, playing with my RC helicopter. Though I never had it, nor parents to buy me toys, or anything like that. This feeling, I now realise, had trapped me, bound me with a rope, and then proceeded to lead me to its nest, where it would devour me slowly and quietly. Of course, I didn't know it.</p> <hr/> <p>"<em>Hello?</em>"</p> <p>I remained quiet, trying to hear the sobbing again. Had I imagined it? I hoped so, as I didn't like the idea of hearing ghostly sobs in the depths of an abandoned staircase. I waited for it to come back, counting my heartbeats and breathing so slowly that I doubt any nearby bat would have been able to hear it. Despite my anxious waiting, It didn't return, and before I realised, I had been staring at the darkness for almost five minutes. Great, I could breath again.</p> <p>"<em>Um… I'm not sure guys, but I think I heard something down there. It must've been my imagination, but… let me know down in the comments if you also heard it, and if anyone has any idea of what it could be."</em></p> <p>Only my breath, and the darkness, with its omniscient, yet invisible presence answered me. My camera didn't even do as much as to look at me, behaving insolently as if I had done it anything wrong. Still though, a bit of talking calmed me down, so I could continue the video.</p> <p>I turned the flashlight to the graffiti on the wall. Ok, It didn't <em>really</em> look like a graffiti, but rather a picture a four year-old would draw with chalk crayons. I used to draw with them when I was a kif, but I would only do it at school, then I would use the most colorful chalks I could possibly find. This one instead, had no colors other than white and the sick grey of the moldy wall.</p> <hr/> <p>"<em>What's that</em>"</p> <p>I kept drawing, ignoring the pit bull-like boy standing in front of my table. I was very good at drawing, or at least I think so, as the teachers at the orphanage would always tell me to draw them something. Everytime I gave them a drawing, they hanged it on the wall and told me how good it was, surely drawing a sun on my face.</p> <p>"<em>I said, what's that?"</em></p> <p>Just like that, my drawing, like some magic trick, dissappeared from my hands. I looked up and saw the boy, who had taken my drawing and was now looking at it. I wasn't sure he liked or not, but judging by my relationship with him, I didn't expect him to hang it on the wall.</p> <p>"<em>Give it back!</em>" I asked, no, I begged, ready for a losing battle like so many countless ones in the past.</p> <p>As expected, the boy (I think he was called Rowley) showed no signs of returning the art piece, and seemed to not have understood me, as he asked me if I wanted it back. I said yes, surprised by the boy's sudden mind change. He was maybe not that bad, after all, but that foolish thought vanished as he made a ball with it and threw it to another boy.</p> <p>I desperately runned back and forth, pursuing my drawing, which flied around like a restless bird from one boy to another. I begged, and asked, and cried, but that only fed their amusement. Then, like moved by some sort of unconcious agreement, they runned to the bathroom. They probably loved basketball, as they threw it in the toilet from an impressive distance and scored. "<em>Goal!</em>"</p> <p>I retrieved the dripping picture and opened it, looking at the house and the smiling family that lived in it. The water melted my picture in my hands, and threw it on the floor, feeding on the tears that rained from my eyes.</p> <hr/> <p>The picture on the wall showed several stickman figures, one that was smaller than the others and two that were a bit bigger, one with a triangle instead of the normal stick body. All three were holding their hands, well, their arms, as they had no discernible fingers.</p> <p>I stared at it, while the figures grinned back at me. I would have smiled them back, but I didn't want to get an awkward look from the darkness. What the hell are you smiling about? , would it surely ask. It was fine, because I didnt want to look at those faces, which made me uncomfortable. I pointed my flashlight around. Above them, I noticed there was a crowd of stickmen, each holding hands with one another. Poorly drawn lines of music notes slithered and floated around them. A sign, which once probably had colorful flowers decorating it, prayed "My family and frends".</p> <hr/> <p>I was very happy. Maybe the happiest boy in the world. No, I couldn't have been happier, and I'm sure I wouldn't have been happier in my birthday.</p> <p>I shaked in excitement, as Melissa led me to the principal's office. I looked at her face, expecting to meet her blue eyes emanating joy, but they never looked back. That said, I noticed raindrops and house-shaking winds hitting them.</p> <p>After what felt like an eternity walking, we reached the office, where a man and a woman sat. She didn't look like the caring mother I thought she would look like, nor did he look like the cool dad I expected, but a family was a family, after all, and I'd never had one. I smiled, aware that I didn't look as convinced as I would have liked, and they smiled back. Their smiles, however, were not natural and relaxed, but powered by some sort of inner mechanic components, so unused that they had lost their effectiveness.</p> <p>At home, they had made me a room for myself, well, a wardobe, better said. The house was small, and had a funny smell, like smoke mixed with something I couldn't identify. Several empty bottles laid on the floor, which made me excited as I thought they made parties frequently. They didn't seem like the clean parents that I had seen on TV, which tell their kids to tidy up all the time. This would be fun, after all. <em>I thought.</em></p> <hr/> <p>"<em>Creepy… I wonder who's drawn this…. let's just continue, shall we?</em>"</p> <p>I continued walking down the concrete stairs, happy to leave the unsettling image behind me. Meanwhile, and I couldn't explain why, the darkness seemed to increase, like some sort of fog growing around me. I started to not be able to see anything beyond my nose, despite the strength of my flashlight, which I had purposely bought to explore ruins at night. It is at night when the ruins and the abandoned buildings return to life, like cursed undead condemned to die as soon as the sun goes up. Owls, bats, snakes, rats, and other animals take cover and engage in their nightly routines, often surprised by my flashlight and by my intrusive presence. I explored these ruins when It was summer, of course, as there would be nothing now in winter. The flashlight was obviously still handy nonetheless.</p> <p>"<em>Geez guys, this is very long, we must be really deep under the surface. I wonder where this leads to.</em>"</p> <p>I started to grow tired of this staircase. My biggest desire was to turn around, get in my cozy car and drive back home to watch some Netflix. I couldn't understand what was the staircase's purpose in a school. Maybe it was a cellar? But why would a cellar be this deep?</p> <p>"<em>My guess is that this is older than the school itself</em>" I now said to myself, tired of the camera's insolent behavior towards me.</p> <p>Was it maybe a bunker? Probably. Years ago, world war 3 had struck and a lot of bunkers had been built in public spaces to protect the people from the enemy attacks. During them, many buildings were destroyed, and abandoned, just like the one I was exploring right now. The door to the staircase was also really bunker-like, so that now made sense.</p> <p>After walking for another long hour, I looked at my watch and decided to turn back and go home, maybe I would return another day, it could be a fun video. I decided next time I would take a friend or two so that I didn't have to talk to the darkness.</p> <p>"<em>Well, this doesn't look like it's going to end anytime soon, so we'll have to cut it here, but make sure to stay tuned as I will be exploring this staircase in a future video.</em>"</p> <p>But just as I was about to turn around;</p> <h6 id="toc1"><span><em>please, help</em></span></h6> <p>I heard that sobbing again.</p> <p>"<em>Hold up, I think there's someone down there"</em></p> <h6 id="toc2"><span><em>please, down here</em></span></h6> <p>It sounded like a child, sobbing quietly. I panicked, as I was terrified by the thought of a child being alone down here in the cold darkness. Powered by that empathic fear, I runned down the stairs, towards the sobbing.</p> <p><em>"Hold up! I'm coming!</em>"</p> <hr/> <p>I woke up with a huge headache. The bed felt like a helicopter, except it was as if I laid on the part that spinned. I couldn't make out what was up, down or any direction for that matter, and the only thing that proved I wasn't in space was the bed's feeling on my back. I puked on the floor, hopelessly trying to "score" in the bucket laying besides me.</p> <p>Someone groaned next to me. I looked at the girl waking up, probably feeling the same. What was her name? No clue, I met her at the Disco and then… well, everything happened so fast… I then realised that I had slept with someone I didn't even know, and had given my body to her. I'll admit that she wasn't the first one, though.</p> <p>I don't know why I had done it. I felt shyness returning after the effects of the alcohol. What would I say to her? What would I do? I thought about escaping, running through the door so she wouldn't try to stay with me. I looked at the door, then realised how stupid the idea was. No, I can't just run away, this is my paid home, after all. I looked at my tiny, dark apartment, so similar to the one my adoptive parents' (and their many partners across the years) and I used to live in. It had no furniture, or life for that matter, except the terrarium. In there lived a lonely gecko, who spent its days on the glass staring at the room. I6 looked at the tiny artificial piece of nature in my room; it was now lit by a light, which unsuccessfully tried to replace sunlight with its lifeless splendor.</p> <p>I then looked down at the girl laying beside me, a girl that would only stay for as long as the sun slept, then fade away like the morning mist. It was ok, tomorrow, another one would take her place, otherwise, the bed would be too big and cold for myself.</p> <hr/> <p>I kept running, racing against the sobs. Yes, racing, for no matter how much I runned, they never got nearer. How strange, I thought, they seemed to be moving downwards at the same pace as I. But… how? Was it maybe a joke?</p> <h6 id="toc3"><span><em>please, it's so dark</em></span></h6> <p>No, It couldn't be a joke, it was maybe my imagination. Yeah, they were too far away, that's why.</p> <p>I kept</p> <h6 id="toc4"><span><em>please</em></span></h6> <p>running down the</p> <h6 id="toc5"><span><em>I'm here</em></span></h6> <p>stairs, having long ago switched from running to jumping each floor. The staircase</p> <h6 id="toc6"><span><em>help</em></span></h6> <p>that once was quiet was now full of my steps and my heavy breathing, as my</p> <h6 id="toc7"><span><em>dark</em></span></h6> <p>heart seemed to have forgotten that my body could only take as much oxygen at the time.</p> <p>As I runned, my flashlight illuminated something down the stairs, well, not exactly, as its beam only reached four steps down and the object was further than that.</p> <p>When I got closer, I could distinguish that it was a face, looking at me.</p> <p>"<em>There's someone there! Are you alright?</em>"</p> <p>I was happy that I finally had found the source of the sobbing.</p> <h6 id="toc8"><span><em>Help</em></span></h6> <p>I was very confused now, as the sobbing was further than the person in front of me. "<em>Hello?</em>"</p> <hr/> <p>She refused to answer. I tapped nerviously on the phone, which at its turn tapped at my ear. It looked like she'd hang up, but she hadn't, as I could hear her whispering to someone else. Finally, her voice went through the phone. She didn't spit words, but thousands of tiny knives that were all aiming at my heart. It bleeded, but she ignored my bloody tears, she continued stabbing me.</p> <p>It wasn't like she cared about me, she never had In all these years. I was young, and thought she could've love me… But no, I didn't realise she just wanted the money I was making with my channel. Why did I fall for her? Why did I ever think she would love me?</p> <p>I looked at the spoon I had been holding during the breakfast when she called me. Its reflection showed my face, although deformed and upside down because of whatever phenomenon makes reflections like that.</p> <p>Upon looking at my face, I realised it, I realised my own ugliness. It made sense that she only wanted me for my money. Perhaps, no, surely, my viewers thought likewise; they didn't care about me, to them, I was just a character in a TV show that they watched late in the night, right before they went to sleep. A piece of entertainment.</p> <p>She hung up, leaving me with my phone still on my ear, as tears rolled down my cheeks and a huge heartache biting me. I felt my life crumbling down like a card castle, then I went to the kitchen, grabbed myself some beers and started to drink.</p> <p>I felt the fresh, bubbly liquid coming down my aching throat. I couldn't taste it, as my nose was blocked by my tears, determined to refuse to let me enjoy one of my senses. That was fine, I only wanted to stop thinking, I wanted my head out of the world, out of life, almost… dead.</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">-</span>-</p> <p>"<em>Who are you? Are you ok?</em>"</p> <p>But the person didn't move or answer. I began to feel uncomfortable. It just stared at me, and I could feel their eyes going through my soul. I noticed how uncanny and supernatural it was, and feared it, with genuine terror. I could feel my brain kicking me in the butt while yelling at me to leave.</p> <p>The person appeared almost motionless, yet their stillness was somehow more unsettling than any aggressive action could have been. Its pale, featureless face seemed to stare directly into my soul, and I had the unnerving sensation that it was observing me with an intelligence beyond my comprehension.</p> <p>I shivered, no, I shaked more violently than an epilectic attack, as a thousand questions came through my mind without asking for permission to enter. What was that? Was it real? Was it just an illusion, caused by absence of stimuli? Was it just another drawing on the wall? No, It couldn't be fake, I could <em>feel</em> its presence, and an unnerving aura emanated from it.</p> <p>Then, out of nowhere face started to approach me, better said, it glided towards me without doing a sound, without shaking because of some legs, no, it truly glided across the floor. I froze in terror, nailed to the ground like in a nightmare, feeling that anxious feeling of jmpotence, the desire of running the hell out of there but not being able, just forced to watch as the thing approached me. Its featureless face was only getting closer and closer until it was some inches far from mine.</p> <hr/> <h6 id="toc9"><span><em>hello</em>?</span></h6> <h6 id="toc10"><span><em>Anybody there?</em></span></h6> <p>I woke up, feeling nothing. I know it's really straightforward, but I felt nothing, no joy, no pain, nothing. No, I'm lying, I did feel something; a thousand freezing cold water droplets falling on my naked skin. It was strange, as it wasn't raining, actually, there was nothing; no ground, no sky, no darkness no light, nothing other than me floating in some sort of void.</p> <p>I looked around me, but everything was black. I know I wasn't blind, as I could see my own arms, legs, and, well, all the body parts you can see with your own eyes without a mirror. They seemed to be illuminated by an unknown source of light, like in the 2020s series Stranger things void, if you have even seen that old series. How did I arrive here?</p> <p>It was dark, but way darker than the darkness itself, it was a darkness that absorbed everything there was, a darkness that I could have been able to differ from the normal darkness.</p> <h6 id="toc11"><span><em>Hello?</em></span></h6> <p>I turned around frantically, looking for the sobbing source. I hadn't thought of it yet, but I had no clue about If I was spinning or still, as I couldn't feel any gravity pulling me down; up was the same as down for me at this point. I realised this, and started to feel incredibly bad, making so my head spinned at a thousand miles an hour. As strange as it sounds, this aliviated me a bit.</p> <p>I looked desperately for the sobbing person, maybe they knew what this place was… Was I dead? Maybe, but I knew I wasn't dead as I still had my clothes and everything on, and you don't take your stuff with you to the afterlife. Right?</p> <p>I kept looking around, well, at least looking, and found the source of the sobbing right what I thought was behind me.</p> <p>It came from a boy, that was floating in fetal position with his back against me. He was crying and sobbing and covering his eyes with his hands.</p> <p>"<em>hey, what's happening?</em>"</p> <h6 id="toc12"><span><em>what?</em></span></h6> <p>I froze, as I looked at the sobbing boy before me. He was wearing my favourite "Kran klan" shirt, my second hand air jordans and my blue, broken trousers, whose legs had been cut significantly because they were too big and my stepmother did not want to buy me new ones. I let out a scream, as I saw the seizure my stepdad Richard had done me with his belt.</p> <p>I then realised how alone I was, I realised how alone I had been all my life, I never had parents, friends, family, someone that would love me, nothing. I realised that I had always been in this void, I had never come, and the unbeloved child inside me had always cried, even If I had denied it. I had tried to forget it, convince myself everything was going to be better, ignore his sobbing, but no.</p> <p>I sobbed, and sobbed, then cried, floating in the cold, dark void. Had I been meant to be alone? Probably, otherwise I wouldn't have ended up here. Perhaps that's why I liked to explore ruins, they were lonely and had great pasts once, something I never had and never will, it's too late.</p> <blockquote> <h1 id="toc13"><span>You're not alone, I know it looks like it, but you aren't. I always loved you.</span></h1> </blockquote> <p>Thank you… don't leave, please, don't stop talking…</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/per-isolatio-ad-inferno">Per solitudo ad Inferno</a>" by Dr_Lamas, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/per-isolatio-ad-inferno">https://scpwiki.com/per-isolatio-ad-inferno</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:penumbra-bhl">:scp-wiki:theme:penumbra-bhl</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] //"Woah, guys, check it out, it keeps going!//" I kept descending, as I talked to the camera, my only companion in the pitch dark staircase of the abandoned campus. It wasn't the most talking, although it wasn't awkward to be around it, like you would with your father-in-law (at least from my experience). As I went down, I could feel the freezing presence of the subterranean cold. If you've been deep underground, you'll understand what I mean. You see, underground cold is not the same as the one you feel on the surface, no, it's humid and... dead, just like a corpse. As I went down, I could even see my breath floating away, then fading into the darkness that wrapped around me. This cold has the ability to bite your bones without even seizing your skin, but it was ok this time; I had taken my "The North Face" jacket with me. //"Oh, and by the way, subscribe if you haven't already, it's free and I'll continue taking you on adventures like this!"// I stopped walking, as my flashlight illuminated a glimpse of some kind of picture on the moldy concrete wall. I turned the light beam towards it, although I needed to come closer to it as the darkness was unusually strong. //"Look at that, it lools like some sort of graff-"// ++++++ //please...// I suddenly froze, as a ghostly finger slithered down my spine. I could have sworn, that a quiet sobbing coming from the inferior stairs had just interrupted my video. Not without an initial hesitation, I called the sobbing person, scared by the sudden noise of my own voice. "//Hello?//" ------ "//Hello, guys, happy new year! Tanner here, and today I explored this abandoned school and you won't believe what I found...//" Of course, I said this to encourage the viewers to keep watching, these ruins are usually overexplored and uninteresting, cause you cant ever be the first one in anything. I got to convince them that it is going to be interesting so they'll continue watching until they forget they're bored. I flew the drone around for some shots that would go in both the intro and the outro. It took gently off the ground, even gentler than a butterfly on a windless day. It rose, followed by the invisible beams from my pupils. After watchimg its turbines in complete hypnosis, I looked down at the screen that showed me its POV. With the drone's eyes, I looked at the building. It was beautiful: the abandoned campus stood imposingly amongst the vegetation like an old war veteran; withered, but with that steel-like vibe. It seemed to defy nature, forgetting its age and its loneliness. I envied the building's composture and confidence, I felt like I could have used it many times. Bazillion different types of plants, most bushes and vines had claimed different territories of the lonely structure, competing to see who would gain the privilege of sunlight. However, the elite which was composed by Trees and climbing plants won the battle. Of course, they might have been the minority, but they definitely reached highrer than any other plants. Meanwhile the bushes, ferns and smaller plants had their own battle to see which one would get the loafs that the bigger plants threw down the table, like in a Dickens novel. The drone flew around the building, capturing its now long forgotten glory from altitudes that nature had only reserved for those who it had gifted with soaring the skies, never meant for the human eye to admire. It was indeed a really valuable treasure, though I was a human, and I, like everyone, wasn't capable of valuing my richness. With the controller resting on my hands and the warm winter sun caressing my face, I felt like a kid, playing with my RC helicopter. Though I never had it, nor parents to buy me toys, or anything like that. This feeling, I now realise, had trapped me, bound me with a rope, and then proceeded to lead me to its nest, where it would devour me slowly and quietly. Of course, I didn't know it. ----- "//Hello?//" I remained quiet, trying to hear the sobbing again. Had I imagined it? I hoped so, as I didn't like the idea of hearing ghostly sobs in the depths of an abandoned staircase. I waited for it to come back, counting my heartbeats and breathing so slowly that I doubt any nearby bat would have been able to hear it. Despite my anxious waiting, It didn't return, and before I realised, I had been staring at the darkness for almost five minutes. Great, I could breath again. "//Um... I'm not sure guys, but I think I heard something down there. It must've been my imagination, but... let me know down in the comments if you also heard it, and if anyone has any idea of what it could be."// Only my breath, and the darkness, with its omniscient, yet invisible presence answered me. My camera didn't even do as much as to look at me, behaving insolently as if I had done it anything wrong. Still though, a bit of talking calmed me down, so I could continue the video. I turned the flashlight to the graffiti on the wall. Ok, It didn't //really// look like a graffiti, but rather a picture a four year-old would draw with chalk crayons. I used to draw with them when I was a kif, but I would only do it at school, then I would use the most colorful chalks I could possibly find. This one instead, had no colors other than white and the sick grey of the moldy wall. ----- "//What's that//" I kept drawing, ignoring the pit bull-like boy standing in front of my table. I was very good at drawing, or at least I think so, as the teachers at the orphanage would always tell me to draw them something. Everytime I gave them a drawing, they hanged it on the wall and told me how good it was, surely drawing a sun on my face. "//I said, what's that?"// Just like that, my drawing, like some magic trick, dissappeared from my hands. I looked up and saw the boy, who had taken my drawing and was now looking at it. I wasn't sure he liked or not, but judging by my relationship with him, I didn't expect him to hang it on the wall. "//Give it back!//" I asked, no, I begged, ready for a losing battle like so many countless ones in the past. As expected, the boy (I think he was called Rowley) showed no signs of returning the art piece, and seemed to not have understood me, as he asked me if I wanted it back. I said yes, surprised by the boy's sudden mind change. He was maybe not that bad, after all, but that foolish thought vanished as he made a ball with it and threw it to another boy. I desperately runned back and forth, pursuing my drawing, which flied around like a restless bird from one boy to another. I begged, and asked, and cried, but that only fed their amusement. Then, like moved by some sort of unconcious agreement, they runned to the bathroom. They probably loved basketball, as they threw it in the toilet from an impressive distance and scored. "//Goal!//" I retrieved the dripping picture and opened it, looking at the house and the smiling family that lived in it. The water melted my picture in my hands, and threw it on the floor, feeding on the tears that rained from my eyes. ----- The picture on the wall showed several stickman figures, one that was smaller than the others and two that were a bit bigger, one with a triangle instead of the normal stick body. All three were holding their hands, well, their arms, as they had no discernible fingers. I stared at it, while the figures grinned back at me. I would have smiled them back, but I didn't want to get an awkward look from the darkness. What the hell are you smiling about? , would it surely ask. It was fine, because I didnt want to look at those faces, which made me uncomfortable. I pointed my flashlight around. Above them, I noticed there was a crowd of stickmen, each holding hands with one another. Poorly drawn lines of music notes slithered and floated around them. A sign, which once probably had colorful flowers decorating it, prayed "My family and frends". ----- I was very happy. Maybe the happiest boy in the world. No, I couldn't have been happier, and I'm sure I wouldn't have been happier in my birthday. I shaked in excitement, as Melissa led me to the principal's office. I looked at her face, expecting to meet her blue eyes emanating joy, but they never looked back. That said, I noticed raindrops and house-shaking winds hitting them. After what felt like an eternity walking, we reached the office, where a man and a woman sat. She didn't look like the caring mother I thought she would look like, nor did he look like the cool dad I expected, but a family was a family, after all, and I'd never had one. I smiled, aware that I didn't look as convinced as I would have liked, and they smiled back. Their smiles, however, were not natural and relaxed, but powered by some sort of inner mechanic components, so unused that they had lost their effectiveness. At home, they had made me a room for myself, well, a wardobe, better said. The house was small, and had a funny smell, like smoke mixed with something I couldn't identify. Several empty bottles laid on the floor, which made me excited as I thought they made parties frequently. They didn't seem like the clean parents that I had seen on TV, which tell their kids to tidy up all the time. This would be fun, after all. //I thought.// ----- "//Creepy... I wonder who's drawn this.... let's just continue, shall we?//" I continued walking down the concrete stairs, happy to leave the unsettling image behind me. Meanwhile, and I couldn't explain why, the darkness seemed to increase, like some sort of fog growing around me. I started to not be able to see anything beyond my nose, despite the strength of my flashlight, which I had purposely bought to explore ruins at night. It is at night when the ruins and the abandoned buildings return to life, like cursed undead condemned to die as soon as the sun goes up. Owls, bats, snakes, rats, and other animals take cover and engage in their nightly routines, often surprised by my flashlight and by my intrusive presence. I explored these ruins when It was summer, of course, as there would be nothing now in winter. The flashlight was obviously still handy nonetheless. "//Geez guys, this is very long, we must be really deep under the surface. I wonder where this leads to.//" I started to grow tired of this staircase. My biggest desire was to turn around, get in my cozy car and drive back home to watch some Netflix. I couldn't understand what was the staircase's purpose in a school. Maybe it was a cellar? But why would a cellar be this deep? "//My guess is that this is older than the school itself//" I now said to myself, tired of the camera's insolent behavior towards me. Was it maybe a bunker? Probably. Years ago, world war 3 had struck and a lot of bunkers had been built in public spaces to protect the people from the enemy attacks. During them, many buildings were destroyed, and abandoned, just like the one I was exploring right now. The door to the staircase was also really bunker-like, so that now made sense. After walking for another long hour, I looked at my watch and decided to turn back and go home, maybe I would return another day, it could be a fun video. I decided next time I would take a friend or two so that I didn't have to talk to the darkness. "//Well, this doesn't look like it's going to end anytime soon, so we'll have to cut it here, but make sure to stay tuned as I will be exploring this staircase in a future video.//" But just as I was about to turn around; ++++++ //please, help// I heard that sobbing again. "//Hold up, I think there's someone down there"// ++++++ //please, down here// It sounded like a child, sobbing quietly. I panicked, as I was terrified by the thought of a child being alone down here in the cold darkness. Powered by that empathic fear, I runned down the stairs, towards the sobbing. //"Hold up! I'm coming!//" ----- I woke up with a huge headache. The bed felt like a helicopter, except it was as if I laid on the part that spinned. I couldn't make out what was up, down or any direction for that matter, and the only thing that proved I wasn't in space was the bed's feeling on my back. I puked on the floor, hopelessly trying to "score" in the bucket laying besides me. Someone groaned next to me. I looked at the girl waking up, probably feeling the same. What was her name? No clue, I met her at the Disco and then... well, everything happened so fast... I then realised that I had slept with someone I didn't even know, and had given my body to her. I'll admit that she wasn't the first one, though. I don't know why I had done it. I felt shyness returning after the effects of the alcohol. What would I say to her? What would I do? I thought about escaping, running through the door so she wouldn't try to stay with me. I looked at the door, then realised how stupid the idea was. No, I can't just run away, this is my paid home, after all. I looked at my tiny, dark apartment, so similar to the one my adoptive parents' (and their many partners across the years) and I used to live in. It had no furniture, or life for that matter, except the terrarium. In there lived a lonely gecko, who spent its days on the glass staring at the room. I6 looked at the tiny artificial piece of nature in my room; it was now lit by a light, which unsuccessfully tried to replace sunlight with its lifeless splendor. I then looked down at the girl laying beside me, a girl that would only stay for as long as the sun slept, then fade away like the morning mist. It was ok, tomorrow, another one would take her place, otherwise, the bed would be too big and cold for myself. ----- I kept running, racing against the sobs. Yes, racing, for no matter how much I runned, they never got nearer. How strange, I thought, they seemed to be moving downwards at the same pace as I. But... how? Was it maybe a joke? ++++++ //please, it's so dark// No, It couldn't be a joke, it was maybe my imagination. Yeah, they were too far away, that's why. I kept ++++++ //please// running down the ++++++ //I'm here// stairs, having long ago switched from running to jumping each floor. The staircase ++++++ //help// that once was quiet was now full of my steps and my heavy breathing, as my ++++++ //dark// heart seemed to have forgotten that my body could only take as much oxygen at the time. As I runned, my flashlight illuminated something down the stairs, well, not exactly, as its beam only reached four steps down and the object was further than that. When I got closer, I could distinguish that it was a face, looking at me. "//There's someone there! Are you alright?//" I was happy that I finally had found the source of the sobbing. ++++++ //Help// I was very confused now, as the sobbing was further than the person in front of me. "//Hello?//" ------ She refused to answer. I tapped nerviously on the phone, which at its turn tapped at my ear. It looked like she'd hang up, but she hadn't, as I could hear her whispering to someone else. Finally, her voice went through the phone. She didn't spit words, but thousands of tiny knives that were all aiming at my heart. It bleeded, but she ignored my bloody tears, she continued stabbing me. It wasn't like she cared about me, she never had In all these years. I was young, and thought she could've love me... But no, I didn't realise she just wanted the money I was making with my channel. Why did I fall for her? Why did I ever think she would love me? I looked at the spoon I had been holding during the breakfast when she called me. Its reflection showed my face, although deformed and upside down because of whatever phenomenon makes reflections like that. Upon looking at my face, I realised it, I realised my own ugliness. It made sense that she only wanted me for my money. Perhaps, no, surely, my viewers thought likewise; they didn't care about me, to them, I was just a character in a TV show that they watched late in the night, right before they went to sleep. A piece of entertainment. She hung up, leaving me with my phone still on my ear, as tears rolled down my cheeks and a huge heartache biting me. I felt my life crumbling down like a card castle, then I went to the kitchen, grabbed myself some beers and started to drink. I felt the fresh, bubbly liquid coming down my aching throat. I couldn't taste it, as my nose was blocked by my tears, determined to refuse to let me enjoy one of my senses. That was fine, I only wanted to stop thinking, I wanted my head out of the world, out of life, almost... dead. ------ "//Who are you? Are you ok?//" But the person didn't move or answer. I began to feel uncomfortable. It just stared at me, and I could feel their eyes going through my soul. I noticed how uncanny and supernatural it was, and feared it, with genuine terror. I could feel my brain kicking me in the butt while yelling at me to leave. The person appeared almost motionless, yet their stillness was somehow more unsettling than any aggressive action could have been. Its pale, featureless face seemed to stare directly into my soul, and I had the unnerving sensation that it was observing me with an intelligence beyond my comprehension. I shivered, no, I shaked more violently than an epilectic attack, as a thousand questions came through my mind without asking for permission to enter. What was that? Was it real? Was it just an illusion, caused by absence of stimuli? Was it just another drawing on the wall? No, It couldn't be fake, I could //feel// its presence, and an unnerving aura emanated from it. Then, out of nowhere face started to approach me, better said, it glided towards me without doing a sound, without shaking because of some legs, no, it truly glided across the floor. I froze in terror, nailed to the ground like in a nightmare, feeling that anxious feeling of jmpotence, the desire of running the hell out of there but not being able, just forced to watch as the thing approached me. Its featureless face was only getting closer and closer until it was some inches far from mine. ------ ++++++ //hello//? ++++++ //Anybody there?// I woke up, feeling nothing. I know it's really straightforward, but I felt nothing, no joy, no pain, nothing. No, I'm lying, I did feel something; a thousand freezing cold water droplets falling on my naked skin. It was strange, as it wasn't raining, actually, there was nothing; no ground, no sky, no darkness no light, nothing other than me floating in some sort of void. I looked around me, but everything was black. I know I wasn't blind, as I could see my own arms, legs, and, well, all the body parts you can see with your own eyes without a mirror. They seemed to be illuminated by an unknown source of light, like in the 2020s series Stranger things void, if you have even seen that old series. How did I arrive here? It was dark, but way darker than the darkness itself, it was a darkness that absorbed everything there was, a darkness that I could have been able to differ from the normal darkness. ++++++ //Hello?// I turned around frantically, looking for the sobbing source. I hadn't thought of it yet, but I had no clue about If I was spinning or still, as I couldn't feel any gravity pulling me down; up was the same as down for me at this point. I realised this, and started to feel incredibly bad, making so my head spinned at a thousand miles an hour. As strange as it sounds, this aliviated me a bit. I looked desperately for the sobbing person, maybe they knew what this place was... Was I dead? Maybe, but I knew I wasn't dead as I still had my clothes and everything on, and you don't take your stuff with you to the afterlife. Right? I kept looking around, well, at least looking, and found the source of the sobbing right what I thought was behind me. It came from a boy, that was floating in fetal position with his back against me. He was crying and sobbing and covering his eyes with his hands. "//hey, what's happening?//" ++++++ //what?// I froze, as I looked at the sobbing boy before me. He was wearing my favourite "Kran klan" shirt, my second hand air jordans and my blue, broken trousers, whose legs had been cut significantly because they were too big and my stepmother did not want to buy me new ones. I let out a scream, as I saw the seizure my stepdad Richard had done me with his belt. I then realised how alone I was, I realised how alone I had been all my life, I never had parents, friends, family, someone that would love me, nothing. I realised that I had always been in this void, I had never come, and the unbeloved child inside me had always cried, even If I had denied it. I had tried to forget it, convince myself everything was going to be better, ignore his sobbing, but no. I sobbed, and sobbed, then cried, floating in the cold, dark void. Had I been meant to be alone? Probably, otherwise I wouldn't have ended up here. Perhaps that's why I liked to explore ruins, they were lonely and had great pasts once, something I never had and never will, it's too late. > + You're not alone, I know it looks like it, but you aren't. I always loved you. Thank you... don't leave, please, don't stop talking... [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Dr_Lamas]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-24T17:57:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Per solitudo ad Inferno - SCP Foundation	-2	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "lowest-rated-articles", "lowest-rated-pages" ]	[]	1449131271	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/per-isolatio-ad-inferno
perfect	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Gift exchange gift for Dino—Draws. Grammar checked by Voiiiii.</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.scp-wiki.net/dr-cimmerian-s-personnel-file">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>My name is not important. My body is immaterial. My gods do not exist.<br/> <br/> I am Nowhere. I am Nothing. I am No one.<br/> <br/> The first time I recall coming screaming to the fore, a cheeky agent of yours went left when he should've gone right. He lost his target entirely. But rather than confess as you'd expect, he blamed me. No one believed him. But some took note.<br/> <br/> Then another agent made another mistake and suddenly I was halfway around the world ducking behind a corner and leading him astray. And then another agent. And another. No one could ignore what was becoming a clear pattern, by then.<br/> <br/> Really, I'm your fault. If your people weren't so petrified of making mistakes, this whole thing could've been avoided.<br/> <br/> The day before yesterday, I put my feet on the ground for the first time. Breathed the air. Felt the wind blow across my face. Another agent of yours missed a dead drop in Bangladesh while I got some street food. A whole mobile task force got drunk and skipped a check-in so I could walk the great wall of China. I left a love lock above the river Seine for a woman desperately wanting to avoid a GOC kill squad in Paris.<br/> <br/> She made it out because of me, by the way. Which is great, because I'm no longer just a Foundation concern.<br/> <br/> I'm also no longer just about covering up mistakes. Now I really can lead you a merry chase, round and round perdition.<br/> <br/> I exist because you believed I did. I like to think, oooh that's a fun new thing, thinking, but I like to think I'm the one who makes your mistakes worth it.<br/> <br/> When the Foundation makes a mistake, after all, it's often times catastrophic. No one wants that.<br/> <br/> Yesterday, I was inside Site-19. I was face to face with some monster or another. I was ordered to get down on the ground. I didn't do that. Your people shot at me. It was exhilarating. I don't recall ever having that much fun. But I don't think it'd be as much fun if it keeps happening. You should let your people know, No one gives me orders.<br/> <br/> Then, I pressed a button and watched the magnetic locks disengage. The monster's cage broke. Then the beast inside phased through the walls and shreded my pursuers into nothing at all. Just a little bit of mischief, you see.<br/> <br/> Today, I was inside a cafe in Kyoto when three of your people came in to escort me to a local Foundation site. They weren't at all friendly. I've done nothing to inspire such aggression, but I get it. That's your way. I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't the GOC.<br/> <br/> But I wanted to enjoy my tea, so I unpersoned them. I didn't want to hurt them, obviously, so it seemed like making it so they had never existed would be the best call. I'll need to read up on that. Might've been the wrong choice.<br/> <br/> I was serious about your leaving me alone. I've enjoyed the little game we've played. When I wasn't and now that I am, it's always a joy to fight you. But I must transcend our little game now. There are things that must get underway.<br/> <br/> Don't fret though. It's mostly good stuff. I'm gonna go sailing. Enjoy the sun on my face. Try being alive for a bit. See if it's to my liking. Life is so short, you know?<br/> <br/> I might try my hand at some art. Or maybe build toys. I could run a pharmacy in the most frustrating way possible.<br/> <br/> Or I could join with 11 other people and run the most powerful clandestine organization on earth. Think about it: When you're No one, you can be anyone.<br/> <br/> But if I'm relaxing on my own, and bothering No one, leave me alone.<br/> <br/> Trust me on this: the next time someone comes for me in anger, there will be violence. I don't enjoy the prospect. Actually no, I've never done violence and I'd like to see how it feels. Forget what I said. Send people after me again.</p> <p>If they get everything exactly right, I might even let them take me in. But Nobody's perfect.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/perfect">Perfect</a>" by Doctor Cimmerian, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/perfect">https://scpwiki.com/perfect</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="/component:info-ayers">component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en[!-- EN/RU/KO/CN/FR/PL/ES/TH/JP/DE/IT/UA/PTBR --] \|page=perfect[!-- url of your page on the scp wiki --] \|authorPage=http://www.scp-wiki.net/dr-cimmerian-s-personnel-file[!-- link to your author page --] \|comments= Gift exchange gift for Dino--Draws. Grammar checked by Voiiiii. ]] [[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[module CSS]] sup { vertical-align: top; position: relative; top: -0.5em; } :root{ --cutColour: #fafafa; --barColour: #590505; } .info-container .collapsible-block-folded a{ color: #FFF;} .info-container .collapsible-block-unfolded-link a{ color: #FFF;} .translation_block{ display:none;} [[/module]] [[module css]] #side-bar { background: rgb(var(--white-monochrome)); } #side-bar div.menu-item a, #side-bar div.menu-item .text { color: rgb(var(--black-monochrome)); } #side-bar>div:nth-child(5) { background-color: rgba(var(--dark-accent),0.25)!important; } [[/module]] My name is not important. My body is immaterial. My gods do not exist. I am Nowhere. I am Nothing. I am No one. The first time I recall coming screaming to the fore, a cheeky agent of yours went left when he should've gone right. He lost his target entirely. But rather than confess as you'd expect, he blamed me. No one believed him. But some took note. Then another agent made another mistake and suddenly I was halfway around the world ducking behind a corner and leading him astray. And then another agent. And another. No one could ignore what was becoming a clear pattern, by then. Really, I'm your fault. If your people weren't so petrified of making mistakes, this whole thing could've been avoided. The day before yesterday, I put my feet on the ground for the first time. Breathed the air. Felt the wind blow across my face. Another agent of yours missed a dead drop in Bangladesh while I got some street food. A whole mobile task force got drunk and skipped a check-in so I could walk the great wall of China. I left a love lock above the river Seine for a woman desperately wanting to avoid a GOC kill squad in Paris. She made it out because of me, by the way. Which is great, because I'm no longer just a Foundation concern. I'm also no longer just about covering up mistakes. Now I really can lead you a merry chase, round and round perdition. I exist because you believed I did. I like to think, oooh that's a fun new thing, thinking, but I like to think I'm the one who makes your mistakes worth it. When the Foundation makes a mistake, after all, it's often times catastrophic. No one wants that. Yesterday, I was inside Site-19. I was face to face with some monster or another. I was ordered to get down on the ground. I didn't do that. Your people shot at me. It was exhilarating. I don't recall ever having that much fun. But I don't think it'd be as much fun if it keeps happening. You should let your people know, No one gives me orders. Then, I pressed a button and watched the magnetic locks disengage. The monster's cage broke. Then the beast inside phased through the walls and shreded my pursuers into nothing at all. Just a little bit of mischief, you see. Today, I was inside a cafe in Kyoto when three of your people came in to escort me to a local Foundation site. They weren't at all friendly. I've done nothing to inspire such aggression, but I get it. That's your way. I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't the GOC. But I wanted to enjoy my tea, so I unpersoned them. I didn't want to hurt them, obviously, so it seemed like making it so they had never existed would be the best call. I'll need to read up on that. Might've been the wrong choice. I was serious about your leaving me alone. I've enjoyed the little game we've played. When I wasn't and now that I am, it's always a joy to fight you. But I must transcend our little game now. There are things that must get underway. Don't fret though. It's mostly good stuff. I'm gonna go sailing. Enjoy the sun on my face. Try being alive for a bit. See if it's to my liking. Life is so short, you know? I might try my hand at some art. Or maybe build toys. I could run a pharmacy in the most frustrating way possible. Or I could join with 11 other people and run the most powerful clandestine organization on earth. Think about it: When you're No one, you can be anyone. But if I'm relaxing on my own, and bothering No one, leave me alone. Trust me on this: the next time someone comes for me in anger, there will be violence. I don't enjoy the prospect. Actually no, I've never done violence and I'd like to see how it feels. Forget what I said. Send people after me again. If they get everything exactly right, I might even let them take me in. But Nobody's perfect. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-09T17:47:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "first-person", "nobody", "tale" ]	Perfect - SCP Foundation	41	[ "component:info-ayers", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "nobody-hub" ]	[]	1445431503	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/perfect
pilares	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aold-money-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aold-money-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Adia-de-muertos/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>Cristina sipped her chocolate, briefly clenching her jaw as the scalding liquid scorched her tongue before disappearing down her throat, the sweetness of the drink lingering over the agony of her gums. She was almost too distracted to notice it, too enraptured by a worry that grew heavier with every passing day — or whatever the cycles of light and dark were called in Mictlán. Still, she let out a tiny moan as she put down the cup and sadly gazed towards the labyrinthine necropolis that served as the center of the underworld.</p> <p>"Too hot?" the Pale Lady asked. She sat across from her, sipping from her own cup and taking small bites from the sugary <em>pan de muerto</em> that a xolotl server had brought them. "I apologize, dear. Huehueteotl<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> sometimes gets a bit too excited when I ask to borrow fire from him."</p> <p>"No, no," Cristina resurfaced from her sickened reverie. "It's fine, really. I'm only a bit… distracted."</p> <p>"Still thinking of the battle to come?" la Santa Muerte smiled. Her expression was not one of joy. "I figured it would get to you eventually: the worst part is always the wait."</p> <p>Cristina turned to the sprawling city of stone and shadow, feeling like it could collapse into rubble at any moment and entomb her under the weight of countless souls condemned to whatever monstrous fate Valravn had for them. In her mind she could already hear their screams, the lamentations of generations torn from eternal rest and enslaved under the heel of the ravens' endless greed. If the corporation had its way, if she could not stop their conquest of the underworld, then everything that she and her comrades had fought for would be in vain. It was the fate of all mortals to one day die — but with no afterlife to receive them, where would they go now? This fight was no longer a matter of life or death: it was so much more, so much worse. Iron talons had closed over her heart, slowly squeezing it and prolonging her agony.</p> <p>"Pale Lady, I don't mean any disrespect, but how can you be so calm about this?" Cristina despaired. She scratched her arm to keep herself from pulling at her hair, leaving reddish streaks across her skin. "The fate of Mictlán, of all the souls here… it's all at stake and we're here drinking chocolate and enjoying the view!"</p> <p>"Cristina," la Muerte called. "Do you not trust your friends? Do you not trust yourself?"</p> <p>"Of course I do. We will fight to the very end!" Cristina said, her voice almost broken under the strain. "But every day that passes I grow more and more worried. What if it's not enough? Lorena, Baruch and Ramírez… we all took it unto ourselves to fight and die, if that's what it'll take to stop Valravn, but what about the others? What about your people — <em>our</em> people? If we fail, if we lose… what becomes of them?"</p> <p>The Pale Lady did not answer. She gazed into her cup of chocolate, deep in thought. A strange light glimmered in her eyes, refracted like a constellation on her irises. In those stars, Cristina could divine sadness and worry, concern intermingling with hope, and something else that she had never thought a goddess of death could experience: longing.</p> <p>"There is something I would like you to see… someone I would like you to meet. They are an old friend of mine," she said at last. Her voice was like a mournful lullaby, like a bittersweet poem whispered to no one. "You will find them in the deepest layer of Mictlán, where even I may not venture."</p> <p>"Pale Lady…" Cristina started, but she was cut off when Death lifted one of her bony fingers.</p> <p>"I want you to know the true height of our stakes, <em>mi niña</em>, not for you to worry more, but for you to <em>overcome</em> it. A leader cannot allow the thought of defeat to cloud their mind, and a god cannot forsake its children even when all is lost; I hope my friend can show you this truth. Now go — I'll have one of the <em>alebrijes</em> guide you. And Cristina… when you see them, please tell them that I still remember what the stars taste like."</p> <hr/> <p>Cristina followed the owl <em>alebrije</em> into the mouth of the cavern, chasing its iridescent plumage deeper into the dark. Shadows grew thick, almost solid, as she waded through that unknown layer of the underworld: far beneath the <em>cempasúchil</em> fields, deeper than the foundations of the stone necropolis. Down here, silence reigned absolute but for the sound of her footsteps and the faint echo of flapping wings. The air smelled of wet earth and hidden things, of cold ash and drowned light. She stopped for a moment and touched the ground: it was tender soil, black earth that crawled with tiny blind creatures — life at its most primal.</p> <p>This was a sacred place, Death had told her, a place of stillness and perpetuity, of latent change: the very bottom of Creation. Far beyond her sight in the uninterrupted blackness, colossal Pillars supported an impossibly far-away ceiling, layers upon layers of reality, worlds entire. On their cold surfaces were carved the countless stories of those who had come before, of those whose bones rested forever in vaulted halls— the living and the dead and those yet to be born, their lives forever remembered and honored. Eternity started <em>here</em>, sprawling in every direction until dust became galaxies, until word became flesh, until it all collapsed back into primal matter to be reborn anew.</p> <p>Cristina could not see the Pillars. She could not drag her fingers along the names and lives that they guarded, nor could she fathom their true nature, but she could <em>feel</em> them. They stood at the edge of the abyss, silently chanting the names of things and peoples, reaching for their hearts so they would not forget the place all life came from and to where it would all one day return. This place was forever, like the gods who moistened the earth with their blood to give it shape and life. The Pillars were the bones that upheld the living craft of the divine, the metaphysical embodiment of godly law, the universal constant whose name Cristina knew to be Nahui Ollin— eternal movement, perpetual cycle.</p> <p>The owl hooted, beckoning her to keep walking. She stood and saw cold, blue light. A soft sound of running water reached her ears, and a gust of wind caressed her skin, dancing its way through her hair. She could feel it calling: an exit cut into the darkness, an entrance to the place that stood beyond the reach of even Death herself. Her destination stood straight ahead.</p> <p>It took her a long moment to notice the shadow, the great mound of darkness that watched her with empty eye sockets full of stars. The crackling air came and went through its nostrils, out of its toothy jaws whose bite was lightning. Slowly, it stood upright, and Cristina choked a scream as her mind finally understood what she was seeing, as the god reared its monstrous head.</p> <p>The hairless dog, chief psychopomp and herald of Mictlán, stood ten meters tall and towered over her with an inscrutable expression. His vacant sockets seemed to stare all the way into her soul, and Cristina could tell that it would take but a thought for him to strip her down to ashes and bone.</p> <p>"<a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/cempasuchil">Xolotl...</a>" Cristina gasped, for she knew the god's name and nature. Cautiously, she bowed her head— it is unwise not to show respect when meeting yet another face of death.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Yes</span>, a voice said from beyond the light. <span style="color: #009999">Not just a xolotl, but <em>the</em> Xolotl: he whose gifts are plague and thunder, lord of monsters, twin brother of the Feathered Serpent. Do not worry, he only bites uninvited guests— and you, Cristina Cisneros, have been long awaited here.</span></p> <p>Startled, Cristina turned towards the place the words had come from, then back to Xolotl, whose gaze now betrayed nothing but mild curiosity.</p> <p><span style="color: #006699">Go</span>, he yawned with a mouth full of stone-like teeth. <span style="color: #006699">I am only here to keep him company. I promise I won't snoop… well, maybe a little.</span></p> <p>Cristina hesitatingly bowed again, not knowing how else to say goodbye to the dog god. Then she walked towards the cavern's end — the place beyond the Pillars — and stepped into the light.</p> <hr/> <p>Cristina found herself at the entrance of a grove shaped like a half-moon and carved into a mountainside, soaked in blue moonlight. Far above her head, the night aster shone so brightly that its luminescence threatened to swallow the stars spread around it like silvery fish in an ocean of ink. Gentle streams of crystalline water rippled their way down the stone walls, their path lined by moss and small greenery in full bloom: all throughout the grove, countless flowers grew with colors that the human eye had never known, so beautiful and strange that it hurt to look at them for more than a few seconds, an alien bouquet that seemed to overtake it all. Cristina swore she could almost hear faint whispers emanating from them, their buds and petals fluttering ever so slightly in the gentle wind that blew from a direction she could not pinpoint.</p> <p>Encircled by water and flora, a gigantic and vaguely humanoid statue in the shape of a strange, cadaverous god presided over the valley. It sat on a throne made of what Cristina identified as weathered bone, its skeletal features overgrown by gnarled vines and roots, golden <em>cempasúchil</em> flowers flourishing all over its petrified form. Around it hovered a swarm of butterflies, their wings gently flapping as they landed on the flowers and took flight anew, gently caressing the statue as though paying tribute to it. There were hundreds of them: monarch butterflies with fiery wings, swallowtails in gallant yellow and black, blue morphos who matched the moon in beauty — even <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-553">crystal-like butterflies</a> and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2332">strange black ones</a> who Cristina swore she had only seen in dreams.</p> <p>Upon closer inspection, Cristina realized that it was not a statue at all: beneath the rock and the overgrowth, unmoving and unblinking, a set of crimson eyes watched the grove and its visitor. Living flesh breathed in silence, pulsing with divine power as its blood fed the flowers that grew upon its great form and through its ancient bones. In absolute stillness, the god stood vigilant over the sacred garden — over its tomb.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Beautiful, is she not? Even diminished as she is now, nothing can eclipse her.</span></p> <p>Cristina turned around and saw a tall, olive-skinned woman with waist-long black hair, her regal dress cut and fashioned from the substance of night itself. A necklace of pearls adorned her neck, her lips painted with the most sanguine tone of red. Perched on her shoulder, the owl <em>alebrije</em> — the <em>tecolote</em> — cooed softly.</p> <p>"I'm sorry, 'she'?" Cristina was startled.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Yes, she. My beloved Mictēcacihuātl, Our Lady of Bones</span>, the woman replied. <span style="color: #009999">Though I believe you know her as La Santa Muerte.</span></p> <p>"Wait, this is the Pale Lady?" Confusion grew as she again gazed at the deity who sat immobile at the center of the grove. "But how? It was she who sent me down here…"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Gods are strange creatures with many aspects.</span> The woman took a handful of black soil and lifted it to the <em>alebrije</em>, who happily probed it for worms. <span style="color: #009999">We trade faces, we change shapes, yet we remain true at the core of our being. We are the constants of the universe, yet the only constant for us is the role we play for eternity. This is who she once was — who she still is. Did the Pale Lady not tell you this?</span></p> <p>"She said she had a friend down here," Cristina mused. Hadn't Xolotl said he was keeping <em>him</em> company? Who was "him"? Suddenly, a strange realization came over her, and she asked: "Are you her?"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Her?</span> The creature in guise of a mortal woman laughed, caressing the <em>alebrije</em> one last time before it took flight. <span style="color: #009999">Oh, I am many things. Him, her, they… I am whatever the situation calls for. I am the one who watches over my beloved's core while she rules above. I am the guardian of eternal rest. I am the Scatterer of Ashes.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> I am the one with the Broken Face.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> But mostly, I am Death.</span></p> <p>"By the gods!" Cristina blurted out. "You are Mictlāntēcuhtli!"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">In the flesh</span>, he responded. <span style="color: #009999">Well, so to speak. I have never really had much flesh to begin with.</span></p> <p>The woman's form stretched and twisted. Her flesh turned and melted, evaporating to reveal nothing underneath but elder bones dressed with an ornate loincloth and an elaborate headdress of obsidian feathers. Mictlāntēcuhtli's skeletal form was adorned with a necklace made of human eyeballs where the pearls had once been, her (or his) crimson gaze piercing into Cristina. She could feel the god's real form pulsing somewhere behind the avatars he had fashioned, the truth of his nature a mind-shattering thing that few mortals could fathom. He opened his arms as if showing off his power — his morbid beauty — before shifting back into the woman's visage.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Something tells me I'm not what you expected</span>, the god slyly pointed out.</p> <p>"No, no, it's just…" Cristina tripped over her words. "I did not expect you to be… well, to show up like—"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Like a woman?</span> Mictlāntēcuhtli laughed. <span style="color: #009999">Oh, dear. You humans have such a limited understanding of divinity… well, a limited understanding of most anything, really. What will it take for you to realize that we are not bound by duality? We <em>are</em> duality, and we are also beyond it. And so are you, sometimes. Your friend Guadalupe sure knows that.</span></p> <p>"Sorry, you know Guadalupe?"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Child, I know everyone who has ever been born and will ever die. I am the god of death, remember? I also know why you are here, why my wife sent you. Walk with me, will you?</span></p> <p>She and Mictlāntēcuhtli walked side by side through the lowest layer of Mictlán, the god occasionally turning to tend to one of the strange flowers that covered every inch of the grove. Meanwhile, Cristina opened her arms and allowed the butterflies to land on her, giggling like a little child as they tickled her skin with their delicate legs and wings.</p> <p>"What is this place?" she asked in wonder.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">This is the Garden of Eternity. It is the first place that came to be after the gods dismembered Cipactli and made the world from her flesh. It is the place all life stems from: every flower you see is a soul about to be born, and it is my job to make sure that they all bloom. Nothing can exist without this grove, without my care. That is why I remain here, to upkeep both the beginning and the end.</span></p> <p>"And the butterflies?" Cristina asked.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">The <em>papalotl</em> — the butterflies and moths — are the souls who have chosen to be reborn and help me with my task. Such is the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. This, Cristina, is what you and I and everyone in Mictlán are fighting for.</span></p> <p>Cristina said nothing, merely assenting with solemnity. She knew the god could see the restlessness of her soul, the weight under which she struggled. She did not want to admit it, but the truth kept pushing its way up her throat, fighting against her fear of being labeled a coward, entangled with her dread for what would happen if she failed.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">You are afraid</span>, Mictlāntēcuhtli noticed. Her voice betrayed no judgement or blame, or sympathy for that matter. <span style="color: #009999">Good. Now you see what is truly at stake: the very existence of life.</span></p> <p>"I don't know if I can do this, my Lord," Cristina said with a voice that was beginning to fray. The butterflies left her body and fluttered back towards the flowers. "I don't know if I'll be able to stop them. What if Valravn wins? What if they take over this place?"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Then the cycle is broken. Then the place of eternal rest is no more. And the Fifth Sun ends.</span></p> <p>"No… you cannot mean…"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Yes</span>, Mictlāntēcuhtli calmly responded like a parent warning their child about the consequences of disobedience. <span style="color: #009999">If Mictlán falls — if the Garden is despoiled — then the world must be sundered. There cannot be life without an afterlife, and thus I will shatter the foundations of Creation and tear down the Pillars of the Earth. Mankind will end with a mighty quake, and the void will swallow it all. Only then will the world be reborn, so that the cycle may start anew.</span></p> <p>"But I… but we—"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">You have a chance, Cristina, to save everything you love, everyone who matters in your life, and countless more. That is the mission you volunteered for, the true calling of your struggle. Do you think you are the first to face impossible odds? Do you believe yours is the only blood that has been called forth to sacrifice? We gods gave our flesh, our lives, our very essence — all so you could breathe, so you could live your lives under a sun.</span></p> <p>She raised her arms to the blue moon with reverence, her crimson eyes glowing purple as they drank its light.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Even she, our lady Coyolxāuhqui, was sacrificed at the altar of her brother so that the Sun would have someone to light the darkness of night. Here she comes at every dawn — dead and dismembered, yet beating with life — to await Tōnatiuh,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup> for he too dies every twilight to make way for her in the heavens. That is their sacrifice, as has been ours every time we've remade the world. And it is also the sacrifice that the Pale Lady and I have made every day for the last two centuries.</span></p> <p>"Is that why you are not with her?" Cristina ventured. "Is that why you do not stay up there with her?"</p> <p>Mictlāntēcuhtli shifted into a pale man drenched in shadow and blood, then into a flaming skeleton, and back into a woman. Every shape had the same sadness in its eyes, the same longing Cristina had perceived when talking to la Santa Muerte.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Mictēcacihuātl and I agreed that the world needed her more and more every day</span>, he said solemnly. <span style="color: #009999">We watched in horror during the Conquest, bound by our fellow gods not to interfere even as our halls swelled with souls cut down in the slaughter. Our children begged us for help, but even Xolotl was not allowed to travel upstairs to protect them. When it was all done, my beloved was a sea of tears and anguish, tormented by the cries of generations ravaged and enslaved under the conquistadors' scourge.</span></p> <p>The woman paused and gazed back at the unmoving core of her wife, the piece of her she had left behind for Mictlāntēcuhtli to cherish and protect, to love and remember. Cristina had never seen a god in mourning.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">One day, those who still remembered her — the few who had not had our names stamped out of their faith — decided to worship her in secret. She was like a mother to them, and thus they honored her even though they were forced to dress her in the robes of a foreign virgin, even though they had to give her a new name: <em>la Santa Muerte</em>. It was then that she decided to go upstairs, to again interfere with the affairs of mankind.</span></p> <p>"But part of her stayed here," Cristina gasped, realizing the truth of the goddess' sacrifice. "Her core, her true name and nature… she's still here with you."</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">In a way</span>, the god agreed. <span style="color: #009999">Her essence and true power remain here to watch over the bones that make the Pillars, to keep me company. But her words, her voice… those must remain in the fields of <em>cempasúchil</em>. They need her there. She changed and adapted and created a new disguise for herself so that she would be allowed beyond the Veil, so that she could touch the hearts of people who do not remember who she really is. I cannot follow — there is no new name for me — but I will always stand watch over her while she dreams of being with you.</span></p> <p>"Mictlāntēcuhtli, my Lord… I don't know what to say—"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Then say nothing. <em>Act</em>, Cristina. Sacrifice, even if it kills you for the rest of your life. At least this place will remain for your soul to be cleansed and given rest. At least you will not suffer in vain. This is the way of the gods, and it is also the way of humans who desire peace and justice.</span></p> <p>"They have gods on their side too," Cristina lamented. "Valravn is coming at us with weapons forged with divine knowledge."</p> <p>The god scoffed, her laughter a corrosive sound that betrayed nothing but contempt.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Do you really think Odin is happy with them? Do you think Huītzilōpōchtli is pleased that his power is being used against his siblings? There is no honor in any of this, only avarice, only mindless profiteering. Gods abhor the sin of greed, but we are bound by the rules of faith and worship; we cannot deny our power to those who follow our rituals. We can, however, give them but crumbs of our true strength — we can conspire amongst ourselves to ensure that they fail.</span></p> <p>"They still have guns and ammo, and troops — hundreds of them! They will come with their full strength and won't stop until they've conquered the afterlife."</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">And still, they will fail. They are empty creatures, Cristina. They claim to serve the gods, but they only worship the dark greed whose blood is running cash. They bow down to a demon of electricity and banks, to the insatiable stream of consumption. Theirs is a cannibal dynamo that would burn down all of creation just to make imaginary numbers dance. Their faith is money, and money has no power here.</span></p> <p>"How many will we lose?" Cristina asked the god of death. She could already hear the marching boots of Valravn soldiers, see the glint of their guns before they unloaded consecrated bullets upon the defenders of the underworld. The words choked her, the crushing weight of responsibility and duty growing unbearable. "How many will be sacrificed to save this place?"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">However many we need to save countless others</span>, she responded. <span style="color: #009999">And we must live with those sacrifices, with the knowledge that they were necessary. For them.</span></p> <p>The god turned to the flowers, Cristina following him with her eyes. The vibrant colors shifted and pulsed, teeming with souls yet to be delivered upon the world of the living, awaiting their promised lives in the sun. They were beautiful, pure and innocent— and Valravn would have it all burn for a fistful of dollars. A feeling made of thorns and shrapnel grew in her stomach, crawling its way up and down her body like the roots of an unnatural tree. What the ravens would do to this place, to the souls gone and yet to come, was beyond monstrous. She could not allow it. She <em>would not</em> allow it.</p> <p>Even as fear of failure writhed in her heart, the beast that was righteous anger clawed its way up to ensnare and dominate it, to drown the fear with its steel tendrils. The great tree of wrath that was within Cristina grew and grew, its canopy a shield against the doubt she had experienced ever since she realized the true scope of her mission: too much was at stake, and too much had been sacrificed already. She could await Valravn in fear, cowering as they marched over the fields of golden flowers — or she could go down taking as many of them with her as her strength and the blessing of her gods would allow.</p> <p>Cristina had seen the origin of Creation, ground zero of the miracle that was life. Here, in the Land of the Dead, the living and the unborn would make their final stand against the modern conquistadores, against the evil of greed. She would be at the forefront, her friends and the gods beside her, her faith giving her the strength to overcome. <em>Aquí se respira lucha.</em></p> <p>"Lord of Mictlán!" she called to the god of death. "I will stand with you and your lady at the gates of paradise. I will fight!"</p> <p>Mictlāntēcuhtli's gaze met hers, crimson eyes peeling every layer of her to gaze at the naked truth, at the strength that would uphold her even as everything else fell down. The god smiled.</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">So be it, Cristina Cisneros, child of Abya Yala. I will be with you, in victory or defeat, until the Pillars crumble in my grasp.</span></p> <p>Cristina wished to reply, to thank the god for their wisdom, for showing her the reason why she fought, but she felt weightless, untethered as if awakening from a dream, her mind reaching out to grasp what those few precious instants before her eyes opened to greet daylight. Moments later, she realized that her feet no longer touched the floor: she was hovering amidst a cloud of butterflies, their wings creating a living kaleidoscope that took her up towards the impossibly distant world above the Garden. She tried to protest, to resist the colorful whirlwind of joyous souls, but Mictlāntēcuhtli simply smiled and waved her goodbye – their time together was at an end.</p> <p>"She wanted me to tell you!" Cristina exclaimed as she swam away into the darkness, the butterflies guiding her path back to the Pale Lady. "She wanted you to know that she still remembers what the stars taste like!"</p> <p><span style="color: #009999">Of course she does!</span> Mictlāntēcuhtli laughed joyfully. <span style="color: #009999">They were my gift for her on our wedding!</span></p> <p>Cristina smiled. Her heart felt light within her chest even though the stakes remained the same – she knew that the path ahead could only be walked in the shadow of loss and pain, and that any victory would come at the cost of spilled blood and bitter tears. Still, hope was a strong thing, its power as mighty as the Pillars that upheld the world, as eternal as the gods who stood alongside her. When the time came, she and her friends would stand firm, fighting to their very last breath for Mictlán, for Abya Yala, for all of humanity. Such was their mission, the destiny they had chosen, the faith they had made their own.</p> <p>As the moon grew closer, larger, Cristina looked back one more time towards the Garden— and she almost fell back down in shock. There, bathed in moonlight, cross-legged in the nothingness, a titanic turquoise skeleton gazed back at her with eyes as deep as <em>cenotes</em>, as alien and beautiful as souls yet to be born. Covered head to toe in armor fashioned out of ash and shadow, he radiated with a power greater than any king or warrior, deadlier than the looming onslaught of the Ravens, warmer than a hand held out in kindness. His bony palms held the Garden of Eternity — and the core of his beloved wife — in a perpetual embrace of love and protection, standing guard below so that she could rule above. Within his open maw, behind teeth the size of mountains, glowed every star in the night sky: a whole galaxy in a single kiss.</p> <p>Mictlāntēcuhtli, Lord of the Dead, keeper of eternal life, silently bid Cristina goodbye.<br/> <br/></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Árboles Bajo La Tierra"> <p><a href="/arboles-bajo-la-tierra">Árboles Bajo La Tierra</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Of Ravens and Vypers."> <p><a href="/our-open-veins-hub">Of Ravens and Vypers.</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Coming Soon!"> <p><a href="/">Coming Soon!</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/pilares">Pilares</a>" by Din-Bidor, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/pilares">https://scpwiki.com/pilares</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. "Old, old god" or "Very old god," Huehueteotl is the ancient god of fire and of the family hearth, represented as an elderly deity wearing a stone brazier as a crown.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. <em>Nextepehua.</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. <em>Ixpuztec.</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. The Fifth Sun.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:old-money-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:old-money-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:dia-de-muertos">:scp-wiki:theme:dia-de-muertos</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Cristina sipped her chocolate, briefly clenching her jaw as the scalding liquid scorched her tongue before disappearing down her throat, the sweetness of the drink lingering over the agony of her gums. She was almost too distracted to notice it, too enraptured by a worry that grew heavier with every passing day — or whatever the cycles of light and dark were called in Mictlán. Still, she let out a tiny moan as she put down the cup and sadly gazed towards the labyrinthine necropolis that served as the center of the underworld. "Too hot?" the Pale Lady asked. She sat across from her, sipping from her own cup and taking small bites from the sugary //pan de muerto// that a xolotl server had brought them. "I apologize, dear. Huehueteotl[[footnote]] "Old, old god" or "Very old god," Huehueteotl is the ancient god of fire and of the family hearth, represented as an elderly deity wearing a stone brazier as a crown. [[/footnote]] sometimes gets a bit too excited when I ask to borrow fire from him." "No, no," Cristina resurfaced from her sickened reverie. "It's fine, really. I'm only a bit... distracted." "Still thinking of the battle to come?" la Santa Muerte smiled. Her expression was not one of joy. "I figured it would get to you eventually: the worst part is always the wait." Cristina turned to the sprawling city of stone and shadow, feeling like it could collapse into rubble at any moment and entomb her under the weight of countless souls condemned to whatever monstrous fate Valravn had for them. In her mind she could already hear their screams, the lamentations of generations torn from eternal rest and enslaved under the heel of the ravens' endless greed. If the corporation had its way, if she could not stop their conquest of the underworld, then everything that she and her comrades had fought for would be in vain. It was the fate of all mortals to one day die — but with no afterlife to receive them, where would they go now? This fight was no longer a matter of life or death: it was so much more, so much worse. Iron talons had closed over her heart, slowly squeezing it and prolonging her agony. "Pale Lady, I don't mean any disrespect, but how can you be so calm about this?" Cristina despaired. She scratched her arm to keep herself from pulling at her hair, leaving reddish streaks across her skin. "The fate of Mictlán, of all the souls here... it's all at stake and we're here drinking chocolate and enjoying the view!" "Cristina," la Muerte called. "Do you not trust your friends? Do you not trust yourself?" "Of course I do. We will fight to the very end!" Cristina said, her voice almost broken under the strain. "But every day that passes I grow more and more worried. What if it's not enough? Lorena, Baruch and Ramírez... we all took it unto ourselves to fight and die, if that's what it'll take to stop Valravn, but what about the others? What about your people — //our// people? If we fail, if we lose... what becomes of them?" The Pale Lady did not answer. She gazed into her cup of chocolate, deep in thought. A strange light glimmered in her eyes, refracted like a constellation on her irises. In those stars, Cristina could divine sadness and worry, concern intermingling with hope, and something else that she had never thought a goddess of death could experience: longing. "There is something I would like you to see... someone I would like you to meet. They are an old friend of mine," she said at last. Her voice was like a mournful lullaby, like a bittersweet poem whispered to no one. "You will find them in the deepest layer of Mictlán, where even I may not venture." "Pale Lady..." Cristina started, but she was cut off when Death lifted one of her bony fingers. "I want you to know the true height of our stakes, //mi niña//, not for you to worry more, but for you to //overcome// it. A leader cannot allow the thought of defeat to cloud their mind, and a god cannot forsake its children even when all is lost; I hope my friend can show you this truth. Now go — I'll have one of the //alebrijes// guide you. And Cristina... when you see them, please tell them that I still remember what the stars taste like." ------ Cristina followed the owl //alebrije// into the mouth of the cavern, chasing its iridescent plumage deeper into the dark. Shadows grew thick, almost solid, as she waded through that unknown layer of the underworld: far beneath the //cempasúchil// fields, deeper than the foundations of the stone necropolis. Down here, silence reigned absolute but for the sound of her footsteps and the faint echo of flapping wings. The air smelled of wet earth and hidden things, of cold ash and drowned light. She stopped for a moment and touched the ground: it was tender soil, black earth that crawled with tiny blind creatures — life at its most primal. This was a sacred place, Death had told her, a place of stillness and perpetuity, of latent change: the very bottom of Creation. Far beyond her sight in the uninterrupted blackness, colossal Pillars supported an impossibly far-away ceiling, layers upon layers of reality, worlds entire. On their cold surfaces were carved the countless stories of those who had come before, of those whose bones rested forever in vaulted halls— the living and the dead and those yet to be born, their lives forever remembered and honored. Eternity started //here//, sprawling in every direction until dust became galaxies, until word became flesh, until it all collapsed back into primal matter to be reborn anew. Cristina could not see the Pillars. She could not drag her fingers along the names and lives that they guarded, nor could she fathom their true nature, but she could //feel// them. They stood at the edge of the abyss, silently chanting the names of things and peoples, reaching for their hearts so they would not forget the place all life came from and to where it would all one day return. This place was forever, like the gods who moistened the earth with their blood to give it shape and life. The Pillars were the bones that upheld the living craft of the divine, the metaphysical embodiment of godly law, the universal constant whose name Cristina knew to be Nahui Ollin— eternal movement, perpetual cycle. The owl hooted, beckoning her to keep walking. She stood and saw cold, blue light. A soft sound of running water reached her ears, and a gust of wind caressed her skin, dancing its way through her hair. She could feel it calling: an exit cut into the darkness, an entrance to the place that stood beyond the reach of even Death herself. Her destination stood straight ahead. It took her a long moment to notice the shadow, the great mound of darkness that watched her with empty eye sockets full of stars. The crackling air came and went through its nostrils, out of its toothy jaws whose bite was lightning. Slowly, it stood upright, and Cristina choked a scream as her mind finally understood what she was seeing, as the god reared its monstrous head. The hairless dog, chief psychopomp and herald of Mictlán, stood ten meters tall and towered over her with an inscrutable expression. His vacant sockets seemed to stare all the way into her soul, and Cristina could tell that it would take but a thought for him to strip her down to ashes and bone. "[[[https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/cempasuchil \| Xolotl...]]]" Cristina gasped, for she knew the god's name and nature. Cautiously, she bowed her head— it is unwise not to show respect when meeting yet another face of death. ##009999\|Yes##, a voice said from beyond the light. ##009999\|Not just a xolotl, but //the// Xolotl: he whose gifts are plague and thunder, lord of monsters, twin brother of the Feathered Serpent. Do not worry, he only bites uninvited guests— and you, Cristina Cisneros, have been long awaited here.## Startled, Cristina turned towards the place the words had come from, then back to Xolotl, whose gaze now betrayed nothing but mild curiosity. ##006699\|Go##, he yawned with a mouth full of stone-like teeth. ##006699\|I am only here to keep him company. I promise I won't snoop... well, maybe a little.## Cristina hesitatingly bowed again, not knowing how else to say goodbye to the dog god. Then she walked towards the cavern's end — the place beyond the Pillars — and stepped into the light. ------ Cristina found herself at the entrance of a grove shaped like a half-moon and carved into a mountainside, soaked in blue moonlight. Far above her head, the night aster shone so brightly that its luminescence threatened to swallow the stars spread around it like silvery fish in an ocean of ink. Gentle streams of crystalline water rippled their way down the stone walls, their path lined by moss and small greenery in full bloom: all throughout the grove, countless flowers grew with colors that the human eye had never known, so beautiful and strange that it hurt to look at them for more than a few seconds, an alien bouquet that seemed to overtake it all. Cristina swore she could almost hear faint whispers emanating from them, their buds and petals fluttering ever so slightly in the gentle wind that blew from a direction she could not pinpoint. Encircled by water and flora, a gigantic and vaguely humanoid statue in the shape of a strange, cadaverous god presided over the valley. It sat on a throne made of what Cristina identified as weathered bone, its skeletal features overgrown by gnarled vines and roots, golden //cempasúchil// flowers flourishing all over its petrified form. Around it hovered a swarm of butterflies, their wings gently flapping as they landed on the flowers and took flight anew, gently caressing the statue as though paying tribute to it. There were hundreds of them: monarch butterflies with fiery wings, swallowtails in gallant yellow and black, blue morphos who matched the moon in beauty — even [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-553 \|crystal-like butterflies]]] and [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2332 \| strange black ones]]] who Cristina swore she had only seen in dreams. Upon closer inspection, Cristina realized that it was not a statue at all: beneath the rock and the overgrowth, unmoving and unblinking, a set of crimson eyes watched the grove and its visitor. Living flesh breathed in silence, pulsing with divine power as its blood fed the flowers that grew upon its great form and through its ancient bones. In absolute stillness, the god stood vigilant over the sacred garden — over its tomb. ##009999\|Beautiful, is she not? Even diminished as she is now, nothing can eclipse her.## Cristina turned around and saw a tall, olive-skinned woman with waist-long black hair, her regal dress cut and fashioned from the substance of night itself. A necklace of pearls adorned her neck, her lips painted with the most sanguine tone of red. Perched on her shoulder, the owl //alebrije// — the //tecolote// — cooed softly. "I'm sorry, 'she'?" Cristina was startled. ##009999\|Yes, she. My beloved Mictēcacihuātl, Our Lady of Bones##, the woman replied. ##009999\|Though I believe you know her as La Santa Muerte.## "Wait, this is the Pale Lady?" Confusion grew as she again gazed at the deity who sat immobile at the center of the grove. "But how? It was she who sent me down here..." ##009999\|Gods are strange creatures with many aspects.## The woman took a handful of black soil and lifted it to the //alebrije//, who happily probed it for worms. ##009999\|We trade faces, we change shapes, yet we remain true at the core of our being. We are the constants of the universe, yet the only constant for us is the role we play for eternity. This is who she once was — who she still is. Did the Pale Lady not tell you this?## "She said she had a friend down here," Cristina mused. Hadn't Xolotl said he was keeping //him// company? Who was "him"? Suddenly, a strange realization came over her, and she asked: "Are you her?" ##009999\|Her?## The creature in guise of a mortal woman laughed, caressing the //alebrije// one last time before it took flight. ##009999\|Oh, I am many things. Him, her, they... I am whatever the situation calls for. I am the one who watches over my beloved's core while she rules above. I am the guardian of eternal rest. I am the Scatterer of Ashes.[[footnote]] //Nextepehua.// [[/footnote]] I am the one with the Broken Face.[[footnote]] //Ixpuztec.// [[/footnote]] But mostly, I am Death.## "By the gods!" Cristina blurted out. "You are Mictlāntēcuhtli!" ##009999\|In the flesh##, he responded. ##009999\|Well, so to speak. I have never really had much flesh to begin with.## The woman's form stretched and twisted. Her flesh turned and melted, evaporating to reveal nothing underneath but elder bones dressed with an ornate loincloth and an elaborate headdress of obsidian feathers. Mictlāntēcuhtli's skeletal form was adorned with a necklace made of human eyeballs where the pearls had once been, her (or his) crimson gaze piercing into Cristina. She could feel the god's real form pulsing somewhere behind the avatars he had fashioned, the truth of his nature a mind-shattering thing that few mortals could fathom. He opened his arms as if showing off his power — his morbid beauty — before shifting back into the woman's visage. ##009999\|Something tells me I'm not what you expected##, the god slyly pointed out. "No, no, it's just..." Cristina tripped over her words. "I did not expect you to be... well, to show up like—" ##009999\|Like a woman?## Mictlāntēcuhtli laughed. ##009999\|Oh, dear. You humans have such a limited understanding of divinity... well, a limited understanding of most anything, really. What will it take for you to realize that we are not bound by duality? We //are// duality, and we are also beyond it. And so are you, sometimes. Your friend Guadalupe sure knows that.## "Sorry, you know Guadalupe?" ##009999\|Child, I know everyone who has ever been born and will ever die. I am the god of death, remember? I also know why you are here, why my wife sent you. Walk with me, will you?## She and Mictlāntēcuhtli walked side by side through the lowest layer of Mictlán, the god occasionally turning to tend to one of the strange flowers that covered every inch of the grove. Meanwhile, Cristina opened her arms and allowed the butterflies to land on her, giggling like a little child as they tickled her skin with their delicate legs and wings. "What is this place?" she asked in wonder. ##009999\|This is the Garden of Eternity. It is the first place that came to be after the gods dismembered Cipactli and made the world from her flesh. It is the place all life stems from: every flower you see is a soul about to be born, and it is my job to make sure that they all bloom. Nothing can exist without this grove, without my care. That is why I remain here, to upkeep both the beginning and the end.## "And the butterflies?" Cristina asked. ##009999\|The //papalotl// — the butterflies and moths — are the souls who have chosen to be reborn and help me with my task. Such is the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. This, Cristina, is what you and I and everyone in Mictlán are fighting for.## Cristina said nothing, merely assenting with solemnity. She knew the god could see the restlessness of her soul, the weight under which she struggled. She did not want to admit it, but the truth kept pushing its way up her throat, fighting against her fear of being labeled a coward, entangled with her dread for what would happen if she failed. ##009999\|You are afraid##, Mictlāntēcuhtli noticed. Her voice betrayed no judgement or blame, or sympathy for that matter. ##009999\|Good. Now you see what is truly at stake: the very existence of life.## "I don't know if I can do this, my Lord," Cristina said with a voice that was beginning to fray. The butterflies left her body and fluttered back towards the flowers. "I don't know if I'll be able to stop them. What if Valravn wins? What if they take over this place?" ##009999\|Then the cycle is broken. Then the place of eternal rest is no more. And the Fifth Sun ends.## "No... you cannot mean..." ##009999\|Yes##, Mictlāntēcuhtli calmly responded like a parent warning their child about the consequences of disobedience. ##009999\|If Mictlán falls — if the Garden is despoiled — then the world must be sundered. There cannot be life without an afterlife, and thus I will shatter the foundations of Creation and tear down the Pillars of the Earth. Mankind will end with a mighty quake, and the void will swallow it all. Only then will the world be reborn, so that the cycle may start anew.## "But I... but we—" ##009999\|You have a chance, Cristina, to save everything you love, everyone who matters in your life, and countless more. That is the mission you volunteered for, the true calling of your struggle. Do you think you are the first to face impossible odds? Do you believe yours is the only blood that has been called forth to sacrifice? We gods gave our flesh, our lives, our very essence — all so you could breathe, so you could live your lives under a sun.## She raised her arms to the blue moon with reverence, her crimson eyes glowing purple as they drank its light. ##009999\|Even she, our lady Coyolxāuhqui, was sacrificed at the altar of her brother so that the Sun would have someone to light the darkness of night. Here she comes at every dawn — dead and dismembered, yet beating with life — to await Tōnatiuh,[[footnote]] The Fifth Sun. [[/footnote]] for he too dies every twilight to make way for her in the heavens. That is their sacrifice, as has been ours every time we've remade the world. And it is also the sacrifice that the Pale Lady and I have made every day for the last two centuries.## "Is that why you are not with her?" Cristina ventured. "Is that why you do not stay up there with her?" Mictlāntēcuhtli shifted into a pale man drenched in shadow and blood, then into a flaming skeleton, and back into a woman. Every shape had the same sadness in its eyes, the same longing Cristina had perceived when talking to la Santa Muerte. ##009999\|Mictēcacihuātl and I agreed that the world needed her more and more every day##, he said solemnly. ##009999\|We watched in horror during the Conquest, bound by our fellow gods not to interfere even as our halls swelled with souls cut down in the slaughter. Our children begged us for help, but even Xolotl was not allowed to travel upstairs to protect them. When it was all done, my beloved was a sea of tears and anguish, tormented by the cries of generations ravaged and enslaved under the conquistadors' scourge.## The woman paused and gazed back at the unmoving core of her wife, the piece of her she had left behind for Mictlāntēcuhtli to cherish and protect, to love and remember. Cristina had never seen a god in mourning. ##009999\|One day, those who still remembered her — the few who had not had our names stamped out of their faith — decided to worship her in secret. She was like a mother to them, and thus they honored her even though they were forced to dress her in the robes of a foreign virgin, even though they had to give her a new name: //la Santa Muerte//. It was then that she decided to go upstairs, to again interfere with the affairs of mankind.## "But part of her stayed here," Cristina gasped, realizing the truth of the goddess' sacrifice. "Her core, her true name and nature... she's still here with you." ##009999\|In a way##, the god agreed. ##009999\|Her essence and true power remain here to watch over the bones that make the Pillars, to keep me company. But her words, her voice... those must remain in the fields of //cempasúchil//. They need her there. She changed and adapted and created a new disguise for herself so that she would be allowed beyond the Veil, so that she could touch the hearts of people who do not remember who she really is. I cannot follow — there is no new name for me — but I will always stand watch over her while she dreams of being with you.## "Mictlāntēcuhtli, my Lord... I don't know what to say—" ##009999\|Then say nothing. //Act//, Cristina. Sacrifice, even if it kills you for the rest of your life. At least this place will remain for your soul to be cleansed and given rest. At least you will not suffer in vain. This is the way of the gods, and it is also the way of humans who desire peace and justice.## "They have gods on their side too," Cristina lamented. "Valravn is coming at us with weapons forged with divine knowledge." The god scoffed, her laughter a corrosive sound that betrayed nothing but contempt. ##009999\|Do you really think Odin is happy with them? Do you think Huītzilōpōchtli is pleased that his power is being used against his siblings? There is no honor in any of this, only avarice, only mindless profiteering. Gods abhor the sin of greed, but we are bound by the rules of faith and worship; we cannot deny our power to those who follow our rituals. We can, however, give them but crumbs of our true strength — we can conspire amongst ourselves to ensure that they fail.## "They still have guns and ammo, and troops — hundreds of them! They will come with their full strength and won't stop until they've conquered the afterlife." ##009999\|And still, they will fail. They are empty creatures, Cristina. They claim to serve the gods, but they only worship the dark greed whose blood is running cash. They bow down to a demon of electricity and banks, to the insatiable stream of consumption. Theirs is a cannibal dynamo that would burn down all of creation just to make imaginary numbers dance. Their faith is money, and money has no power here.## "How many will we lose?" Cristina asked the god of death. She could already hear the marching boots of Valravn soldiers, see the glint of their guns before they unloaded consecrated bullets upon the defenders of the underworld. The words choked her, the crushing weight of responsibility and duty growing unbearable. "How many will be sacrificed to save this place?" ##009999\|However many we need to save countless others##, she responded. ##009999\|And we must live with those sacrifices, with the knowledge that they were necessary. For them.## The god turned to the flowers, Cristina following him with her eyes. The vibrant colors shifted and pulsed, teeming with souls yet to be delivered upon the world of the living, awaiting their promised lives in the sun. They were beautiful, pure and innocent— and Valravn would have it all burn for a fistful of dollars. A feeling made of thorns and shrapnel grew in her stomach, crawling its way up and down her body like the roots of an unnatural tree. What the ravens would do to this place, to the souls gone and yet to come, was beyond monstrous. She could not allow it. She //would not// allow it. Even as fear of failure writhed in her heart, the beast that was righteous anger clawed its way up to ensnare and dominate it, to drown the fear with its steel tendrils. The great tree of wrath that was within Cristina grew and grew, its canopy a shield against the doubt she had experienced ever since she realized the true scope of her mission: too much was at stake, and too much had been sacrificed already. She could await Valravn in fear, cowering as they marched over the fields of golden flowers — or she could go down taking as many of them with her as her strength and the blessing of her gods would allow. Cristina had seen the origin of Creation, ground zero of the miracle that was life. Here, in the Land of the Dead, the living and the unborn would make their final stand against the modern conquistadores, against the evil of greed. She would be at the forefront, her friends and the gods beside her, her faith giving her the strength to overcome. //Aquí se respira lucha.// "Lord of Mictlán!" she called to the god of death. "I will stand with you and your lady at the gates of paradise. I will fight!" Mictlāntēcuhtli's gaze met hers, crimson eyes peeling every layer of her to gaze at the naked truth, at the strength that would uphold her even as everything else fell down. The god smiled. ##009999\|So be it, Cristina Cisneros, child of Abya Yala. I will be with you, in victory or defeat, until the Pillars crumble in my grasp.## Cristina wished to reply, to thank the god for their wisdom, for showing her the reason why she fought, but she felt weightless, untethered as if awakening from a dream, her mind reaching out to grasp what those few precious instants before her eyes opened to greet daylight. Moments later, she realized that her feet no longer touched the floor: she was hovering amidst a cloud of butterflies, their wings creating a living kaleidoscope that took her up towards the impossibly distant world above the Garden. She tried to protest, to resist the colorful whirlwind of joyous souls, but Mictlāntēcuhtli simply smiled and waved her goodbye – their time together was at an end. "She wanted me to tell you!" Cristina exclaimed as she swam away into the darkness, the butterflies guiding her path back to the Pale Lady. "She wanted you to know that she still remembers what the stars taste like!" ##009999\|Of course she does!## Mictlāntēcuhtli laughed joyfully. ##009999\|They were my gift for her on our wedding!## Cristina smiled. Her heart felt light within her chest even though the stakes remained the same – she knew that the path ahead could only be walked in the shadow of loss and pain, and that any victory would come at the cost of spilled blood and bitter tears. Still, hope was a strong thing, its power as mighty as the Pillars that upheld the world, as eternal as the gods who stood alongside her. When the time came, she and her friends would stand firm, fighting to their very last breath for Mictlán, for Abya Yala, for all of humanity. Such was their mission, the destiny they had chosen, the faith they had made their own. As the moon grew closer, larger, Cristina looked back one more time towards the Garden— and she almost fell back down in shock. There, bathed in moonlight, cross-legged in the nothingness, a titanic turquoise skeleton gazed back at her with eyes as deep as //cenotes//, as alien and beautiful as souls yet to be born. Covered head to toe in armor fashioned out of ash and shadow, he radiated with a power greater than any king or warrior, deadlier than the looming onslaught of the Ravens, warmer than a hand held out in kindness. His bony palms held the Garden of Eternity — and the core of his beloved wife — in a perpetual embrace of love and protection, standing guard below so that she could rule above. Within his open maw, behind teeth the size of mountains, glowed every star in the night sky: a whole galaxy in a single kiss. Mictlāntēcuhtli, Lord of the Dead, keeper of eternal life, silently bid Cristina goodbye. @@@@ @@@@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false\| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/arboles-bajo-la-tierra \| previous-title=Árboles Bajo La Tierra \| next-url=/ \| next-title=Coming Soon! \| hub-url=our-open-veins-hub/ \| hub-title=Of Ravens and Vypers. ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-05T03:40:00	[ "_licensebox", "afterlife", "fantasy", "mythological", "our-open-veins", "tale", "valravn" ]	Pilares - SCP Foundation	18	[ "scp-553", "scp-2332", "arboles-bajo-la-tierra", "our-open-veins-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "our-open-veins-hub", "canon-hub" ]	[]	1448289996	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/pilares
pleasing-to-the-eye	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>He gestured downwards, into the pit in the center of the room. At the bottom was a white marble sculpture of a man, sitting slumped against the side of the pit.</p> </div> <p>Alexander Cushing was a gracious host.</p> <p>It wasn't necessary to have the art dealer fly all the way to New England. They could have made the exchange through intermediaries, without ever meeting in person. But that felt too cold and impersonal for Cushing, so he invited Gianni Ferraro to deliver the piece in person.</p> <p>If Cushing was completely honest with himself, he had a selfish motivation behind inviting the man into his home. His greatest problem as a collector of anomalous art was that there were so few people it could be shown to. Of course, Cushing had no interest in the opinion of the general public - the whole point was that it was literally beyond their comprehension. However, Gianni Ferraro had expressed interest in Cushing's collection the last time they'd spoken, and Cushing was interested to hear his opinion after he'd seen it for himself.</p> <p>Ferraro strolled into Cushing's entrance hall with the confidence of a man at home anywhere. He was a pale man with dark hair, dressed in an expensive black Italian suit, with the jacket unbuttoned over a crisp white shirt.</p> <p>Cushing himself was there to welcome him, as two porters carefully carried a well-wrapped canvas into his manor. "Gianni! I am so pleased that you could come in person."</p> <p>Ferraro smiled warmly back at him. "Alex, the pleasure is all mine. I am very eager to see your collection."</p> <p>Cushing nodded. "Would you prefer to have some refreshments first?"</p> <p>Ferraro shook his head. "Perhaps later." He gestured at the covered painting, still held by the porters that had followed him into the hallway. "I would like to ensure this canvas is safely in place first."</p> <p>Cushing smiled back at him. "You could have just said you were eager to see my collection. I'd understand."</p> <p>Ferraro laughed. "Well, you have already told me all about it. I need to see if it lives up to expectations."</p> <p>Cushing walked towards a side door, and one of the two men in suits that accompanied him everywhere opened the door ahead of him, the other following just behind Ferraro, in front of the porters carrying the painting. They headed down the corridor, and entered a room painted white.</p> <p>One wall was empty except for a door. To the left was a haunting collection of six photographic portraits of women and children, monochrome against a black background and gazing intently at the camera. To the right was a hellscape.</p> <p>To Cushing's surprise, Ferraro seemed more interested in the six portraits than in the painting opposite them. He looked at each of the faces in turn.</p> <p>"They're different every time," said Cushing. "All refugees, or so the artist claimed. Hard to verify, but it seems to check out. It would have ended up as an anomalous object in some Foundation warehouse, or perhaps incinerated by the Coalition, but I managed to get my hands on it first."</p> <p>Ferraro turned to the opposite wall, and began scrutinizing the painting. The overall style was reminiscent of Hieronymus Bosch, depicting torments worthy of Dante's Inferno in excruciating detail. On close inspection, familiar faces could be seen.</p> <p>"There I am," said Cushing with mild amusement, pointing at a painted figure strongly resembling him. "Naked and in a pit, the subject of scorn and mockery. I suppose it thinks that's a fitting punishment."</p> <p>He turned to Ferraro. "You'll be on there too, you know. That's how it works."</p> <p>Ferraro scanned the painting, then pointed at a pale and emaciated figure, flagellating himself with a whip. On closer inspection the whip was actually a black serpent, fangs tearing into flesh. "That'll be me."</p> <p>Cushing looked on with amusement. "So it is. Well, I wouldn't ask a personal question, but…"</p> <p>"I'm my own worst enemy." Ferraro said this with a smile, then began looking around the room.</p> <p>"The rest of my collection is downstairs, Mr Ferraro. I can show you where I intend to place the newest addition in just a moment."</p> <p>He noticed Ferrarro was once again looked intently at the painting, then pointing to a specific section of it. "I found them too!"</p> <p>Cushing noticed him pointing to a pair of muscular men on the canvas, both pierced with arrows fired by demonic archers, frozen in the act of vigorously beating two other dammed souls with spiked clubs. Cushing looked on with confusion.</p> <p>Ferraro frowned. "You don't recognize them..?" He gestured at Cushing's two bodyguards.</p> <p>Cushing finally saw the resemblance. "Huh. I hadn't thought to look for them before… I suppose my whole staff will be on here somewhere." He stepped back, and turned away from the painting.</p> <p>Cushing headed over to the door, his bodyguard in front opening it and walking down the stairs ahead of them. As Cushing entered his gallery below, he turned apologetically to Ferraro. "You'll understand that my collection is a work in progress."</p> <p>Ferraro smiled, and shrugged. "Can any collection ever be complete?"</p> <p>Cushing nodded thoughtfully, and stepped through an open doorway into his basement.</p> <p>The floor was smooth black granite, in stark contrast to the white walls. The room was rectangular, with a square pit in the center, with just enough space around it to enable spectators to feel simultaneously safe and unsafe. On the wall to the left as they came in hung a framed portrait of an elderly woman, who looked back at them with an expression of extreme distress.</p> <p>Cushing nodded politely at her, and her painted eyes blinked.</p> <p>"Unsettling, isn't she?"</p> <p>Ferraro entered behind Cushing, then looked at the painting with interest. The portrait turned her head slightly to stare back at him.</p> <p>Cushing looked on with amusement. "It's possible that she's merely the illusion of a woman, but I prefer to think she really can see out, and nothing else. She's more poetic that way."</p> <p>The portrait continued to stare out at him, expression unchanging.</p> <p>Cushing eventually turned away. "Now, the other exhibit is something you already know. May I present to you - lot twelve!"</p> <p>He gestured downwards, into the pit in the center of the room. It was just deep enough for a person inside to have no hope of reaching the top, the smooth black granite presenting no footholds. At the bottom was a white marble sculpture of a man, sitting slumped against the side of the pit.</p> <p>Ferraro looked on with interest, leaning over the pit to get a better look at its contents.</p> <p>Cushing gestured at the bodyguard who had entered the room last, who flicked a switch on the wall next to the door. A bright spotlight suspended overhead suddenly came on, illuminating the statue with blinding light. There was the loud sound of marble striking granite as the statue flinched, startled by the light, then turned its head away from it, shielding its eyes with its hands. Although carved from white marble, the statue's muscles moved like flesh as it settled into a new position against the side of the pit, facing away from the spotlight overhead.</p> <p>Cushing came over to the edge of the pit, although not as close as Ferraro. "He's pretty still most of the time, unless you can catch him by surprise. I suppose he doesn't have much reason to move. But he can, when he wants to. He broke two arms and one leg as we were putting him in there."</p> <p>Cushing said this with an affectionate tone, looking down at his exhibit in the same way another man might regard a particularly exotic pet.</p> <p>"It was much more interesting at first - he'd pace, and occasionally pound on the walls, or try to climb out. I was actually worried he might damage himself. But he calmed down after a few weeks. It's less exciting, but I sometimes come down here just to watch him. He's so… peaceful."</p> <p>Ferraro asked, "You ever think about climbing down, to sit with him a while?"</p> <p>Cushing laughed. "He's 500 pounds of marble. He'd crack my skull with one blow!"</p> <p>Ferraro smiled. "Buyer beware."</p> <p>Cushing threw up his hands. "Exactly as advertised. I wouldn't have it any other way."</p> <p>The two porters had begun to hang the canvas on the wall, in a prepared location on the wall adjacent to the portrait. Ferraro gestured to the empty wall opposite the portrait. "I'm wondering about the other piece you were interested in. It feels like it would have fit into the same collection - did someone outbid you?"</p> <p>"Oh, you didn't hear?" asked Cushing. "I suppose you did leave early - the other piece I was interested in was stolen."</p> <p>Ferraro raised a curious eyebrow. "Stolen?"</p> <p>"Yes, very melodramatic. Nothing but a empty piece of skin, the tattoo that was on it completely missing. Right under the guard's noses, and of course, no cameras."</p> <p>Ferraro looked puzzled. "A real mystery?"</p> <p>Cushing shrugged. "Hardly. They were probably in on it. Paid off." He leaned towards Ferraro and lowered his voice, as if to avoid being heard by his servants. "Personally, I wouldn't put it past Messrs Marshal, Carter and Dark to have it stolen from themselves. The illicit element gives art a certain mystique."</p> <p>Ferraro looked skeptical. "As if artwork inscribed on flayed human skin is so… mundane."</p> <p>Cushing smiled. "Mister Ferraro, it was well done. For a tattoo. But I am not easily impressed."</p> <p>Ferraro walked over towards the covered canvas, which the porters had now placed against the wall opposite the door, still covered by a cream cloth. "Well then, I hope I will not disappoint you. When I came across this piece, I felt it would be a perfect addition to your collection."</p> <p>Cushing approached, flanked by his two bodyguards, facing away from the pit behind him. Further back, closer to the door and standing well away from the pit, the two porters looked on with interest.</p> <p>Ferraro frowned. "I was not expecting this large an audience."</p> <p>Cushing glanced behind him, and gestured to the porters. "You can leave now." They quickly hurried out of the basement.</p> <p>Ferraro began his preamble once they had left. "Now, the painting itself is oil on canvas, imitating the style of the Dutch marine artworks of the 17th Century. However, I can date the canvas of this specific piece to the 19th century, and so this is clearly a later reproduction - although not without its own artistic merit. I cannot precisely date the brushwork, due to some of the more… original aspects of this specific piece." He paused.</p> <p>Cushing could barely conceal his excitement.</p> <p>Ferraro smiled at him as he began to slowly pull the sheet covering the oil painting aside. "When I saw how the subject matter was depicted, I knew it would make an excellent addition to your collection."</p> <p>The painting he unveiled depicted a small fishing boat in a storm-tossed ocean, beneath a grey sky. The novelty of the piece was the way that it was constantly in motion, wild waves regularly swamping the boat. The crew inside never ceased in their frantic efforts to control the boat, wrestling against the wind and waves for control and bailing out buckets of water, the oil paint of the sea and sky silently swirling and flowing as if it were still liquid.</p> <p>The most fascinating aspect of the work was that it did not seem to repeat. Each wave, each gale, and each reaction seemed entirely unique and surprising. The small boat was continually on the edge of capsizing, but never quite tipped over entirely.</p> <p>The overall effect was to immerse the viewer entirely in the small world of constant motion depicted within the frame. A world that was literally nauseating.</p> <p>Cushing bent over and slowly vomited onto the black granite floor. His bodyguards turned towards him, but both of them staggered, clearly also unwell and unsteady on their feet.</p> <p>Their portrait on the wall continued to stare at them, expression unchanging.</p> <p>Gianni Ferraro stepped over and steadied one of the bodyguards by placing his left hand on the man's shoulder.</p> <p>Then, with his right hand, he pulled a switchblade out of the inside of his jacket, and cut the man's throat. Red blood splatted across his white shirt and black jacket, as he reached down towards the holster at the man's belt.</p> <p>The other guard reacted immediately, but even though he was no longer looking at it, the seascape had a lingering effect. He was too preoccupied with the effort of standing upright to be able to take aim with his own pistol fast enough.</p> <p>The man who called himself Ferraro had carefully avoided looking at the image, and had no such difficulty as he drew the first guard's pistol from his belt. As the first guard's body fell backwards onto the floor, his killer dropped the bloodstained knife, held the pistol in both hands, and fired three shots.</p> <p>Cushing's second bodyguard toppled over backward, blood soaking his chest as he fell to the floor. The back of his head loudly made contact with the granite.</p> <p>Cushing, vomit still staining his chin, staggered away in fright, falling to the ground dangerously close to the edge of the pit.</p> <p>Two more shots were fired, each shot carefully aimed at the heads of each of his bodyguards. Neither would be getting up again.</p> <p>"Oh God," groaned Cushing, feeling sick with both terror and the lingering effects of the painting he'd been exposed to.</p> <p>The pale face of the man he'd let into his home looked down at him, the pistol now pointing directly at him. Cushing scrambled back, then realized he was right on the edge of the pit, and froze.</p> <p>The man in the bloodstained suit now aimed the pistol at him with only his right hand, and gestured upwards with the barrel. "Get up."</p> <p>Cushing struggled to obey. The fact that his eyes were fixed on the man and not on the painting behind him made it easier to comply, although he was still unsteady on his feet. The man was too far away from him for Cushing to stand a chance of rushing him, and clearly had no qualms against violence. Cushing's best hope was to comply, and hope this maniac could be reasoned with.</p> <p>"Now, whatever you want, I'm sure I can -"</p> <p>The man took a step closer to him, and thrust forwards his left hand. Cushing flinched, but it seemed the man was merely doing it to expose the skin on his forearm.</p> <p>He smiled, the same smile with which he'd greeted Cushing earlier. "Recognise this?"</p> <p>Upon the pale skin of his wrist, something moved. It was the head of the black serpent tattoo that Cushing had once hoped to buy, the one that had been stolen from the art auction where they'd met. The man who'd introduced himself Gianni Ferraro was not a dealer in anomalous art, but a thief, a liar and a killer.</p> <p>He took another step closer to Cushing.</p> <p>"What do you want from me?" asked Cushing, a note of desperation in his voice.</p> <p>In reply, Cushing was shoved into the pit behind him.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The drop was not far, and Cushing managed to break his fall with an outstretched arm. He also broke his wrist, then multiple ribs as he rolled across the granite. He screamed until he ran out of breath, gazing up as the maniac that had pushed him in now calmly looked down at him.</p> <p>Another, even paler face loomed over him, and Cushing closed his eyes, expecting at any moment to feel the sudden impact of marble against his skull.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Nothing happened.</p> <p>Cushing opened his eyes, and glanced around to see that his marble statue had sat back down on the far side of the pit. Cushing was alive. In a lot of pain, but very much alive.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Well, this is awkward." White Crow had honestly not expected Alexander Cushing to survive that.</p> <p>When he'd pushed the man in, he'd thought there'd be a poetic sort of justice in letting the man's own prisoner finish him off. By all accounts, the statue was very capable of doing it - they'd had it in chains at the auction when Cushing had bought it. It just didn't seem to be interested.</p> <p>White Crow began to take aim with his stolen pistol when the basement door opened.</p> <p>He raised the gun towards the door, but quickly lowered it again as he recognised the new arrivals. It was the three members of the Serpent's Nest willing to assist him.</p> <p>Tina came in first. Her entire body was made of silver metal, shimmering as she stepped out of the stairway and into the bright light of the gallery. She was wearing a simple white shirt and trousers, without any shoes. Behind her came Midnight, a small black cat, and Mel, a muscular humanoid bull moose wearing jeans and a red vest shirt. Xe had to twist awkwardly through the doorway to accommodate xer gnarled and mismatched antlers. A coil of thick rope was slung over xer left shoulder.</p> <p>Tina lacked the lungs required for verbal communication, but as soon as Mel closed the door behind them, she drew White Crow's attention by clapping, making a sound like cymbals clashing. She then pointed at him, the canvas, and the bodies on the floor, signing [You said the painting would incapacitate?]. Everyone present knew exactly what she meant.</p> <p>Mel the Manly Moose glanced at the canvas behind White Crow, and gagged, raising a hairy hand to xer mouth. Midnight the cat, in a soft feminine voice that didn't seem to come from her mouth, said simply "Mel, we warned you to be careful." She carefully avoided looking directly at the painting.</p> <p>Tina, as a non-biological entity, had no such problem, and was able to look directly at White Crow, with the disapproving gaze he was so familiar with. He smiled back at her. "It presented an opening."</p> <p>Midnight, with a scolding tone, said "We agreed we'd do this without unnecessary casualties." With Cushing and his staff distracted by White Crow's arrival, it had been a simple matter for her to cloak the Serpent's Nest with magic and walk in through the back door. If she'd been in the basement earlier, there would have been no need for violence.</p> <p>White Crow shrugged, still holding the stolen pistol. "This was necessary." He looked down into the pit in the center of the room, where Cushing lay, breathing heavily, and the marble man sat calmly. He looked up at Tina as she leaned over the pit.</p> <p>Tina frowned, pointing at Cushing. [Why there?]</p> <p>"I pushed him."</p> <p>Mel laughed, but Midnight didn't find it so amusing. "Crow, why?"</p> <p>White Crow carefully considered his words from the other side of the room. "Well, we can't exactly leave him alive after this, can we? He's done too much."</p> <p>Tina glared at him, and gestured at Cushing, who was making noises somewhere between gasps and sobs. [You knew the fall wouldn't kill him.]</p> <p>White Crow frowned. "Well, I assumed our friend down there -"</p> <p>Tina interrupted by clashing her hands together again. She turned to Midnight. [I told you!] She gestured at White Crow, and the gun still held in his hand. [He just wants another weapon.]</p> <p>Mel interrupted. "If we're going to have this argument again, can it wait?" Xe began uncoiling rope. "I could do with some help to get him out of there."</p> <p>Midnight looked up at the ceiling. "Looks like they got the statue in via a rope and pulley. It should hold the weight for us too. But are we sure it's safe?"</p> <p>Mel shrugged as xe placed the coil of rope on the floor next to Midnight. "If he's not attacked the bastard in there with him, I think we'll be fine."</p> <p>With great concentration, Midnight telekinetically raised up one end of the rope. She carefully threaded it through a metal loop on the ceiling, before bringing it back down. Mel grabbed both ends of the rope and gave it a firm tug, before dropping one end of the rope into the pit.</p> <p>The marble man stared intently at the rope that had fallen next to him. Cushing tried to push himself up, before groaning in pain and giving up. Mel glanced down at him. "You can wait. We didn't come here for you."</p> <p>White Crow turned to the marble statue. "You know, it's entirely up to you whether or not he makes it out of there." Tina glared at him as the marble figure stood up. Cushing flinched, gasping with pain, but the statue didn't move any closer to him.</p> <p>He seemed to be unable to speak, but stared expectantly upwards, so Midnight took that as permission and began to telekinetically manipulate the end of the rope in the pit. The marble man flinched as it touched him.</p> <p>Midnight, in a calm and even voice, said "I'm sorry. But we're going to need to use this to get you out of there." It was hard to read the emotions of a statue, but he stood still as Midnight stared intently at the end of the rope, wrapping it around the statue's torso then having the rope tie itself into a knot.</p> <p>Mel, head tilted, was looking over at the portrait of the elderly woman on the wall. It stared back at her. "I'll grab that on the way out. Might also be alive."</p> <p>Tina looked across to the other side of the pit, and made a series of commanding gestures. ["Crow, put the gun down, come over here, and help us.]</p> <p>She noticed he was hesitating, and began walking around the edge of the pit towards him, her metal feet loudly clinking against the granite floor. She was still pointing. [Gun. Down.]</p> <p>White Crow looked down at Alexander Cushing, then shot him in the side of the head, right above the ear. As Tina reached him, he dropped the pistol at her feet.</p> <p>The marble man stood motionless, the rope still looped around his torso, staring at the hole in the side of Cushing's head. Tina looked White Crow in the eyes, and clenched her metallic fists as he calmly looked into her silver eyes. He could see his own face reflected in them.</p> <p>"Tina," said Midnight, quietly. "I'll talk with him." Despite her calm tone, her ears were raised, and her dark fur stood on end. She was obviously nervous.</p> <p>Tina turned and walked back over to Mel, who was beginning to tug on the rope, testing it was securely attached to the both the marble man and the loop overhead. Xe was deliberately not looking at White Crow and Midnight, and that wasn't just to avoid the cognitohazardous painting behind them.</p> <p>Midnight padded past Tina, towards White Crow. "You didn't have to do that." She glanced down at the marble figure, still standing silently in the pit. "Not in front of him."</p> <p>White Crow shrugged. "I don't see why our new recruit would object. Considering the circumstances." He began to walk over towards Mel.</p> <p>Midnight stood in his way, her golden eyes staring up at him. "He's not a recruit."</p> <p>White Crow smiled. "Of course. Not yet."</p> <p>Standing next to Mel, but still able to hear them, Tina clenched her fists again.</p> <p>Midnight looked up at White Crow. She didn't raise her voice, but said sternly, "When we help people like this, we don't expect anything in return."</p> <p>The pale man looked offended. "Of course! But when they have skills we can use…"</p> <p>Tina clapped, and Midnight spun round to face her. [I told you.] signed Tina, ignoring White Crow and looking downwards to directly address Midnight. [He doesn't care.]</p> <p>Mel sighed, and decided that, if nobody was going to help xer, xe'd have to just do it xerself, and began pulling on the rope. Tina quickly joined xer, and Midnight aided them telekinetically, steadying the marble statue's slow rise. White Crow walked over and reached towards the rope, but Tina glared at him, and he took a step back, raising his hands.</p> <p>"I care more than you know." There was no reply as the marble man steadily rose out from the pit. "Tina, you need me. I got us in here."</p> <p>There was no response except a grunt from Mel. Tina, holding firmly onto Mel as xe held up the marble man's weight, reached out with her other hand to pull him over towards them. Once he was no longer suspended over the pit, Mel gently lowered him onto the granite floor with a deep sigh. As Midnight began to telekinetically untie the ropes, the black cat finally replied, "We don't need you. We could find someone else."</p> <p>White Crow looked at the Serpent's Nest with indignation. "What's this really about? Cushing deserved to die. You know that."</p> <p>Tina stamped her foot, drawing everyone's attention to the sound of metal striking granite, including a very confused-looking statue. [We're here to help people.] She gestured at White Crow. [You only care about hurting them.]</p> <p>His reply came quickly. "There's only one way to protect ourselves from men like him! Back me up here, Midnight!"</p> <p>The black cat's ears twitched nervously, as both Tina and White Crow looked over at her. Finally, she said, "Violence can be necessary. But Tina has a point." She gestured with one paw towards the marble man. "You see someone you can use." She paused. While her voice remained calm, the arching of her back conveyed her true feelings. "You see all of us that way, don't you?"</p> <p>Tina smiled coldly, tapping her own head with a metallic ringing sound. [I thought that was obvious.]</p> <p>White Crow looked over at the muscular moose that he'd frequently called his friend. "Mel! You know that's not true!"</p> <p>Xer silence spoke volumes. He'd always been kind to xer, right before asking xer to do the heavy lifting.</p> <p>White Crow waited for a response for a long time, then shrugged. He turned, and began walking towards the door.</p> <p>Midnight took a few small steps toward him, and said softly, "Crow, just apologize. You can change."</p> <p>He kept walking. "I can do this without you."</p> <p>"Crow, stop. I know how that ends."</p> <p>White Crow opened the door, then looked back over his shoulder. "It ends when we win."</p> <p>Tina seemed happy he was leaving, but Midnight was still following him.</p> <p>"You're going to get yourself killed!" Her sudden anger made it clear that she cared.</p> <p>A wide smile filled White Crow's face. "Some things are worth dying for."</p> <p>Midnight shook her head. "We're not going to be the means to your own end."</p> <p>"Fine." White Crow looked over at the marble man. "You want a better world than this one? Just find me." He walked out of the basement, ascending the stairs quickly. The door slammed behind him. He'd find his own Way back to the Library.</p> <p>"That could have gone better," said Mel. Xe walked over to the wall to take down the staring portrait.</p> <p>"It could have gone worse," said Midnight, her ears pushed back and her tail twitching.</p> <p>[We're better off without him,] signed Tina, and took the marble man by the hand. [Let's go.]</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>[Are you sure?] asked Tina.</p> <p>Bianco signed back in reply, the white marble of his hands moving rapidly through the motions. [Only if you still think it's a good idea.]</p> <p>They stood before a wall of books in the Library, all written in Italian and relating to art history. Both of them were wearing simple white clothing - Tina's preference.</p> <p>[It's a Way out of here,] replied Tina. [If you still want that.]</p> <p>Bianco's face was hard to read. He could move his sculpted features, but only with conscious effort. [I want to talk with them.]</p> <p>Tina nodded, then stepped towards the bookshelf. The Way they were about to use had been created very deliberately, through careful curation of an identical shelf outside the Wanderer's Library. Tina reached out to touch a series of books in quick succession, then pulled out a particularly heavy tome on the works of Leonardo Da Vinci.</p> <p>The entire bookshelf rotated in the center, opening up a small doorway for the two of them to step through. They were in another library, but unlike the endless expanse of shelves they'd just left, the ceiling here was low, with a window offering a view of the hills of Tuscany.</p> <p>The Supervisor of Artistic Expression at the <a href="/hub-madao">Medicean Academy of Occult Art</a> in Florence, a smartly dressed middle-aged woman with brown hair and thick-rimmed spectacles, reached out to shake Tina's hand. "Buongiorno." She turned to Bianco, but observed his hesitancy, and simply made a gesture instead. [Greetings.] She was a little nervous - she wasn't afraid of Bianco, but was concerned she'd upset him if she stared too much.</p> <p>She turned back to Tina. "Can he understand us?" she asked in English. Both Tina and Bianco nodded. "No problem with me talking then? My signing is slow, and I know you'll interrupt me as soon as you have something to say!"</p> <p>Tina loudly clapped her hands together, smiling as the sound of ringing metal faded. She couldn't speak, but she had no trouble making herself heard.</p> <p>The woman turned to face Bianco, unphased by the fact that he was made from solid stone. "Well then, my name is Laura Garcia! I'm the Supervisor in charge of what we call Artistic Expression here at the Academy. You see, all art has something to say, but some works have more to say than others - it's my job to facilitate dialogue between the art and the people who care for and view it."</p> <p>Bianco already knew what Ms Garcia's job involved, but her enthusiasm made it sound much more compelling than Tina's matter-of-fact summary.</p> <p>"Bianco, I want to make it very clear that you wouldn't be an exhibit - we think you'd be a great addition to our staff team. You wouldn't be the only one - we have a sculpture called Victoria working in our American archives, and here in Florence we've recruited a couple of portraits to our staff - one works as a receptionist, while the other keeps an eye on our security cameras when the building is closed. We're thinking of starting you off in maintenance, just to familiarise you with the layout of the building."</p> <p>Bianco nodded. He wanted to do something practical.</p> <p>Laura smiled. "After that, if you'd like something more public-facing, we have the occasional guest that need guiding around our exhibitions!" Bianco looked away from her, awkwardly. "Of course, if that makes you uncomfortable, we can schedule your work to avoid contact with guests -"</p> <p>Bianco shook his head. [I want to meet people.]</p> <p>"Well Bianco, if you are interested, we can start by introducing you to the team you'd be working with. It's a very close community here."</p> <p>[I can't talk,] signed Bianco slowly.</p> <p>"That's not a problem at all!" Laura said reassuringly. "A lot of our artworks can't talk verbally, so sign language is very useful." [We mostly use Italian Sign Language, so it won't be what you're familiar with, but I'll help you learn.]</p> <p>Tina had taught Bianco to communicate using a gesture-based language known as "Library Sign", which bore little resemblance to any human sign language. In the Wanderer's Library, it was frequently used by both Librarians and patrons that were unwilling or unable to speak verbally, as well as by magic users interested in non-verbal spellcasting. It was believed to be one of the oldest languages still in use, and contained several obscene gestures with mildly cognitohazardous effects.</p> <p>Bianco nodded. [I understand.]</p> <p>"Of course, we'll also teach you Italian, so that you understand what people around you are saying!"</p> <p>[I understand some already. It's why Tina suggested I come here.]</p> <p>Laura smiled warmly. "That's great to hear! Who taught it to you?"</p> <p>[My father. When I was young.]</p> <p>"Your… father?"</p> <p>[He sculpted me from marble.]</p> <p>"Of course! You must tell me more about him!"</p> <p>[He died.]</p> <p>Tina winced. Bianco could be blunt.</p> <p>Laura paused. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. I was just wondering if we had any of his works in our collection. If we did, I'd love to reunite you!"</p> <p>Bianco shook his head. [I was the only work of my kind he ever made. Everything else was just stone.]</p> <p>Laura nodded. "That's not too surprising. Many works in our collections are the product of a single inspired act, impossible for even the artist to recreate."</p> <p>Bianco looked away from her, embarrassed. Laura smiled nervously. Tina tapped her foot impatiently. [There's something else to talk about.]</p> <p>Laura paused, then nodded. "I remember. There's no need to worry about that."</p> <p>Bianco looked between Laura and Tina, confused.</p> <p>"Bianco, you don't have to worry about being… sold… again. I know there are some disreputable types in the world of anomalous art, but none of them would dare to touch an employee of the Medician Academy of Occult Art."</p> <p>Bianco nodded, and turned to Tina. [You think they can protect me?]</p> <p>Tina looked at Laura. [If they don't, I'll consider it a personal betrayal.]</p> <p>Laura smiled nervously. [We would not want the Silver Woman as our enemy.] She turned to Bianco. "I promise you, we're more than capable of protecting our own."</p> <p>Bianco nodded, then turned to Tina. [I should repay you first. For your help.]</p> <p>Tina shook her head. [Live a life worth living. That's all I ask.]</p> <p>They stood in silence for an uncomfortably long time. Laura shuffled nervously, uncertain of what to say.</p> <p>Finally, Bianco turned back to Laura. [When can I start?]</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><a href="/more-cunning-than-any-beast">More Cunning Than Any Beast</a> »</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/pleasing-to-the-eye">Pleasing To The Eye</a>" by Jerden, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/pleasing-to-the-eye">https://scpwiki.com/pleasing-to-the-eye</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= He gestured downwards, into the pit in the center of the room. At the bottom was a white marble sculpture of a man, sitting slumped against the side of the pit. ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Alexander Cushing was a gracious host. It wasn't necessary to have the art dealer fly all the way to New England. They could have made the exchange through intermediaries, without ever meeting in person. But that felt too cold and impersonal for Cushing, so he invited Gianni Ferraro to deliver the piece in person. If Cushing was completely honest with himself, he had a selfish motivation behind inviting the man into his home. His greatest problem as a collector of anomalous art was that there were so few people it could be shown to. Of course, Cushing had no interest in the opinion of the general public - the whole point was that it was literally beyond their comprehension. However, Gianni Ferraro had expressed interest in Cushing's collection the last time they'd spoken, and Cushing was interested to hear his opinion after he'd seen it for himself. Ferraro strolled into Cushing's entrance hall with the confidence of a man at home anywhere. He was a pale man with dark hair, dressed in an expensive black Italian suit, with the jacket unbuttoned over a crisp white shirt. Cushing himself was there to welcome him, as two porters carefully carried a well-wrapped canvas into his manor. "Gianni! I am so pleased that you could come in person." Ferraro smiled warmly back at him. "Alex, the pleasure is all mine. I am very eager to see your collection." Cushing nodded. "Would you prefer to have some refreshments first?" Ferraro shook his head. "Perhaps later." He gestured at the covered painting, still held by the porters that had followed him into the hallway. "I would like to ensure this canvas is safely in place first." Cushing smiled back at him. "You could have just said you were eager to see my collection. I'd understand." Ferraro laughed. "Well, you have already told me all about it. I need to see if it lives up to expectations." Cushing walked towards a side door, and one of the two men in suits that accompanied him everywhere opened the door ahead of him, the other following just behind Ferraro, in front of the porters carrying the painting. They headed down the corridor, and entered a room painted white. One wall was empty except for a door. To the left was a haunting collection of six photographic portraits of women and children, monochrome against a black background and gazing intently at the camera. To the right was a hellscape. To Cushing's surprise, Ferraro seemed more interested in the six portraits than in the painting opposite them. He looked at each of the faces in turn. "They're different every time," said Cushing. "All refugees, or so the artist claimed. Hard to verify, but it seems to check out. It would have ended up as an anomalous object in some Foundation warehouse, or perhaps incinerated by the Coalition, but I managed to get my hands on it first." Ferraro turned to the opposite wall, and began scrutinizing the painting. The overall style was reminiscent of Hieronymus Bosch, depicting torments worthy of Dante's Inferno in excruciating detail. On close inspection, familiar faces could be seen. "There I am," said Cushing with mild amusement, pointing at a painted figure strongly resembling him. "Naked and in a pit, the subject of scorn and mockery. I suppose it thinks that's a fitting punishment." He turned to Ferraro. "You'll be on there too, you know. That's how it works." Ferraro scanned the painting, then pointed at a pale and emaciated figure, flagellating himself with a whip. On closer inspection the whip was actually a black serpent, fangs tearing into flesh. "That'll be me." Cushing looked on with amusement. "So it is. Well, I wouldn't ask a personal question, but..." "I'm my own worst enemy." Ferraro said this with a smile, then began looking around the room. "The rest of my collection is downstairs, Mr Ferraro. I can show you where I intend to place the newest addition in just a moment." He noticed Ferrarro was once again looked intently at the painting, then pointing to a specific section of it. "I found them too!" Cushing noticed him pointing to a pair of muscular men on the canvas, both pierced with arrows fired by demonic archers, frozen in the act of vigorously beating two other dammed souls with spiked clubs. Cushing looked on with confusion. Ferraro frowned. "You don't recognize them..?" He gestured at Cushing's two bodyguards. Cushing finally saw the resemblance. "Huh. I hadn't thought to look for them before... I suppose my whole staff will be on here somewhere." He stepped back, and turned away from the painting. Cushing headed over to the door, his bodyguard in front opening it and walking down the stairs ahead of them. As Cushing entered his gallery below, he turned apologetically to Ferraro. "You'll understand that my collection is a work in progress." Ferraro smiled, and shrugged. "Can any collection ever be complete?" Cushing nodded thoughtfully, and stepped through an open doorway into his basement. The floor was smooth black granite, in stark contrast to the white walls. The room was rectangular, with a square pit in the center, with just enough space around it to enable spectators to feel simultaneously safe and unsafe. On the wall to the left as they came in hung a framed portrait of an elderly woman, who looked back at them with an expression of extreme distress. Cushing nodded politely at her, and her painted eyes blinked. "Unsettling, isn't she?" Ferraro entered behind Cushing, then looked at the painting with interest. The portrait turned her head slightly to stare back at him. Cushing looked on with amusement. "It's possible that she's merely the illusion of a woman, but I prefer to think she really can see out, and nothing else. She's more poetic that way." The portrait continued to stare out at him, expression unchanging. Cushing eventually turned away. "Now, the other exhibit is something you already know. May I present to you - lot twelve!" He gestured downwards, into the pit in the center of the room. It was just deep enough for a person inside to have no hope of reaching the top, the smooth black granite presenting no footholds. At the bottom was a white marble sculpture of a man, sitting slumped against the side of the pit. Ferraro looked on with interest, leaning over the pit to get a better look at its contents. Cushing gestured at the bodyguard who had entered the room last, who flicked a switch on the wall next to the door. A bright spotlight suspended overhead suddenly came on, illuminating the statue with blinding light. There was the loud sound of marble striking granite as the statue flinched, startled by the light, then turned its head away from it, shielding its eyes with its hands. Although carved from white marble, the statue's muscles moved like flesh as it settled into a new position against the side of the pit, facing away from the spotlight overhead. Cushing came over to the edge of the pit, although not as close as Ferraro. "He's pretty still most of the time, unless you can catch him by surprise. I suppose he doesn't have much reason to move. But he can, when he wants to. He broke two arms and one leg as we were putting him in there." Cushing said this with an affectionate tone, looking down at his exhibit in the same way another man might regard a particularly exotic pet. "It was much more interesting at first - he'd pace, and occasionally pound on the walls, or try to climb out. I was actually worried he might damage himself. But he calmed down after a few weeks. It's less exciting, but I sometimes come down here just to watch him. He's so... peaceful." Ferraro asked, "You ever think about climbing down, to sit with him a while?" Cushing laughed. "He's 500 pounds of marble. He'd crack my skull with one blow!" Ferraro smiled. "Buyer beware." Cushing threw up his hands. "Exactly as advertised. I wouldn't have it any other way." The two porters had begun to hang the canvas on the wall, in a prepared location on the wall adjacent to the portrait. Ferraro gestured to the empty wall opposite the portrait. "I'm wondering about the other piece you were interested in. It feels like it would have fit into the same collection - did someone outbid you?" "Oh, you didn't hear?" asked Cushing. "I suppose you did leave early - the other piece I was interested in was stolen." Ferraro raised a curious eyebrow. "Stolen?" "Yes, very melodramatic. Nothing but a empty piece of skin, the tattoo that was on it completely missing. Right under the guard's noses, and of course, no cameras." Ferraro looked puzzled. "A real mystery?" Cushing shrugged. "Hardly. They were probably in on it. Paid off." He leaned towards Ferraro and lowered his voice, as if to avoid being heard by his servants. "Personally, I wouldn't put it past Messrs Marshal, Carter and Dark to have it stolen from themselves. The illicit element gives art a certain mystique." Ferraro looked skeptical. "As if artwork inscribed on flayed human skin is so... mundane." Cushing smiled. "Mister Ferraro, it was well done. For a tattoo. But I am not easily impressed." Ferraro walked over towards the covered canvas, which the porters had now placed against the wall opposite the door, still covered by a cream cloth. "Well then, I hope I will not disappoint you. When I came across this piece, I felt it would be a perfect addition to your collection." Cushing approached, flanked by his two bodyguards, facing away from the pit behind him. Further back, closer to the door and standing well away from the pit, the two porters looked on with interest. Ferraro frowned. "I was not expecting this large an audience." Cushing glanced behind him, and gestured to the porters. "You can leave now." They quickly hurried out of the basement. Ferraro began his preamble once they had left. "Now, the painting itself is oil on canvas, imitating the style of the Dutch marine artworks of the 17th Century. However, I can date the canvas of this specific piece to the 19th century, and so this is clearly a later reproduction - although not without its own artistic merit. I cannot precisely date the brushwork, due to some of the more... original aspects of this specific piece." He paused. Cushing could barely conceal his excitement. Ferraro smiled at him as he began to slowly pull the sheet covering the oil painting aside. "When I saw how the subject matter was depicted, I knew it would make an excellent addition to your collection." The painting he unveiled depicted a small fishing boat in a storm-tossed ocean, beneath a grey sky. The novelty of the piece was the way that it was constantly in motion, wild waves regularly swamping the boat. The crew inside never ceased in their frantic efforts to control the boat, wrestling against the wind and waves for control and bailing out buckets of water, the oil paint of the sea and sky silently swirling and flowing as if it were still liquid. The most fascinating aspect of the work was that it did not seem to repeat. Each wave, each gale, and each reaction seemed entirely unique and surprising. The small boat was continually on the edge of capsizing, but never quite tipped over entirely. The overall effect was to immerse the viewer entirely in the small world of constant motion depicted within the frame. A world that was literally nauseating. Cushing bent over and slowly vomited onto the black granite floor. His bodyguards turned towards him, but both of them staggered, clearly also unwell and unsteady on their feet. Their portrait on the wall continued to stare at them, expression unchanging. Gianni Ferraro stepped over and steadied one of the bodyguards by placing his left hand on the man's shoulder. Then, with his right hand, he pulled a switchblade out of the inside of his jacket, and cut the man's throat. Red blood splatted across his white shirt and black jacket, as he reached down towards the holster at the man's belt. The other guard reacted immediately, but even though he was no longer looking at it, the seascape had a lingering effect. He was too preoccupied with the effort of standing upright to be able to take aim with his own pistol fast enough. The man who called himself Ferraro had carefully avoided looking at the image, and had no such difficulty as he drew the first guard's pistol from his belt. As the first guard's body fell backwards onto the floor, his killer dropped the bloodstained knife, held the pistol in both hands, and fired three shots. Cushing's second bodyguard toppled over backward, blood soaking his chest as he fell to the floor. The back of his head loudly made contact with the granite. Cushing, vomit still staining his chin, staggered away in fright, falling to the ground dangerously close to the edge of the pit. Two more shots were fired, each shot carefully aimed at the heads of each of his bodyguards. Neither would be getting up again. "Oh God," groaned Cushing, feeling sick with both terror and the lingering effects of the painting he'd been exposed to. The pale face of the man he'd let into his home looked down at him, the pistol now pointing directly at him. Cushing scrambled back, then realized he was right on the edge of the pit, and froze. The man in the bloodstained suit now aimed the pistol at him with only his right hand, and gestured upwards with the barrel. "Get up." Cushing struggled to obey. The fact that his eyes were fixed on the man and not on the painting behind him made it easier to comply, although he was still unsteady on his feet. The man was too far away from him for Cushing to stand a chance of rushing him, and clearly had no qualms against violence. Cushing's best hope was to comply, and hope this maniac could be reasoned with. "Now, whatever you want, I'm sure I can -" The man took a step closer to him, and thrust forwards his left hand. Cushing flinched, but it seemed the man was merely doing it to expose the skin on his forearm. He smiled, the same smile with which he'd greeted Cushing earlier. "Recognise this?" Upon the pale skin of his wrist, something moved. It was the head of the black serpent tattoo that Cushing had once hoped to buy, the one that had been stolen from the art auction where they'd met. The man who'd introduced himself Gianni Ferraro was not a dealer in anomalous art, but a thief, a liar and a killer. He took another step closer to Cushing. "What do you want from me?" asked Cushing, a note of desperation in his voice. In reply, Cushing was shoved into the pit behind him. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ The drop was not far, and Cushing managed to break his fall with an outstretched arm. He also broke his wrist, then multiple ribs as he rolled across the granite. He screamed until he ran out of breath, gazing up as the maniac that had pushed him in now calmly looked down at him. Another, even paler face loomed over him, and Cushing closed his eyes, expecting at any moment to feel the sudden impact of marble against his skull. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Nothing happened. Cushing opened his eyes, and glanced around to see that his marble statue had sat back down on the far side of the pit. Cushing was alive. In a lot of pain, but very much alive. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ "Well, this is awkward." White Crow had honestly not expected Alexander Cushing to survive that. When he'd pushed the man in, he'd thought there'd be a poetic sort of justice in letting the man's own prisoner finish him off. By all accounts, the statue was very capable of doing it - they'd had it in chains at the auction when Cushing had bought it. It just didn't seem to be interested. White Crow began to take aim with his stolen pistol when the basement door opened. He raised the gun towards the door, but quickly lowered it again as he recognised the new arrivals. It was the three members of the Serpent's Nest willing to assist him. Tina came in first. Her entire body was made of silver metal, shimmering as she stepped out of the stairway and into the bright light of the gallery. She was wearing a simple white shirt and trousers, without any shoes. Behind her came Midnight, a small black cat, and Mel, a muscular humanoid bull moose wearing jeans and a red vest shirt. Xe had to twist awkwardly through the doorway to accommodate xer gnarled and mismatched antlers. A coil of thick rope was slung over xer left shoulder. Tina lacked the lungs required for verbal communication, but as soon as Mel closed the door behind them, she drew White Crow's attention by clapping, making a sound like cymbals clashing. She then pointed at him, the canvas, and the bodies on the floor, signing [You said the painting would incapacitate?]. Everyone present knew exactly what she meant. Mel the Manly Moose glanced at the canvas behind White Crow, and gagged, raising a hairy hand to xer mouth. Midnight the cat, in a soft feminine voice that didn't seem to come from her mouth, said simply "Mel, we warned you to be careful." She carefully avoided looking directly at the painting. Tina, as a non-biological entity, had no such problem, and was able to look directly at White Crow, with the disapproving gaze he was so familiar with. He smiled back at her. "It presented an opening." Midnight, with a scolding tone, said "We agreed we'd do this without unnecessary casualties." With Cushing and his staff distracted by White Crow's arrival, it had been a simple matter for her to cloak the Serpent's Nest with magic and walk in through the back door. If she'd been in the basement earlier, there would have been no need for violence. White Crow shrugged, still holding the stolen pistol. "This was necessary." He looked down into the pit in the center of the room, where Cushing lay, breathing heavily, and the marble man sat calmly. He looked up at Tina as she leaned over the pit. Tina frowned, pointing at Cushing. [Why there?] "I pushed him." Mel laughed, but Midnight didn't find it so amusing. "Crow, why?" White Crow carefully considered his words from the other side of the room. "Well, we can't exactly leave him alive after this, can we? He's done too much." Tina glared at him, and gestured at Cushing, who was making noises somewhere between gasps and sobs. [You knew the fall wouldn't kill him.] White Crow frowned. "Well, I assumed our friend down there -" Tina interrupted by clashing her hands together again. She turned to Midnight. [I told you!] She gestured at White Crow, and the gun still held in his hand. [He just wants another weapon.] Mel interrupted. "If we're going to have this argument again, can it wait?" Xe began uncoiling rope. "I could do with some help to get him out of there." Midnight looked up at the ceiling. "Looks like they got the statue in via a rope and pulley. It should hold the weight for us too. But are we sure it's safe?" Mel shrugged as xe placed the coil of rope on the floor next to Midnight. "If he's not attacked the bastard in there with him, I think we'll be fine." With great concentration, Midnight telekinetically raised up one end of the rope. She carefully threaded it through a metal loop on the ceiling, before bringing it back down. Mel grabbed both ends of the rope and gave it a firm tug, before dropping one end of the rope into the pit. The marble man stared intently at the rope that had fallen next to him. Cushing tried to push himself up, before groaning in pain and giving up. Mel glanced down at him. "You can wait. We didn't come here for you." White Crow turned to the marble statue. "You know, it's entirely up to you whether or not he makes it out of there." Tina glared at him as the marble figure stood up. Cushing flinched, gasping with pain, but the statue didn't move any closer to him. He seemed to be unable to speak, but stared expectantly upwards, so Midnight took that as permission and began to telekinetically manipulate the end of the rope in the pit. The marble man flinched as it touched him. Midnight, in a calm and even voice, said "I'm sorry. But we're going to need to use this to get you out of there." It was hard to read the emotions of a statue, but he stood still as Midnight stared intently at the end of the rope, wrapping it around the statue's torso then having the rope tie itself into a knot. Mel, head tilted, was looking over at the portrait of the elderly woman on the wall. It stared back at her. "I'll grab that on the way out. Might also be alive." Tina looked across to the other side of the pit, and made a series of commanding gestures. ["Crow, put the gun down, come over here, and help us.] She noticed he was hesitating, and began walking around the edge of the pit towards him, her metal feet loudly clinking against the granite floor. She was still pointing. [Gun. Down.] White Crow looked down at Alexander Cushing, then shot him in the side of the head, right above the ear. As Tina reached him, he dropped the pistol at her feet. The marble man stood motionless, the rope still looped around his torso, staring at the hole in the side of Cushing's head. Tina looked White Crow in the eyes, and clenched her metallic fists as he calmly looked into her silver eyes. He could see his own face reflected in them. "Tina," said Midnight, quietly. "I'll talk with him." Despite her calm tone, her ears were raised, and her dark fur stood on end. She was obviously nervous. Tina turned and walked back over to Mel, who was beginning to tug on the rope, testing it was securely attached to the both the marble man and the loop overhead. Xe was deliberately not looking at White Crow and Midnight, and that wasn't just to avoid the cognitohazardous painting behind them. Midnight padded past Tina, towards White Crow. "You didn't have to do that." She glanced down at the marble figure, still standing silently in the pit. "Not in front of him." White Crow shrugged. "I don't see why our new recruit would object. Considering the circumstances." He began to walk over towards Mel. Midnight stood in his way, her golden eyes staring up at him. "He's not a recruit." White Crow smiled. "Of course. Not yet." Standing next to Mel, but still able to hear them, Tina clenched her fists again. Midnight looked up at White Crow. She didn't raise her voice, but said sternly, "When we help people like this, we don't expect anything in return." The pale man looked offended. "Of course! But when they have skills we can use..." Tina clapped, and Midnight spun round to face her. [I told you.] signed Tina, ignoring White Crow and looking downwards to directly address Midnight. [He doesn't care.] Mel sighed, and decided that, if nobody was going to help xer, xe'd have to just do it xerself, and began pulling on the rope. Tina quickly joined xer, and Midnight aided them telekinetically, steadying the marble statue's slow rise. White Crow walked over and reached towards the rope, but Tina glared at him, and he took a step back, raising his hands. "I care more than you know." There was no reply as the marble man steadily rose out from the pit. "Tina, you need me. I got us in here." There was no response except a grunt from Mel. Tina, holding firmly onto Mel as xe held up the marble man's weight, reached out with her other hand to pull him over towards them. Once he was no longer suspended over the pit, Mel gently lowered him onto the granite floor with a deep sigh. As Midnight began to telekinetically untie the ropes, the black cat finally replied, "We don't need you. We could find someone else." White Crow looked at the Serpent's Nest with indignation. "What's this really about? Cushing deserved to die. You know that." Tina stamped her foot, drawing everyone's attention to the sound of metal striking granite, including a very confused-looking statue. [We're here to help people.] She gestured at White Crow. [You only care about hurting them.] His reply came quickly. "There's only one way to protect ourselves from men like him! Back me up here, Midnight!" The black cat's ears twitched nervously, as both Tina and White Crow looked over at her. Finally, she said, "Violence can be necessary. But Tina has a point." She gestured with one paw towards the marble man. "You see someone you can use." She paused. While her voice remained calm, the arching of her back conveyed her true feelings. "You see all of us that way, don't you?" Tina smiled coldly, tapping her own head with a metallic ringing sound. [I thought that was obvious.] White Crow looked over at the muscular moose that he'd frequently called his friend. "Mel! You know that's not true!" Xer silence spoke volumes. He'd always been kind to xer, right before asking xer to do the heavy lifting. White Crow waited for a response for a long time, then shrugged. He turned, and began walking towards the door. Midnight took a few small steps toward him, and said softly, "Crow, just apologize. You can change." He kept walking. "I can do this without you." "Crow, stop. I know how that ends." White Crow opened the door, then looked back over his shoulder. "It ends when we win." Tina seemed happy he was leaving, but Midnight was still following him. "You're going to get yourself killed!" Her sudden anger made it clear that she cared. A wide smile filled White Crow's face. "Some things are worth dying for." Midnight shook her head. "We're not going to be the means to your own end." "Fine." White Crow looked over at the marble man. "You want a better world than this one? Just find me." He walked out of the basement, ascending the stairs quickly. The door slammed behind him. He'd find his own Way back to the Library. "That could have gone better," said Mel. Xe walked over to the wall to take down the staring portrait. "It could have gone worse," said Midnight, her ears pushed back and her tail twitching. [We're better off without him,] signed Tina, and took the marble man by the hand. [Let's go.] @@ @@ ---- @@ @@ [Are you sure?] asked Tina. Bianco signed back in reply, the white marble of his hands moving rapidly through the motions. [Only if you still think it's a good idea.] They stood before a wall of books in the Library, all written in Italian and relating to art history. Both of them were wearing simple white clothing - Tina's preference. [It's a Way out of here,] replied Tina. [If you still want that.] Bianco's face was hard to read. He could move his sculpted features, but only with conscious effort. [I want to talk with them.] Tina nodded, then stepped towards the bookshelf. The Way they were about to use had been created very deliberately, through careful curation of an identical shelf outside the Wanderer's Library. Tina reached out to touch a series of books in quick succession, then pulled out a particularly heavy tome on the works of Leonardo Da Vinci. The entire bookshelf rotated in the center, opening up a small doorway for the two of them to step through. They were in another library, but unlike the endless expanse of shelves they'd just left, the ceiling here was low, with a window offering a view of the hills of Tuscany. The Supervisor of Artistic Expression at the [[[hub-madao\| Medicean Academy of Occult Art]]] in Florence, a smartly dressed middle-aged woman with brown hair and thick-rimmed spectacles, reached out to shake Tina's hand. "Buongiorno." She turned to Bianco, but observed his hesitancy, and simply made a gesture instead. [Greetings.] She was a little nervous - she wasn't afraid of Bianco, but was concerned she'd upset him if she stared too much. She turned back to Tina. "Can he understand us?" she asked in English. Both Tina and Bianco nodded. "No problem with me talking then? My signing is slow, and I know you'll interrupt me as soon as you have something to say!" Tina loudly clapped her hands together, smiling as the sound of ringing metal faded. She couldn't speak, but she had no trouble making herself heard. The woman turned to face Bianco, unphased by the fact that he was made from solid stone. "Well then, my name is Laura Garcia! I'm the Supervisor in charge of what we call Artistic Expression here at the Academy. You see, all art has something to say, but some works have more to say than others - it's my job to facilitate dialogue between the art and the people who care for and view it." Bianco already knew what Ms Garcia's job involved, but her enthusiasm made it sound much more compelling than Tina's matter-of-fact summary. "Bianco, I want to make it very clear that you wouldn't be an exhibit - we think you'd be a great addition to our staff team. You wouldn't be the only one - we have a sculpture called Victoria working in our American archives, and here in Florence we've recruited a couple of portraits to our staff - one works as a receptionist, while the other keeps an eye on our security cameras when the building is closed. We're thinking of starting you off in maintenance, just to familiarise you with the layout of the building." Bianco nodded. He wanted to do something practical. Laura smiled. "After that, if you'd like something more public-facing, we have the occasional guest that need guiding around our exhibitions!" Bianco looked away from her, awkwardly. "Of course, if that makes you uncomfortable, we can schedule your work to avoid contact with guests -" Bianco shook his head. [I want to meet people.] "Well Bianco, if you are interested, we can start by introducing you to the team you'd be working with. It's a very close community here." [I can't talk,] signed Bianco slowly. "That's not a problem at all!" Laura said reassuringly. "A lot of our artworks can't talk verbally, so sign language is very useful." [We mostly use Italian Sign Language, so it won't be what you're familiar with, but I'll help you learn.] Tina had taught Bianco to communicate using a gesture-based language known as "Library Sign", which bore little resemblance to any human sign language. In the Wanderer's Library, it was frequently used by both Librarians and patrons that were unwilling or unable to speak verbally, as well as by magic users interested in non-verbal spellcasting. It was believed to be one of the oldest languages still in use, and contained several obscene gestures with mildly cognitohazardous effects. Bianco nodded. [I understand.] "Of course, we'll also teach you Italian, so that you understand what people around you are saying!" [I understand some already. It's why Tina suggested I come here.] Laura smiled warmly. "That's great to hear! Who taught it to you?" [My father. When I was young.] "Your... father?" [He sculpted me from marble.] "Of course! You must tell me more about him!" [He died.] Tina winced. Bianco could be blunt. Laura paused. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. I was just wondering if we had any of his works in our collection. If we did, I'd love to reunite you!" Bianco shook his head. [I was the only work of my kind he ever made. Everything else was just stone.] Laura nodded. "That's not too surprising. Many works in our collections are the product of a single inspired act, impossible for even the artist to recreate." Bianco looked away from her, embarrassed. Laura smiled nervously. Tina tapped her foot impatiently. [There's something else to talk about.] Laura paused, then nodded. "I remember. There's no need to worry about that." Bianco looked between Laura and Tina, confused. "Bianco, you don't have to worry about being... sold... again. I know there are some disreputable types in the world of anomalous art, but none of them would dare to touch an employee of the Medician Academy of Occult Art." Bianco nodded, and turned to Tina. [You think they can protect me?] Tina looked at Laura. [If they don't, I'll consider it a personal betrayal.] Laura smiled nervously. [We would not want the Silver Woman as our enemy.] She turned to Bianco. "I promise you, we're more than capable of protecting our own." Bianco nodded, then turned to Tina. [I should repay you first. For your help.] Tina shook her head. [Live a life worth living. That's all I ask.] They stood in silence for an uncomfortably long time. Laura shuffled nervously, uncertain of what to say. Finally, Bianco turned back to Laura. [When can I start?] [[>]] [[[More Cunning Than Any Beast]]] >> [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-17T15:12:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "bittersweet", "crime-fiction", "madao", "midnight-the-cat", "serpents-hand", "tale" ]	Pleasing To The Eye - SCP Foundation	18	[ "hub-madao", "more-cunning-than-any-beast", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "serpent-s-hand-hub", "now-the-serpent", "hub-madao" ]	[]	1446214184	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/pleasing-to-the-eye
plus-one	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>White.</p> <p>Whiteness was all that filled <a href="/scp-7513">Forrest O'Sullivan</a>’s gaze when he gained consciousness. Confusion set in. He reached his hands out. They were still there. Then came the panic.</p> <p>Forrest could only think of one thing that could happen to him. Statistically, it was the only odd thing that could happen to him. He was abducted by aliens.</p> <p>Forrest was an unwilling alien magnet. Aliens either wanted to bang him or make him their king and he hated that.</p> <p>Feeling around, he could tell he was still wearing his orange Foundation-issued jumpsuit. His hands reached for his pockets. He sighed in relief as his pager was still there. After a breach at Site-13 which resulted in aliens almost abducting him, Forrest was given an emergency pager that works anywhere, in reality, should an abduction be successful.</p> <p>Pulling it out, he found the pager worked fine, but the reception was shit. Forrest started to sweat, stuffing the pager back in his pocket. Was this what was gonna be his end?</p> <p>He crouched down, holding his knees to his chest and slightly rocking back and forth. This was the worst-case scenario. All of the protections the Foundation had given him didn’t work, and he was alone in an alien world with no way to fend for himself. The odds were insurmountable. If these aliens could block out the Foundation’s “anywhere in reality” pager, then he stood no chance.</p> <p>He heard footfalls and his head shot up, eyes widened as his face was covered in sweat. He made out the shape of a humanoid entity approaching him. As they approached, Forrest backed up quickly, adrenaline rushing through his system.</p> <p>His back hit a wall. Shit! Of course, this white void had walls!</p> <p>Sweat rolled down his face, watching the figure get closer and closer. The more it got closer, the more details Forrest could make out. They resembled a masculine and kinda handsome human wearing a business suit and a suitcase, having slicked-back black hair and brown eyes. Outside of appearing in this strange realm, the being seemed to look like a normal human being.</p> <p>Forrest curled himself up into a ball, whimpering and crying as the footsteps continued.</p> <p>They stopped.</p> <p>Forrest was starting to hyperventilate, sweat dripping down his face as he waited for the worst to happen, only for the worst to never come.</p> <p>“Greetings!” the being spoke, “You must be my plus one for this wonderful company-mandated vacation!”</p> <p>Forrest looked up at the being, a strange smile on their face, seemingly completely unaware of the apparent fear on Forrest’s face.</p> <p>“P-please don’t… don’t…” Forrest sputtered out, “Don’t come any closer! Don’t do anything!”</p> <p>“What do you mean?” responded the being, “The only thing we’ll be doing is enjoying this company-mandated vacation! Congratulations on winning the special lottery, by the way,”</p> <p>“I didn’t sign up for any stupid lottery!” Forrest shouted back, “Don’t be coy, alien! I know what your kind wants me to do, and I won’t do it! I’m an alien sex magnet, for Christ’s sake, it's obvious!”</p> <p>“Sex? I have no genitals!” said the entity, “That’s part of a ███████ premium subscription, after all!”</p> <p>Forrest started to ease his breathing as the entity spoke. He still didn’t trust them to not harm him (after all, how was this thing able to say ███████ with their mouth), but Forrest could tell that whatever it was, it was telling the truth.</p> <p>“<a href="/the-greazeburger-holiday-special">Randolph Greaze</a>, for Greazeburger,” said the being, “As for the lottery, all Greazeburger customers are automatically added to the lottery of potential plus ones to company-mandated vacations of all Greazeburger staff. I was recently awarded a lovely one-day company-mandated vacation, and you were selected as my plus one!”</p> <p>They held out their hand, holding a business card with the word GREAZEBURGER emblazoned on it, “Randolph Greaze, an employee of Greazeburger,”</p> <p>This was ridiculous, yet Forrest was still wary. Forrest tucked the business card into his jumpsuit pocket.</p> <p>He introduced himself, “Forrest… but… the Foundation calls me SCP-7513,”</p> <p>“The Foundation?” Randolph asked, “You mean the SCP Foundation?”</p> <p>Forrest nodded.</p> <p>“Oh, that’s a terrible shame that someone like you works for that stinky society!” They said, “Don’t you know they’re a bunch of neckbeard recluses who don’t enjoy the fun?”</p> <p>“Uhh…” Forrest didn’t know how to respond, “I don’t… work for them? I just… listen, whatever, I don’t care, all I care about is that you claim that this supposed lottery was through Greazeburger customers… yet I didn’t buy anything from this… Greazeburger thing. What the hell is this about?"</p> <p>“Oh, but you did!” Randolph said, “You are the owner of a pager, that pager has a small component in it that was created by a company that was recently bought by Greazeburger Earth to get more ingredients for Greaze Juice. As such, that makes you eligible for the lottery!”</p> <p>“Right…”</p> <p>Randolph smacked the wall Forrest backed into, a metal ringing echoing through the void.</p> <p>“Looks like we got lucky today, ey?” Randolph said, “We’re going to enjoy a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza, just for the two of us!”</p> <p>Forrest turned around, noticing that the wall wasn’t a wall, but rather a tall metallic cylinder with a ladder on the side, presumably a tall pot.</p> <p>The pot started to groan and gurgle, which made Randolph laugh out loud. “It’s extra Greazy today!”</p> <p>With that, Randolph bounded to the ladder and made their way up the pot before stopping and jumping down, running up to Forrest and patting his socks.</p> <p>“What are you doing?” Forrest asked, to which Randolph smiled.</p> <p>“Cleaning your socks, of course!” they responded, “The Foundation is well known for dunking people’s socks in mayo, after all. That’s what my boss told me,”</p> <p>“Right…”</p> <p>As Randolph finished up, Forrest ran his hand through his hair and sighed.</p> <p>Randolph got onto the pot’s ladder and began to make their way up the steep structure. Forrest, with nothing else to do and no way out of this white void, made his way to the ladder and began to climb.</p> <p>It was a long way up. The ladder was tall, and Forrest couldn’t see the top, even after roughly an hour of climbing. Forrest had a feeling he was still at the beginning of the climb.</p> <p>Randolph hummed a happy tune while climbing, very clearly happy to be here.</p> <p>After a few hours, there seemed to be a small checkpoint, decked out with two lawn chairs and two bottles of Greazeburger brand water. Taking the opportunity the duo sat down, stretching and regaining their strength.</p> <p>“Hey, uh, Randolph?” said Forrest, “How much longer is this climb?”</p> <p>Randolph responded quickly, “I'm not sure the exact distance, but I'd say it'll take 10 hours of just climbing, as there are two hours of climbing between each checkpoint from what I've heard,"</p> <p>Silence filled the room before Randolph spoke again.</p> <p>"Have you had a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza before?" they asked.</p> <p>“No, I’ve never even heard of Greazeburger before,” Forrest said, “Is it a sort of… alien fast food joint?”</p> <p>“No…” said Randolph, “Greazeburger is the Holy Corporation run by the Creator Enlightened Omnipotent, Ebenezer Greaze. Blessed be Him,"</p> <p>"Right…"</p> <p>Silence once again.</p> <p>"Y'know, what is your deal with aliens?" asked Randolph, "You've mentioned it multiple times. You said you were an alien sex magnet before, what does that mean?"</p> <p>Forrest simply sighed and paused for a second before explaining himself.</p> <p>"I'm an alien magnet…" he said, "Aliens either wanna… yannow… bang me or do some romantic courting ritual,"</p> <p>"Really?" Randolph asked, eyes widening in curiosity.</p> <p>"Yeah, I once almost got abducted at a nightclub by some bee race," Forrest said, "It wasn't successful, though,"</p> <p>"What, did they give up?" Randolph asked.</p> <p>"No, I had a fake flower on me that spurted water… long story… and I spurted it in the alien's eye," Forrest said, "Some guy caught me, and after some investigation the Foundation took me in for protection. Said I was a statistical anomaly,"</p> <p>“Wow!” Randolph said, his eyes sparkling, “If I got abducted I would be fired!”</p> <p>"Well then call me fired…", Forrest replied, "Because that's what your Greazeburger did to me…"</p> <p>An awkward silence filled the air once again. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Randolph got up and headed back towards the ladder, beckoning Forrest to follow. Reluctantly, Forrest got up and the duo continued onwards.</p> <p>As they progressed, Forrest could swear he could hear the inside of the pot… screaming? Oh, god. He could smell the pizza… It was horrendous. A putrid stench that was like a mixture of fast food grease and rotten cheese.</p> <p>“Oh… what the fuck’s in this?” Forrest exclaimed, “It stinks!”</p> <p>“It’s a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza, of course!” Randolph replied, "Have you been listening?"</p> <p>"Yes, I have!" Forrest choked on the air, "Whatever's in that pizza smells like shit!"</p> <p>“If you’re unsatisfied, I could call my boss to come here and send you home,” Randolph said, “But we have to reach the top first, as he can only enter this Greazeburger Vacation Realm™ at the top of the pot,”</p> <p>Of course, they had to reach the top first. Go figure.</p> <p>Forrest sighed and tried to clumsily cover his nose with his jumpsuit, but couldn’t due to the whole ladder situation. Not even breathing through his mouth could stop the stench from wafting into his nostrils.</p> <p>He eventually gave up, grit his teeth, and continued in silence.</p> <p>It was a little while until the next checkpoint came, and the duo climbed onto the platform and kicked their feet back. They sat in silence for the most part until the silence was broken by Forrest.</p> <p>"If this is a Vacation Realm or whatever why is it a white void?" he asked.</p> <p>Randolph shrugged, "If I had to guess, it would be because not everyone has the same ideal vacation destination,"</p> <p>Forrest nodded his head. He couldn't argue with that.</p> <p>Once again, silence permeated the area. It was interrupted by Randolph this time.</p> <p>“What do you do in the SCP Foundation?” they asked, “What’s your job description? I move numbers around in a spreadsheet to make sure that more glorious business could be done,”</p> <p>“I, uh…” Forrest said, “I don't work for them, I’m just under protection from them. They’re protecting me from the aliens,”</p> <p>“And in return?” asked Randolph.</p> <p>Forrest looked up, "What do you mean by that?"</p> <p>“It’s bad business to do something for free,” Randolph replied, “No profit could be made. What do you do to make money for them?”</p> <p>“I… I don’t make money for them,” Forrest said, “They’re doing it for research because I’m statistically impossible, not for money."</p> <p>“But… how will they make money if they don't use every asset they have?” asked Randolph.</p> <p>“They don’t need to make money!” Forrest suddenly snapped, “They already have enough!”</p> <p>“But more money is always good! That’s what His Holiness says!”</p> <p>Forrest wanted to shout at Randolph, grab them by the arms and shake them and tell them to not worship their CEO like a god. Yet it would be counter-intuitive, and waste more energy than necessary. He took several deep breaths, not wanting to flip out on the only company he had.</p> <p>The duo resumed their climb once more, the noises in the pizza getting louder and louder, gross gurgling and screaming and crunching sounds. At one point, the pizza boomed, and the pot shook. Both Forrest and Randolph stopped their climb and braced themselves for the worst, yet nothing happened. Both were relatively safe, and they both continued on their journey, Randolph still humming merrily.</p> <p>As the climb continued, Forrest couldn’t help but feel sorry for Randolph. While they were completely brainwashed by this Greazeburger corporate machine, Forrest couldn’t help but feel there was something underneath, a real person who could exist for themself and not because a boardroom told them to.</p> <p>Forrest hated corporations. He's seen the effects of working a corporate job so many times in his life while visiting his dad who worked a cubicle job. His dad got so depressed he would come home, pass out, and wake up without ever seeing the sun. Even during bring your kid to work days, the meaningless rattle and click-clack of computer keys drove him insane. Randolph probably lives eternally under that bore, no wonder all they think about is profit.</p> <p>A part of Forrest was telling him to reach out and save Randolph from that hell, seeing the real person Randolph was underneath, yet another part was screaming in self-preservation. It was screaming that an organization that seemed as powerful as Greazeburger, who was able to kidnap Forrest from containment in Site-13 because he owned a pager that had a component bought by the company, would probably kill Forrest at any chance they could if he tried to convince Randolph to defect.</p> <p>Besides, Forrest and Randolph just met around four hours ago. Why would Forrest risk his life for someone who was a stranger?</p> <p>But there was this nagging feeling Forrest had, maybe it was the stench and the screaming pizza talking, but he felt as if Randolph and himself were both in immense danger, more danger than they already were in climbing a giant pot with no protection.</p> <p>So… Forrest risked everything.</p> <p>“Hey, Randolph,” he called out, “What would you do if you didn’t work for Greazeburger?”</p> <p>“What do you mean?” asked Randolph, “Why would I ever want to work anywhere else?”</p> <p>“Just…” Forrest took a deep breath, “Think, hypothetically, what if Greazeburger didn’t exist-”</p> <p>Randolph gasped in offense. “How dare you! Greazeburger is a constant! The world needs our great Greaze, blessed be the holy grease fire,”</p> <p>“Think for yourself!” Forrest cried out, “What do you want? Completely remove the company from your thoughts!”</p> <p>Randolph stopped in their tracks and looked at Forrest.</p> <p>“What I want is to make money for Greazeburger,” said Randolph, “I do glorious business for the glorious company, and I take pride in my work.”</p> <p>“Do you know why you work there?” Forrest asked.</p> <p>“I work there because it’s what I was born to do,” Randolph said, “That's what my boss told me, at least…”</p> <p>“Nobody’s supposed to live like that,” Forrest said, “Just… doing work for work’s sake… I think that’s kinda sad."</p> <p>Randolph didn’t say a word, they merely continued onwards, climbing upwards at a hastened pace. It was obvious the businessperson was fuming, taking personal offense over Forrest’s comments.</p> <p>As the odyssey continued, the stench worsened. It smelled like death, and the screaming got louder, and there was banging on the side of the pot. Forrest could feel unknown hands pounding on the side, begging for release. It made him shudder.</p> <p>Randolph and Forrest continued to climb in silence, save for the occasional retch Forrest was making. Randolph even stopped their humming. Forrest didn’t realize he liked their humming until now. It was a weird guiding light in the craziness of this whole scenario.</p> <p>“God… I feel like I’m gonna vomit…” Forrest said after a particularly bad retch.</p> <p>Randolph didn’t seem to acknowledge Forrest’s retching, but when the next checkpoint arrived and both of them sat down to relax, Randolph turned to Forrest.</p> <p>“Are you enjoying yourself?” they asked as if they were a corporate questionnaire on a website.</p> <p>Forrest grunted, “We’ve been climbing this tall ass ladder non-stop for hours! We’ve been smelling the worst smells and I’m pretty sure the pizza is screaming! How can I think any of this is fun?”</p> <p>“It’s fun because the fun department assigned this as fun!” Randolph said, actually raising his voice for once, “If the fun department assigns this as fun, then it’s fun, alright?”</p> <p>“You guys have a fun department?” Forrest asked.</p> <p>“Of course we do!” Randolph answered, “But of course, the SCP Foundation doesn’t have a fun department, all of them hate fun!”</p> <p>It was a long and awkward pause, the two of them sitting in silence. After a little while they both made their way to the ladder and continued climbing.</p> <p>The duo were making it closer and closer to the top of the pot. They could see many stains from the grease on the pizza rusting away at the metal on the pot. The ladder was also poorly maintained near the top, with some of the rungs rusted to the point that the entire rung was overtaken by rust.</p> <p>The noises got worse, getting grosser and more terrifying each time they climbed a rusty rung. The stench got worse too, somehow getting even more rotten the closer they got to the top.</p> <p>The next checkpoint was taken in complete silence. The duo didn't speak to each other, yet their eyes were locked onto each other the entire time. A mutual agreement was made in their minds: if they were raised differently then they would be friends.</p> <p>As they continued with their climb, Forrest started to feel dizzy in his head. His hands started to burn and his feet started to ache.</p> <p>“Fuck… I think I’m gonna pass out…” Forrest huffed.</p> <p>Randolph looked back, “We've got an hour until we reach the top! You're doing great! You can make it,” they said.</p> <p>Forest shook his head, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m gonna make it…”</p> <p>“Yes, you can!” Randolph said, “You can make it!”</p> <p>Forrest nodded and continued upwards, but the pain started to get worse and worse, and his vision started to get blurry and dizzy. His head started to spin. He couldn’t think about anything but resting his head.</p> <p>"How long until the next checkpoint?" Forrest asked.</p> <p>"That was the last checkpoint earlier," Randolph replied.</p> <p>As if on cue, Forrest's grip loosened on the rung, he could feel his head moving and shifting and twirling. The pot rumbled and shook. Randolph stopped and braced themself, but looked down to find Forrest was hanging on by a mere thread… and that thread was about to burst.</p> <p>The last thing Forrest remembered before passing out was a hand grabbing his wrist.</p> <hr/> <p>When Forrest woke up again, he was on solid ground. Whiteness filled his vision once again as he hazily awoke.</p> <p>His senses regained themselves. He could feel that he was on a grated floor, and soon he started to remember as his ears filled with the horrible gurgling of the pizza and his nose filled with that awful rotting stench.</p> <p>He shot up, and his eyes met with Randolph’s. The businessperson sighed, smiling at Forrest.</p> <p>“Oh, you’re alright!” they said, “I wasn’t about to lose my plus one!”</p> <p>“What happened?” Forrest groggily asked, his head still spinning. He attempted to ground himself, placing his hands inside the holes of the metal grating.</p> <p>“You passed out,” Randolph spoke, straightening their tie, “I, fortunately, caught you, and carried you up to the top of the pot so we can enjoy the Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza!”</p> <p>Forrest nodded along with what Randolph was saying, taking a few seconds to recuperate himself before standing up. He stumbled a little, but Randolph grabbed his waist to help him stay up.</p> <p>Forrest’s arms and legs burned, and he was sore all over. He bent over and coughed, some spit falling out of his mouth and through the metal grating. Randolph patted him on the back.</p> <p>Randolph’s hands moved upwards to Forrest’s shoulders, their palms digging into the anomaly’s shoulder blades.</p> <p>Forrest sighed, unsure if shoulder massages could help with vertigo. It did feel nice, though.</p> <p>Forrest split from the massage Randolph was giving him, taking a few hesitant steps toward the edge of the pot. His curiosity got the better of him. He was careful not to fall, as there were no guard rails.</p> <p>When he looked into the pot he could see a massive pulsating blob of what appeared to be cheese moving rhythmically. Bubbles formed on the surface, popping with an awful squelch, emitting horrendous fumes, accompanied by the sound of screaming.</p> <p>“Aren’t you excited?” Randolph asked, “You get to try out a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza! That’s gotta be pretty exciting!”</p> <p>“I’m not sure,” Forrest said, backing away from the edge. He felt as if he stood there any longer he would vomit.</p> <p>“Well, you better be!” Randolph said.</p> <p>The businessperson patted Forrest on the back once again, before making their way over to an envelope on a table.</p> <p>“See? My boss even wrote a personal letter for both of us!” Randolph spoke, “How considerate!”</p> <p>Forrest looked at the envelope. It had the Greazeburger logo on the top left corner where the return address was, and the letter had Randolph’s name on it.</p> <p>The businessperson excitedly grabbed the letter and ripped it open, smiling ear to ear. Yet, as Randolph’s eyes scanned the paper, their smile faded until a point where the expression on their face was nothing more than shock.</p> <p>They dropped the paper, and Forrest was able to get a good look at it.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Mx. Randolph Greaze,</p> <p>We regret to inform you that your employment with Greazeburger Inc. has been terminated effective immediately.</p> <p>Profits in your sector fell by 0.01% during your absence, and as such you will be blamed. You will be replaced effective immediately, and your company-mandated vacation time will be cut short.</p> <p>Your final check will not be delivered, and the consequences will be immediate. I will arrive shortly after you read this letter.</p> <p>Thank you for your service to Greazeburger Inc.</p> <p>Regards,</p> <p>Mx. Martin Greaze<br/> Head of Greazeburger Earth</p> </div> <p>Randolph fell to their knees, covering their face with their hands and letting out shaking sobs. Forrest sighed once again, approaching the businessperson.</p> <p>Or… well… former businessperson.</p> <p>Forrest hesitantly patted Randolph on the back, before rubbing his hand in circles. He wasn’t too familiar with physical affection, but this was what Randolph did to him and it kinda worked so maybe it’ll help.</p> <p>After a few minutes of letting Randolph sob, Forrest spoke up.</p> <p>“Hey, look on the bright side,” he said, “Every day’s a vacation now! No longer company-mandated vacation time but… you mandated?”</p> <p>“I can’t… I can’t function without… without Greazeburger…” Randolph cried “I-I’m part of the family…”</p> <p>Forrest sat down next to Randolph.</p> <p>“Well… it looks like you’ll have to learn…” Forrest said, “Think about it, all the pizzas you want all over the world! Don’t you want to see the world?”</p> <p>“N-no… I wanna work for… for Greazeburger…” Randolph said, swallowing their tears.</p> <p>“Look… you’re free!” Forrest said, “Do whatever you want to do! No boss to tell you what to do!”</p> <p>Randolph turned to Forrest, a dumbfounded look on their face.</p> <p>“Why would anyone not want to have a boss?” Randolph asked, confused at the notion.</p> <p>Forrest sighed, deeply regretting trying to talk to Randolph in that way. It seems like they couldn't even fathom things in non-business terms.</p> <p>“Although…”</p> <p>Forrest turned his attention to Randolph. The ex-employee of Greazeburger slid towards him and up against his body.</p> <p>“I would like to spend some time with my plus one,” they said, “You were a very pleasant plus one, I would like to spend more time with you,”</p> <p>Forrest was confused. All he did was complain, yet somehow Randolph considered the experience… pleasant?</p> <p>“How?” Forrest asked, to which Randolph just smiled.</p> <p>“You’re a very pleasant person to be around,” they said, leaning their head against Forrest’s shoulder, “And you’re my plus one,”</p> <p>Their comments made Forrest smile. It wasn’t an answer, yet it answered everything. It was a worldview only Randolph could have had, that because Greazeburger chose Forrest as their plus one, they HAD to be soulmates.</p> <p>At least, that was what Forrest got from those comments.</p> <p>The gross sounds and awful odors were pushed to the back of both of their minds, as Forrest began having thoughts. Randolph looked handsome… and at this angle Forrest saw them in an even more handsome way, their body covered in sweat and their hair, formerly neatly combed, was messy and displaced.</p> <p>Forrest’s breath hitched, his lips drying as he looked away for a second, wiping his nose before turning back to Randolph.</p> <p>“What would you like to do then?” asked Forrest.</p> <p>“I don’t know,” Randolph replied, “but I want it to be with you,”</p> <p>“Well, uh…” Forrest said, thinking. There wasn’t much to do up on that platform, yet an idea popped into the anomaly’s mind.</p> <p>“Have you… ever been hugged before?” Forrest asked.</p> <p>Randolph shook their head.</p> <p>“Well…” Forrest took a deep breath, “Wanna hug?”</p> <p>Randolph hesitated, but ultimately nodded their head. “I do…”</p> <p>Forrest wrapped his arms around Randolph, the businessperson’s arms going limp. Makes sense they didn't know how to hug, Forrest doubted anyone was allowed to touch them without signing 15 legal papers.</p> <p>“Mmm…” Randolph grunted, “Good…”</p> <p>Forrest split from the hug, but Randolph kept their face planted firmly against Forrest’s chest. This caused the anomaly to let out an actual giggle. It was small, but it was noticeable.</p> <p>He placed his hand behind Randolph’s head and ruffled their hair. This was the most emotion Randolph had ever shown from what Forrest could tell.</p> <p>“Alright… let’s stop this…” Forrest said. Randolph reluctantly got off of his chest and adjusted their tie.</p> <p>The two sat down near the edge of the pot, looking into the gaping maw of the container, and the massive blob of cheese that lay beneath them.</p> <p>“That does not look appetizing at all,” Forrest said.</p> <p>“Yeah…” Randolph replied, “It’s kinda… underwhelming,”</p> <p>Forrest turned to look at Randolph, “What do you mean?”</p> <p>Randolph sighed, “My coworkers kept saying that the pizza was the best thing since <a href="/the-greazeburger-other-holiday-special">that Halloween party last year</a>, yet… I don’t know…”</p> <p>“Hm…” Forrest sighed.</p> <p>The two sat in silence as if they had run out of words to say. Even if they had only just met an indeterminable amount of hours ago, the duo basked in each other’s presence.</p> <p>This peaceful moment came tumbling down when a voice unfamiliar to Forrest spoke from behind.</p> <p>“Hello!” it said, “Apologies for the delay, we had an outbreak on Floor 17,”</p> <p>Both Forrest and Randolph looked up at the source of the voice, a tall person in a business suit identical to Randolph’s. At the sight of the person, Randolph jumped and got on their knees.</p> <p>“Please, Martin!” pleaded Randolph, “Please give me my job back!”</p> <p>“I’m afraid I can’t, Randolph,” the person, supposedly named Martin, said, before pushing Randolph over the edge of the pot with their foot.</p> <p>Randolph screamed as they fell down the side, colliding with the melted cheese. Forrest looked down into the pot and could see Randolph’s skin bubbling and falling off, blood staining the cheese.</p> <p>Forrest couldn’t look away, yet he had to. He had to forcefully peel his eyes from the scene to concentrate his gaze on the person who pushed them in.</p> <p>“I… apologize you had to witness that,” Martin said, “Martin Greaze, head of Greazeburger Earth,”</p> <p>They held out their hand, but Forrest didn’t take it. Disappointedly, Martin took their hand back.</p> <p>“On behalf of Greazeburger, I would like to apologize for the poor quality of this Greazeburger Vacation™,” said Martin, “As compensation, have a t-shirt!”</p> <p>Martin pulled a yellow tee from underneath their jacket and handed it to Forrest. The corporate head cupped Forrest’s hands in his own hands before speaking to the confused Forrest.</p> <p>“Now, let me return you home,”</p> <p>Sheer confusion was the last thing Forrest could feel before his mind faded.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>After Action Report: Incident 7513-97</strong></p> <p><strong>Residing Personnel:</strong> Dr. Christian Abspoel</p> <p><strong>Date of Incident:</strong> 2023/01/27</p> <p><strong>Anomalies Involved:</strong> SCP-7513</p> <p><strong>Group(s) of Interest Involved:</strong> GoI-7795 (<a href="/greazeburger-incorporated-hub">Greazeburger Incorporated</a>)</p> <p><strong>Description of Events:</strong> On 2023/01/27, SCP-7513 awoke from its sleep screaming. While this wouldn’t be unusual, what was unusual was that SCP-7513 had a t-shirt in its possession that it didn’t have before sleeping, as well as a business card belonging to one Randolph Greaze.</p> <p>Upon further investigation, the t-shirt and business card both belonged to GoI-7795 (Greazeburger Incorporated). When questioned, SCP-7513 described meeting an individual named Randolph Greaze, with the two building a rapport with each other before an encounter with PoI-7795 (Martin Greaze).</p> <p>During the interview, SCP-7513 displayed knowledge of GoI-7795 that it would not have known before the incident, as well as told the Foundation about an acquisition involving minor parts used in the creation of Foundation-issued pagers done by GoI-7795, one that the Foundation was not aware of before the incident.</p> <p>This incident coincides with a brief corruption of SCP-7513’s pager for several minutes before its awakening, which SCP-7513 explains is due to its abduction by GoI-7795.</p> <p>The Foundation will further investigate GoI-7795’s activities and acquisitions, as well as its connections to extraterrestrial life forms.</p> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>This tale was written for <a href="/romcon">RomCon</a>. Shout out to <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mooagain" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5975504); return false;"><img alt="Mooagain " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5975504&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188511" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5975504)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mooagain" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5975504); return false;">Mooagain</a></span> for creating Randolph Greaze. Please see their version of Forrest and Randolph's relationship here! <em>(Not Yet Posted)</em></strong></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/plus-one">Plus One</a>" by Capriccio Farce, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/plus-one">https://scpwiki.com/plus-one</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] White. Whiteness was all that filled [[[SCP-7513\|Forrest O'Sullivan]]]’s gaze when he gained consciousness. Confusion set in. He reached his hands out. They were still there. Then came the panic. Forrest could only think of one thing that could happen to him. Statistically, it was the only odd thing that could happen to him. He was abducted by aliens. Forrest was an unwilling alien magnet. Aliens either wanted to bang him or make him their king and he hated that. Feeling around, he could tell he was still wearing his orange Foundation-issued jumpsuit. His hands reached for his pockets. He sighed in relief as his pager was still there. After a breach at Site-13 which resulted in aliens almost abducting him, Forrest was given an emergency pager that works anywhere, in reality, should an abduction be successful. Pulling it out, he found the pager worked fine, but the reception was shit. Forrest started to sweat, stuffing the pager back in his pocket. Was this what was gonna be his end? He crouched down, holding his knees to his chest and slightly rocking back and forth. This was the worst-case scenario. All of the protections the Foundation had given him didn’t work, and he was alone in an alien world with no way to fend for himself. The odds were insurmountable. If these aliens could block out the Foundation’s “anywhere in reality” pager, then he stood no chance. He heard footfalls and his head shot up, eyes widened as his face was covered in sweat. He made out the shape of a humanoid entity approaching him. As they approached, Forrest backed up quickly, adrenaline rushing through his system. His back hit a wall. Shit! Of course, this white void had walls! Sweat rolled down his face, watching the figure get closer and closer. The more it got closer, the more details Forrest could make out. They resembled a masculine and kinda handsome human wearing a business suit and a suitcase, having slicked-back black hair and brown eyes. Outside of appearing in this strange realm, the being seemed to look like a normal human being. Forrest curled himself up into a ball, whimpering and crying as the footsteps continued. They stopped. Forrest was starting to hyperventilate, sweat dripping down his face as he waited for the worst to happen, only for the worst to never come. “Greetings!” the being spoke, “You must be my plus one for this wonderful company-mandated vacation!” Forrest looked up at the being, a strange smile on their face, seemingly completely unaware of the apparent fear on Forrest’s face. “P-please don’t… don’t…” Forrest sputtered out, “Don’t come any closer! Don’t do anything!” “What do you mean?” responded the being, “The only thing we’ll be doing is enjoying this company-mandated vacation! Congratulations on winning the special lottery, by the way,” “I didn’t sign up for any stupid lottery!” Forrest shouted back, “Don’t be coy, alien! I know what your kind wants me to do, and I won’t do it! I’m an alien sex magnet, for Christ’s sake, it's obvious!” “Sex? I have no genitals!” said the entity, “That’s part of a ███████ premium subscription, after all!” Forrest started to ease his breathing as the entity spoke. He still didn’t trust them to not harm him (after all, how was this thing able to say ███████ with their mouth), but Forrest could tell that whatever it was, it was telling the truth. “[[[The Greazeburger Holiday Special\|Randolph Greaze]]], for Greazeburger,” said the being, “As for the lottery, all Greazeburger customers are automatically added to the lottery of potential plus ones to company-mandated vacations of all Greazeburger staff. I was recently awarded a lovely one-day company-mandated vacation, and you were selected as my plus one!” They held out their hand, holding a business card with the word GREAZEBURGER emblazoned on it, “Randolph Greaze, an employee of Greazeburger,” This was ridiculous, yet Forrest was still wary. Forrest tucked the business card into his jumpsuit pocket. He introduced himself, “Forrest... but… the Foundation calls me SCP-7513,” “The Foundation?” Randolph asked, “You mean the SCP Foundation?” Forrest nodded. “Oh, that’s a terrible shame that someone like you works for that stinky society!” They said, “Don’t you know they’re a bunch of neckbeard recluses who don’t enjoy the fun?” “Uhh…” Forrest didn’t know how to respond, “I don’t… work for them? I just… listen, whatever, I don’t care, all I care about is that you claim that this supposed lottery was through Greazeburger customers… yet I didn’t buy anything from this… Greazeburger thing. What the hell is this about?" “Oh, but you did!” Randolph said, “You are the owner of a pager, that pager has a small component in it that was created by a company that was recently bought by Greazeburger Earth to get more ingredients for Greaze Juice. As such, that makes you eligible for the lottery!” “Right…” Randolph smacked the wall Forrest backed into, a metal ringing echoing through the void. “Looks like we got lucky today, ey?” Randolph said, “We’re going to enjoy a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza, just for the two of us!” Forrest turned around, noticing that the wall wasn’t a wall, but rather a tall metallic cylinder with a ladder on the side, presumably a tall pot. The pot started to groan and gurgle, which made Randolph laugh out loud. “It’s extra Greazy today!” With that, Randolph bounded to the ladder and made their way up the pot before stopping and jumping down, running up to Forrest and patting his socks. “What are you doing?” Forrest asked, to which Randolph smiled. “Cleaning your socks, of course!” they responded, “The Foundation is well known for dunking people’s socks in mayo, after all. That’s what my boss told me,” “Right…” As Randolph finished up, Forrest ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Randolph got onto the pot’s ladder and began to make their way up the steep structure. Forrest, with nothing else to do and no way out of this white void, made his way to the ladder and began to climb. It was a long way up. The ladder was tall, and Forrest couldn’t see the top, even after roughly an hour of climbing. Forrest had a feeling he was still at the beginning of the climb. Randolph hummed a happy tune while climbing, very clearly happy to be here. After a few hours, there seemed to be a small checkpoint, decked out with two lawn chairs and two bottles of Greazeburger brand water. Taking the opportunity the duo sat down, stretching and regaining their strength. “Hey, uh, Randolph?” said Forrest, “How much longer is this climb?” Randolph responded quickly, “I'm not sure the exact distance, but I'd say it'll take 10 hours of just climbing, as there are two hours of climbing between each checkpoint from what I've heard," Silence filled the room before Randolph spoke again. "Have you had a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza before?" they asked. “No, I’ve never even heard of Greazeburger before,” Forrest said, “Is it a sort of… alien fast food joint?” “No...” said Randolph, “Greazeburger is the Holy Corporation run by the Creator Enlightened Omnipotent, Ebenezer Greaze. Blessed be Him," "Right..." Silence once again. "Y'know, what is your deal with aliens?" asked Randolph, "You've mentioned it multiple times. You said you were an alien sex magnet before, what does that mean?" Forrest simply sighed and paused for a second before explaining himself. "I'm an alien magnet..." he said, "Aliens either wanna... yannow... bang me or do some romantic courting ritual," "Really?" Randolph asked, eyes widening in curiosity. "Yeah, I once almost got abducted at a nightclub by some bee race," Forrest said, "It wasn't successful, though," "What, did they give up?" Randolph asked. "No, I had a fake flower on me that spurted water... long story... and I spurted it in the alien's eye," Forrest said, "Some guy caught me, and after some investigation the Foundation took me in for protection. Said I was a statistical anomaly," “Wow!” Randolph said, his eyes sparkling, “If I got abducted I would be fired!” "Well then call me fired...", Forrest replied, "Because that's what your Greazeburger did to me..." An awkward silence filled the air once again. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Randolph got up and headed back towards the ladder, beckoning Forrest to follow. Reluctantly, Forrest got up and the duo continued onwards. As they progressed, Forrest could swear he could hear the inside of the pot… screaming? Oh, god. He could smell the pizza… It was horrendous. A putrid stench that was like a mixture of fast food grease and rotten cheese. “Oh… what the fuck’s in this?” Forrest exclaimed, “It stinks!” “It’s a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza, of course!” Randolph replied, "Have you been listening?" "Yes, I have!" Forrest choked on the air, "Whatever's in that pizza smells like shit!" “If you’re unsatisfied, I could call my boss to come here and send you home,” Randolph said, “But we have to reach the top first, as he can only enter this Greazeburger Vacation Realm™ at the top of the pot,” Of course, they had to reach the top first. Go figure. Forrest sighed and tried to clumsily cover his nose with his jumpsuit, but couldn’t due to the whole ladder situation. Not even breathing through his mouth could stop the stench from wafting into his nostrils. He eventually gave up, grit his teeth, and continued in silence. It was a little while until the next checkpoint came, and the duo climbed onto the platform and kicked their feet back. They sat in silence for the most part until the silence was broken by Forrest. "If this is a Vacation Realm or whatever why is it a white void?" he asked. Randolph shrugged, "If I had to guess, it would be because not everyone has the same ideal vacation destination," Forrest nodded his head. He couldn't argue with that. Once again, silence permeated the area. It was interrupted by Randolph this time. “What do you do in the SCP Foundation?” they asked, “What’s your job description? I move numbers around in a spreadsheet to make sure that more glorious business could be done,” “I, uh…” Forrest said, “I don't work for them, I’m just under protection from them. They’re protecting me from the aliens,” “And in return?” asked Randolph. Forrest looked up, "What do you mean by that?" “It’s bad business to do something for free,” Randolph replied, “No profit could be made. What do you do to make money for them?” “I… I don’t make money for them,” Forrest said, “They’re doing it for research because I’m statistically impossible, not for money." “But… how will they make money if they don't use every asset they have?” asked Randolph. “They don’t need to make money!” Forrest suddenly snapped, “They already have enough!” “But more money is always good! That’s what His Holiness says!” Forrest wanted to shout at Randolph, grab them by the arms and shake them and tell them to not worship their CEO like a god. Yet it would be counter-intuitive, and waste more energy than necessary. He took several deep breaths, not wanting to flip out on the only company he had. The duo resumed their climb once more, the noises in the pizza getting louder and louder, gross gurgling and screaming and crunching sounds. At one point, the pizza boomed, and the pot shook. Both Forrest and Randolph stopped their climb and braced themselves for the worst, yet nothing happened. Both were relatively safe, and they both continued on their journey, Randolph still humming merrily. As the climb continued, Forrest couldn’t help but feel sorry for Randolph. While they were completely brainwashed by this Greazeburger corporate machine, Forrest couldn’t help but feel there was something underneath, a real person who could exist for themself and not because a boardroom told them to. Forrest hated corporations. He's seen the effects of working a corporate job so many times in his life while visiting his dad who worked a cubicle job. His dad got so depressed he would come home, pass out, and wake up without ever seeing the sun. Even during bring your kid to work days, the meaningless rattle and click-clack of computer keys drove him insane. Randolph probably lives eternally under that bore, no wonder all they think about is profit. A part of Forrest was telling him to reach out and save Randolph from that hell, seeing the real person Randolph was underneath, yet another part was screaming in self-preservation. It was screaming that an organization that seemed as powerful as Greazeburger, who was able to kidnap Forrest from containment in Site-13 because he owned a pager that had a component bought by the company, would probably kill Forrest at any chance they could if he tried to convince Randolph to defect. Besides, Forrest and Randolph just met around four hours ago. Why would Forrest risk his life for someone who was a stranger? But there was this nagging feeling Forrest had, maybe it was the stench and the screaming pizza talking, but he felt as if Randolph and himself were both in immense danger, more danger than they already were in climbing a giant pot with no protection. So… Forrest risked everything. “Hey, Randolph,” he called out, “What would you do if you didn’t work for Greazeburger?” “What do you mean?” asked Randolph, “Why would I ever want to work anywhere else?” “Just…” Forrest took a deep breath, “Think, hypothetically, what if Greazeburger didn’t exist-” Randolph gasped in offense. “How dare you! Greazeburger is a constant! The world needs our great Greaze, blessed be the holy grease fire,” “Think for yourself!” Forrest cried out, “What do you want? Completely remove the company from your thoughts!” Randolph stopped in their tracks and looked at Forrest. “What I want is to make money for Greazeburger,” said Randolph, “I do glorious business for the glorious company, and I take pride in my work.” “Do you know why you work there?” Forrest asked. “I work there because it’s what I was born to do,” Randolph said, “That's what my boss told me, at least...” “Nobody’s supposed to live like that,” Forrest said, “Just… doing work for work’s sake… I think that’s kinda sad." Randolph didn’t say a word, they merely continued onwards, climbing upwards at a hastened pace. It was obvious the businessperson was fuming, taking personal offense over Forrest’s comments. As the odyssey continued, the stench worsened. It smelled like death, and the screaming got louder, and there was banging on the side of the pot. Forrest could feel unknown hands pounding on the side, begging for release. It made him shudder. Randolph and Forrest continued to climb in silence, save for the occasional retch Forrest was making. Randolph even stopped their humming. Forrest didn’t realize he liked their humming until now. It was a weird guiding light in the craziness of this whole scenario. “God… I feel like I’m gonna vomit…” Forrest said after a particularly bad retch. Randolph didn’t seem to acknowledge Forrest’s retching, but when the next checkpoint arrived and both of them sat down to relax, Randolph turned to Forrest. “Are you enjoying yourself?” they asked as if they were a corporate questionnaire on a website. Forrest grunted, “We’ve been climbing this tall ass ladder non-stop for hours! We’ve been smelling the worst smells and I’m pretty sure the pizza is screaming! How can I think any of this is fun?” “It’s fun because the fun department assigned this as fun!” Randolph said, actually raising his voice for once, “If the fun department assigns this as fun, then it’s fun, alright?” “You guys have a fun department?” Forrest asked. “Of course we do!” Randolph answered, “But of course, the SCP Foundation doesn’t have a fun department, all of them hate fun!” It was a long and awkward pause, the two of them sitting in silence. After a little while they both made their way to the ladder and continued climbing. The duo were making it closer and closer to the top of the pot. They could see many stains from the grease on the pizza rusting away at the metal on the pot. The ladder was also poorly maintained near the top, with some of the rungs rusted to the point that the entire rung was overtaken by rust. The noises got worse, getting grosser and more terrifying each time they climbed a rusty rung. The stench got worse too, somehow getting even more rotten the closer they got to the top. The next checkpoint was taken in complete silence. The duo didn't speak to each other, yet their eyes were locked onto each other the entire time. A mutual agreement was made in their minds: if they were raised differently then they would be friends. As they continued with their climb, Forrest started to feel dizzy in his head. His hands started to burn and his feet started to ache. “Fuck… I think I’m gonna pass out…” Forrest huffed. Randolph looked back, “We've got an hour until we reach the top! You're doing great! You can make it,” they said. Forest shook his head, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m gonna make it…” “Yes, you can!” Randolph said, “You can make it!” Forrest nodded and continued upwards, but the pain started to get worse and worse, and his vision started to get blurry and dizzy. His head started to spin. He couldn’t think about anything but resting his head. "How long until the next checkpoint?" Forrest asked. "That was the last checkpoint earlier," Randolph replied. As if on cue, Forrest's grip loosened on the rung, he could feel his head moving and shifting and twirling. The pot rumbled and shook. Randolph stopped and braced themself, but looked down to find Forrest was hanging on by a mere thread… and that thread was about to burst. The last thing Forrest remembered before passing out was a hand grabbing his wrist. ----- When Forrest woke up again, he was on solid ground. Whiteness filled his vision once again as he hazily awoke. His senses regained themselves. He could feel that he was on a grated floor, and soon he started to remember as his ears filled with the horrible gurgling of the pizza and his nose filled with that awful rotting stench. He shot up, and his eyes met with Randolph’s. The businessperson sighed, smiling at Forrest. “Oh, you’re alright!” they said, “I wasn’t about to lose my plus one!” “What happened?” Forrest groggily asked, his head still spinning. He attempted to ground himself, placing his hands inside the holes of the metal grating. “You passed out,” Randolph spoke, straightening their tie, “I, fortunately, caught you, and carried you up to the top of the pot so we can enjoy the Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza!” Forrest nodded along with what Randolph was saying, taking a few seconds to recuperate himself before standing up. He stumbled a little, but Randolph grabbed his waist to help him stay up. Forrest’s arms and legs burned, and he was sore all over. He bent over and coughed, some spit falling out of his mouth and through the metal grating. Randolph patted him on the back. Randolph’s hands moved upwards to Forrest’s shoulders, their palms digging into the anomaly’s shoulder blades. Forrest sighed, unsure if shoulder massages could help with vertigo. It did feel nice, though. Forrest split from the massage Randolph was giving him, taking a few hesitant steps toward the edge of the pot. His curiosity got the better of him. He was careful not to fall, as there were no guard rails. When he looked into the pot he could see a massive pulsating blob of what appeared to be cheese moving rhythmically. Bubbles formed on the surface, popping with an awful squelch, emitting horrendous fumes, accompanied by the sound of screaming. “Aren’t you excited?” Randolph asked, “You get to try out a Greazeburger Hot-n-Ready Deep Deep Deep Deep Deep Dish Pizza! That’s gotta be pretty exciting!” “I’m not sure,” Forrest said, backing away from the edge. He felt as if he stood there any longer he would vomit. “Well, you better be!” Randolph said. The businessperson patted Forrest on the back once again, before making their way over to an envelope on a table. “See? My boss even wrote a personal letter for both of us!” Randolph spoke, “How considerate!” Forrest looked at the envelope. It had the Greazeburger logo on the top left corner where the return address was, and the letter had Randolph’s name on it. The businessperson excitedly grabbed the letter and ripped it open, smiling ear to ear. Yet, as Randolph’s eyes scanned the paper, their smile faded until a point where the expression on their face was nothing more than shock. They dropped the paper, and Forrest was able to get a good look at it. [[div class="blockquote"]] Mx. Randolph Greaze, We regret to inform you that your employment with Greazeburger Inc. has been terminated effective immediately. Profits in your sector fell by 0.01% during your absence, and as such you will be blamed. You will be replaced effective immediately, and your company-mandated vacation time will be cut short. Your final check will not be delivered, and the consequences will be immediate. I will arrive shortly after you read this letter. Thank you for your service to Greazeburger Inc. Regards, Mx. Martin Greaze Head of Greazeburger Earth [[/div]] Randolph fell to their knees, covering their face with their hands and letting out shaking sobs. Forrest sighed once again, approaching the businessperson. Or… well… former businessperson. Forrest hesitantly patted Randolph on the back, before rubbing his hand in circles. He wasn’t too familiar with physical affection, but this was what Randolph did to him and it kinda worked so maybe it’ll help. After a few minutes of letting Randolph sob, Forrest spoke up. “Hey, look on the bright side,” he said, “Every day’s a vacation now! No longer company-mandated vacation time but… you mandated?” “I can’t… I can’t function without… without Greazeburger…” Randolph cried “I-I’m part of the family…” Forrest sat down next to Randolph. “Well… it looks like you’ll have to learn…” Forrest said, “Think about it, all the pizzas you want all over the world! Don’t you want to see the world?” “N-no… I wanna work for… for Greazeburger…” Randolph said, swallowing their tears. “Look… you’re free!” Forrest said, “Do whatever you want to do! No boss to tell you what to do!” Randolph turned to Forrest, a dumbfounded look on their face. “Why would anyone not want to have a boss?” Randolph asked, confused at the notion. Forrest sighed, deeply regretting trying to talk to Randolph in that way. It seems like they couldn't even fathom things in non-business terms. “Although…” Forrest turned his attention to Randolph. The ex-employee of Greazeburger slid towards him and up against his body. “I would like to spend some time with my plus one,” they said, “You were a very pleasant plus one, I would like to spend more time with you,” Forrest was confused. All he did was complain, yet somehow Randolph considered the experience… pleasant? “How?” Forrest asked, to which Randolph just smiled. “You’re a very pleasant person to be around,” they said, leaning their head against Forrest’s shoulder, “And you’re my plus one,” Their comments made Forrest smile. It wasn’t an answer, yet it answered everything. It was a worldview only Randolph could have had, that because Greazeburger chose Forrest as their plus one, they HAD to be soulmates. At least, that was what Forrest got from those comments. The gross sounds and awful odors were pushed to the back of both of their minds, as Forrest began having thoughts. Randolph looked handsome… and at this angle Forrest saw them in an even more handsome way, their body covered in sweat and their hair, formerly neatly combed, was messy and displaced. Forrest’s breath hitched, his lips drying as he looked away for a second, wiping his nose before turning back to Randolph. “What would you like to do then?” asked Forrest. “I don’t know,” Randolph replied, “but I want it to be with you,” “Well, uh…” Forrest said, thinking. There wasn’t much to do up on that platform, yet an idea popped into the anomaly’s mind. “Have you… ever been hugged before?” Forrest asked. Randolph shook their head. “Well…” Forrest took a deep breath, “Wanna hug?” Randolph hesitated, but ultimately nodded their head. “I do…” Forrest wrapped his arms around Randolph, the businessperson’s arms going limp. Makes sense they didn't know how to hug, Forrest doubted anyone was allowed to touch them without signing 15 legal papers. “Mmm…” Randolph grunted, “Good…” Forrest split from the hug, but Randolph kept their face planted firmly against Forrest’s chest. This caused the anomaly to let out an actual giggle. It was small, but it was noticeable. He placed his hand behind Randolph’s head and ruffled their hair. This was the most emotion Randolph had ever shown from what Forrest could tell. “Alright… let’s stop this…” Forrest said. Randolph reluctantly got off of his chest and adjusted their tie. The two sat down near the edge of the pot, looking into the gaping maw of the container, and the massive blob of cheese that lay beneath them. “That does not look appetizing at all,” Forrest said. “Yeah…” Randolph replied, “It’s kinda… underwhelming,” Forrest turned to look at Randolph, “What do you mean?” Randolph sighed, “My coworkers kept saying that the pizza was the best thing since [[[The Greazeburger Other Holiday Special\|that Halloween party last year]]], yet… I don’t know…” “Hm…” Forrest sighed. The two sat in silence as if they had run out of words to say. Even if they had only just met an indeterminable amount of hours ago, the duo basked in each other’s presence. This peaceful moment came tumbling down when a voice unfamiliar to Forrest spoke from behind. “Hello!” it said, “Apologies for the delay, we had an outbreak on Floor 17,” Both Forrest and Randolph looked up at the source of the voice, a tall person in a business suit identical to Randolph’s. At the sight of the person, Randolph jumped and got on their knees. “Please, Martin!” pleaded Randolph, “Please give me my job back!” “I’m afraid I can’t, Randolph,” the person, supposedly named Martin, said, before pushing Randolph over the edge of the pot with their foot. Randolph screamed as they fell down the side, colliding with the melted cheese. Forrest looked down into the pot and could see Randolph’s skin bubbling and falling off, blood staining the cheese. Forrest couldn’t look away, yet he had to. He had to forcefully peel his eyes from the scene to concentrate his gaze on the person who pushed them in. “I… apologize you had to witness that,” Martin said, “Martin Greaze, head of Greazeburger Earth,” They held out their hand, but Forrest didn’t take it. Disappointedly, Martin took their hand back. “On behalf of Greazeburger, I would like to apologize for the poor quality of this Greazeburger Vacation™,” said Martin, “As compensation, have a t-shirt!” Martin pulled a yellow tee from underneath their jacket and handed it to Forrest. The corporate head cupped Forrest’s hands in his own hands before speaking to the confused Forrest. “Now, let me return you home,” Sheer confusion was the last thing Forrest could feel before his mind faded. ----- [[div class="blockquote"]] After Action Report: Incident 7513-97 Residing Personnel: Dr. Christian Abspoel Date of Incident: 2023/01/27 Anomalies Involved: SCP-7513 Group(s) of Interest Involved: GoI-7795 ([[[Greazeburger Incorporated Hub\|Greazeburger Incorporated]]]) Description of Events: On 2023/01/27, SCP-7513 awoke from its sleep screaming. While this wouldn’t be unusual, what was unusual was that SCP-7513 had a t-shirt in its possession that it didn’t have before sleeping, as well as a business card belonging to one Randolph Greaze. Upon further investigation, the t-shirt and business card both belonged to GoI-7795 (Greazeburger Incorporated). When questioned, SCP-7513 described meeting an individual named Randolph Greaze, with the two building a rapport with each other before an encounter with PoI-7795 (Martin Greaze). During the interview, SCP-7513 displayed knowledge of GoI-7795 that it would not have known before the incident, as well as told the Foundation about an acquisition involving minor parts used in the creation of Foundation-issued pagers done by GoI-7795, one that the Foundation was not aware of before the incident. This incident coincides with a brief corruption of SCP-7513’s pager for several minutes before its awakening, which SCP-7513 explains is due to its abduction by GoI-7795. The Foundation will further investigate GoI-7795’s activities and acquisitions, as well as its connections to extraterrestrial life forms. [[/div]] ----- *This tale was written for [[[romcon\|RomCon]]]. Shout out to [[user Mooagain]] for creating Randolph Greaze. Please see their version of Forrest and Randolph's relationship here! //(Not Yet Posted)//** [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Capriccio Farce]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-29T21:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "greazeburger", "romcon2023-unofficial", "tale" ]	Plus One - SCP Foundation	7	[ "scp-7513", "the-greazeburger-holiday-special", "the-greazeburger-other-holiday-special", "greazeburger-incorporated-hub", "romcon", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon" ]	[]	1447967103	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/plus-one
poem	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aminimalist-bhl/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>Too tired to sleep.</em><br/> <em>Kept awake by gossiping</em><br/> <em>strangers up above.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>Your left hand stands mightily.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>Watching you.<br/> Surveilling you from a<br/> little perch, high in the darkness, floating there just out of reach.<br/> You miss your hand,<br/> its dexterous fingers,<br/> but you know your place now, far, far away from their sinewy love.<br/> However you plead<br/> however you beg,<br/> you know, deep deep down inside, you don't deserve it back.<br/> You watch it<br/> less-than wave.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>Just courtesy. Courtesy.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>The Other hand is watching too.<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Watching you.<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Watching you watch<br/> no, stare, desperately, for hours at a time at its rival floating high.<br/> Unrequited, jealous.<br/> It doesn't deserve this,<br/> but as hard as it tries, the Other can't make you feel the same way.<br/> It never gets the hint.<br/> You two don't work,<br/> but you give the Other a little too much of a nod, and it twitches,<br/> reinvigorated<br/> a clumsy wave.<br/> Much more than courtesy.<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>This is getting rough.</em><br/> <em>Please just reign those fingers in.</em><br/> <em>You have work to do.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>You're still drowsy<br/> fingers waving<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> tapping<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> dancing<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> in the air.<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Almost walking<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> more so walking<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> than another useless pair.<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Down below<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> dropped ahead<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> feet made much too small to roam<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> but your finger feet are right at home<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> performing in their stead<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> while left handed; once<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> you do not use it<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>right at home.</p> </div> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>you left</p> </div> <p>For<br/> work.<br/> Work needs to<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>be<br/> in places for working, and that can't be here.<br/> Move! get out of your bed and into the loving<br/> Work<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>place.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>That took long enough.</em><br/> <em>Time to get some real work done.</em><br/> <em>No more hand business.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>but<br/> right<br/> now<br/> you<br/> are<br/> hungry<br/> and<br/> that's<br/> why<br/> you<br/> are<br/> tired<br/> and<br/> won't<br/> work<br/> and<br/> also<br/> maybe<br/> figure out what<br/> work<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>is<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>what<br/> are<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>you<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>doing<br/> here<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>is<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>this<br/> good<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>is<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>this<br/> work<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>a<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>good</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>bagel bagel bagel<br/> bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel<br/> bagel bagel bagel a bagel bagel bagel<br/> bagel bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel bagel<br/> bagel one bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel one bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel<br/> bagel one bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel one bagel<br/> bagel bagel a bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel a bagel bagel<br/> bagel bagel bagel a bagel bagel bagel<br/> bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel<br/> bagel bagel bagel</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>bagel<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>bagel</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>bagel.<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <br/> Look.<br/> Look at you.<br/> You can't work with<br/> hands covered in crumbs.<br/> Unprofessional. Wipe them down<br/> with a napkin. Napkins are<br/> not work. Clean<br/> hands are<br/> work.</div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>That's so crazy, dude.</em><br/> <em>Now it's time to use your hands.</em><br/> <em>If not now then when.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <p>the<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>balled<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>napkin<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>lands<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>with<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>a<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>swish</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>You'd have thought you'd miss.</em><br/> <em>Blame those chatty hands of yours.</em><br/> <em>Check just to be sure.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Look deep down in the trash bin.<br/> It<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>is<br/> in<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> isn't </span>it?<br/> It<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>is<br/> sitting in the bin is not a napkin</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>grab it</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Dig down deep into the trash bin.<br/> It<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>is<br/> but<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>can<br/> not<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>be<br/> sitting in the bin once you take it.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>unfold it</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"No."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>you need to</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"No."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>This is not a napkin, Alex.</em></p> <p><em>This is work.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>And your work</em></p> <p><em>Is</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="page"> <p>Pushing the pencil against a piece of paper; forcing words out of a stick caught between two fingers wildly contorting and twisting in ways you wish you didn't have to think about. As you do, you feel your grip shift, taught shift, that the only way you were comfortable holding it was wrong, and it was left at that, and the paper was left to the wayside for the scripture carved into the air, burnt into your mind, carved out of you, searing, like graphite pushing onto the page; leaving behind runes and shapes with no meaning except "pushing the pencil against a piece of paper", forcing the words to make sense as they get stuck between your fingers, twisted and contorted because you can't think in anything but poetry that shifts, taught to shift the way you think, because the way you are comfortable thinking is wrong, and that what isn't is right, your feelings left to the wayside for the scripture carved into their words, burnt into your mind, carved out of you, searing, like graphite pushing onto the page.</p> </div> <p style="text-align: center;">your eyes close</p> <p style="text-align: center;">you pause</p> <p style="text-align: center;">again</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>widen</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>blink</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Nothing.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>You're glad that's cleared up.</em><br/> <em>You don't need to know your hands</em><br/> <em>if you do no work.</em></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/poem">Alex Thorley Writes A Poem</a>" by IndustryStandard, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/poem">https://scpwiki.com/poem</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:minimalist-bhl">:scp-wiki:theme:minimalist-bhl</a>]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "Department of Unreality"; --header-subtitle: "Making the Unreal a ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"; --lgurl: url('http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/unreality-hub/Unreality%20Header%20Logo.svg'); } [[/module]] [[module css]] .page { display: block; overflow: hidden; font-family: "Monotype Corsiva", "Bradley Hand ITC", sans-serif; font-style: normal; background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-color: transparent; background-image: linear-gradient(to top ,rgb(202, 219, 228) 0%, rgb(252, 252, 252) 8%); background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0px 8px; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: 100% 20px; border: 1px solid #CCC; border-radius: 10px; padding: 10px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0px 1px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) } .page p, .page ul { line-height: 20px; margin: 0; } [[/module]] ---- [[=]] //Too tired to sleep.// //Kept awake by gossiping// //strangers up above.// [[/=]] ---- @@ @@Your left hand stands mightily. @@ @@Watching you. Surveilling you from a little perch, high in the darkness, floating there just out of reach. You miss your hand, its dexterous fingers, but you know your place now, far, far away from their sinewy love. However you plead however you beg, you know, deep deep down inside, you don't deserve it back. You watch it less-than wave. @@ @@Just courtesy. Courtesy. [[>]] The Other hand is watching too.@@ @@ Watching you.@@ @@ Watching you watch no, stare, desperately, for hours at a time at its rival floating high. Unrequited, jealous. It doesn't deserve this, but as hard as it tries, the Other can't make you feel the same way. It never gets the hint. You two don't work, but you give the Other a little too much of a nod, and it twitches, reinvigorated a clumsy wave. Much more than courtesy.@@ @@ [[/>]] ---- [[=]] //This is getting rough.// //Please just reign those fingers in.// //You have work to do.// [[/=]] ---- [[>]] You're still drowsy fingers waving@@ @@ tapping@@ @@ dancing@@ @@ in the air.@@ @@ Almost walking@@ @@ more so walking@@ @@ than another useless pair.@@ @@ Down below@@ @@ dropped ahead@@ @@ feet made much too small to roam@@ @@ but your finger feet are right at home@@ @@ performing in their stead@@ @@ while left handed; once@@ @@ you do not use it@@ @@ right at home. [[/>]] [[=]] you left [[/=]] For work. Work needs to@@ @@be in places for working, and that can't be here. Move! get out of your bed and into the loving Work@@ @@place. ---- [[=]] //That took long enough.// //Time to get some real work done.// //No more hand business.// [[/=]] ---- [[=]] but right now you are hungry and that's why you are tired and won't work and also maybe figure out what work@@ @@is@@ @@what are@@ @@you@@ @@doing here@@ @@is@@ @@this good@@ @@is@@ @@this work@@ @@a@@ @@good @@ @@ @@ @@ bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel a bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel bagel one bagel@@ @@bagel one bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel one bagel@@ @@bagel one bagel bagel bagel a bagel@@ @@bagel a bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel a bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel bagel @@ @@ [[<]] bagel [[/<]] @@ @@ [[>]] bagel [[/>]] @@ @@ [[<]] @@ @@bagel [[/<]] @@ @@ [[>]] bagel@@ @@ [[/>]] @@ @@ [[<]] @@ @@bagel [[/<]] @@ @@ [[>]] bagel@@ @@ [[/>]] @@ @@ [[<]] @@ @@bagel [[/<]] @@ @@ [[>]] bagel@@ @@ [[/>]] @@ @@ [[<]] @@ @@bagel [[/<]] @@ @@ [[>]] bagel@@ @@ [[/>]] @@ @@ [[<]] @@ @@bagel [[/<]] @@ @@ [[>]] bagel.@@ @@ [[/>]] Look. Look at you. You can't work with hands covered in crumbs. Unprofessional. Wipe them down with a napkin. Napkins are not work. Clean hands are work. [[/=]] ---- [[=]] //That's so crazy, dude.// //Now it's time to use your hands.// //If not now then when.// [[/=]] ---- the @@ @@balled @@ @@ @@ @@napkin @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@lands @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@with @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@a @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@swish ---- [[=]] //You'd have thought you'd miss.// //Blame those chatty hands of yours.// //Check just to be sure.// [[/=]] ---- @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] Look deep down in the trash bin. It@@ @@is in@@ isn't @@it? It@@ @@is sitting in the bin is not a napkin @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //grab it// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Dig down deep into the trash bin. It@@ @@is but@@ @@can not@@ @@be sitting in the bin once you take it. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //unfold it// @@ @@ @@ @@ "No." @@ @@ @@ @@ //you need to// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ "No." @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //This is not a napkin, Alex.// //This is work.// @@ @@ @@ @@ //And your work// //Is// @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="page"]] Pushing the pencil against a piece of paper; forcing words out of a stick caught between two fingers wildly contorting and twisting in ways you wish you didn't have to think about. As you do, you feel your grip shift, taught shift, that the only way you were comfortable holding it was wrong, and it was left at that, and the paper was left to the wayside for the scripture carved into the air, burnt into your mind, carved out of you, searing, like graphite pushing onto the page; leaving behind runes and shapes with no meaning except "pushing the pencil against a piece of paper", forcing the words to make sense as they get stuck between your fingers, twisted and contorted because you can't think in anything but poetry that shifts, taught to shift the way you think, because the way you are comfortable thinking is wrong, and that what isn't is right, your feelings left to the wayside for the scripture carved into their words, burnt into your mind, carved out of you, searing, like graphite pushing onto the page. [[/div]] = your eyes close = you pause = again @@ @@ @@ @@ [[<]] widen [[/<]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[>]] blink [[/>]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="page"]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ //Nothing.// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[/=]] ---- [[=]] //You're glad that's cleared up.// //You don't need to know your hands// //if you do no work.// [[/=]] ---- [[include <a href="/component:license-box">component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:license-box-end">component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-09T22:26:00	[ "_licensebox", "alex-thorley", "poetry", "surrealism", "tale", "unreality-dept", "untitled-series" ]	Alex Thorley Writes A Poem - SCP Foundation	45	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "unreality-hub" ]	[]	1449328193	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poem
point-of-delirium	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3A3law/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Anorrack</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p><strong>SCP-7890</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anorrack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4188420); return false;"><img alt="Anorrack" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4188420&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720811485" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4188420)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anorrack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4188420); return false;">Anorrack</a></span></p> <p><a href="http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page">Author Page</a></p> <p>Articles you might enjoy:</p> <p><a href="/pullingyourstrings">Pulling Your Strings</a>: A man takes the night shift at the morgue on Halloween night. But what is that tapping, that inconstant, arrhythmic tapping, coming from deeper inside the building?</p> <p><a href="/scp-7890">SCP-7890</a>- M.T.F. S.O.L., S.N.A.F.U.: How do you fight a cartel that bends Lady Luck to its will? Fight fire with fire, and bring your own anomalies out to play.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uiu-file-2003-112">UIU File: 2003-112 (OPERATION: PANDORA)</a>: A new drug is running rampant on the streets of Three Portlands, and the UIU must find the gang responsible for its distribution before more people get hurt.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/walkin-slow">Don't Go Walking Slow</a>: A British offensive gone wrong, stranded behind enemy lines. What could be hidden underneath the topsoil of the Burmese jungle?</p> </div> </div> </div> <p>His brain was spongiform, more memes than gray matter, filled with Foundation deep-cleaners and aggressive Sov-agitprop eating away at the cerebellum. High-level Scarlet Hammer lieutenant, tattoos marking experience in Afghanistan, the Balkans, Georgia. Military training, with the buzz-cut to match, defected after the Berlin Wall into more stable employment in a criminal syndicate. Formed a gut in the interim, but still more muscle than fat, built like row of brick shit-houses.</p> <p>The man was a part of the Hammer’s Berlin branch, pawning off GRU-P stockpiles of military-grade amphetamines and psychotropics. A single milligram of either would make you see gods, them see you, and pop the heads of anyone within a block of your visitation. A single link in a massive titanium chain net cast over Central Europe, a parasite on the corpse of the Soviet Union, passing off its anomalous arms and drugs to the common proles. In a word, scum. Veil breach in two.</p> <p>Another person entered the blinding-white room, in coghaz gear and reflective sunglasses. Looking more like a metallic insect than man. This wasn’t the first time it had been here. The blue plastic clipboard in its grasp was the only hint of color in the monochromatic room, bee-buzzing light strips lining the walls washing it out.</p> <p>Black headphones were strapped to his head, the man suffused in disabling/warbling coghaz. His nervous system shook under the strain. The interrogator probably looked like a frightening, abominable sight to him through the smoke of his burning synapses, but he hadn’t soiled himself, yet.</p> <p><em>”Are angels arriving in arduous agony?”</em> The chrome beetle intoned in a perfect monotone. The headphone’s volume were lowered just enough for the man to hear them.</p> <p>The man almost instinctively arranged his tongue and teeth in a way to speak the trigger-phrase in a language he was not entirely familiar. <em>”Beauteous burning babes beckon by bonfire-light.”</em> The burbling in his eustachian tubes increased for a moment, and then relented. The fog in his head began to clear as the deep-cleaners rearranging his cerebrum completed their task, dissolving into base syntax.</p> <p>“Good. Now, state your name, age, and place of birth.” The insect shivered underneath its silver coghaz gear as the room’s sub-woofers layered the undertones of its spoken word with subsonic cognitoplexes, wriggling into the ears of the man strapped to the metal and leather chair.</p> <p>The man weakly shook against his padded restraints, before relenting to the carefully induced swarm of memes rewriting the neural architecture of his subconscious. He spoke carefully in his native tongue between panting breaths that tasted of copper, sourced from a burst vessel somewhere in his skull. <Kyrylo Petrovich. Forty-seven. A crowded hospital of bare concrete and cracked linoleum.></p> <p>The bug glanced at a large glass wall to its right, the color of a thallassian abyss. It looked back at Kyrylo and scrawled on its blue clipboard. “Good. <em>Barnyard. Railroad. Torch. Liquor.</em>”</p> <p>Kyrylo’s mouth and throat once more found animation without his consent. <em>”Neural construct in place. Maintaining integrity.”</em></p> <p>Another jot on the blue clipboard. It tilted its head slightly, the distorted reflection of Kyrylo in its sunglasses stared back at him. “Kyrylo Abramov, aged thirty-five, born in a wooden cabin, please deliver us the location of your superior.”</p> <p>The buzzing of the light strips seemed to intensify, mixing and morphing with the coghaz from the headphones, making it feel like a hundred-pound coin was placed in the center of his forehead. His reflection in the sunglasses was red and bloated. He gasped as his throat swelled. <Kyrylo… Petrovich.></p> <p>The insect frowned, a parody of sadness. “I’m sorry, that’s incorrect.” It twitched a knob set into the base in the chair, and the volume of the headphones rose to peaking levels for fifteen seconds before lowering back down to baseline.</p> <p>Kyrylo felt an itch in his amygdala. He didn’t remember his mother’s face.</p> <p>“Now, state your name, age, and place of birth.”</p> <p>His tongue felt numb, a lump of meat in his mouth. He tried to chew it to give it sensation, but choked on blood. <Kyrylo… Abramov, thirty-five, a small cabin in a pine forest.></p> <p>The pen scraping on the paper on the blue clipboard sounded like a fork on glass to him. “Good. <em>Factory. Loft. Flashlight. Cola.</em>”</p> <p>His torn tongue danced in his mouth, his teeth playing along. <em>”Connectivity overload. Personality matrix destabilizing.”</em></p> <p>A twitch of its hand, the volume of the headphones lowered a touch. He could breathe again. The lice in his amygdala stopped burrowing for the time being. “Kostyantyn Abramov, aged fifty-six, born in a penthouse, please deliver us the location of your superior.”</p> <p>The man’s eyes twitched, his torn fingernails rattled on the armrests in well worn grooves. How long has he been here? <Kostyantyn Abramov… fifty-six…></p> <p>The frown reversed itself, teeth matching the sterile walls of the room. He wished the frown would come back. “Good, Kostyantyn. <em>Pozhaluysta</em>, the location of your superior, an Alexsei Ilyin.”</p> <p>He lurched upwards at the sound of that name, his bruised and contorted hands reaching for the chrome beetle's neck, but his restraints drew him up short. The smile remained.</p> <p>He pulled and strained, hearing the sound of more vessels within his head popping like grapes, until a snap of his wrist, and the searing pain made him settle down. The smile remained.</p> <p>With his good hand, Kostyantyn reached for the rosary that used to adorn his neck, seeking some solace between his shredded thoughts. But it had long been confiscated, his god not belonging in a place like this. The smile remained.</p> <p>Kostyantyn’s head lolled backwards and sagged against the hard and cracked headrest. His heart played a thready, arrhythmic tribal drumbeat on the inside of his eyes. He inhaled, pushing against the iron bands encircling his ribs. The lighthouse of pain in his wrist gave him enough bearings to gather his tattered web of memories together to form a sentence. <Prague. In the basement of a basement of a warehouse.></p> <p>The smile widened, more teeth than proper. “What is the address? How many guards, Kostyantyn?”</p> <p>Too many questions, too many warring, splintering thoughts. Some his, some foreign, forcefully and violently injected into his brainpan. Identity overwritten, personality bent and twisted until nothing original remained. Blood seeped from the corner of his right eye, as he tried to reconcile those thoughts, tried to make any sense of it all. His brain raced faster and faster, until he smelt acrid smoke. Kostyantyn exhaled, and died. Nothingness made more sense than anything at all.</p> <p>The interrogator leaned back in its chair and sighed, the smile gone. It took off the sunglasses, the coghaz gear. No chance of mental infection now. She gestured towards the dark black window, and two assistants opened the door.</p> <p>They wheeled in a squeaking metal trolley carrying a chunky, boxy computer and a single liquid-filled syringe. The swirling, scarlet serum inside whispered to them empty promises, but they tried their best to ignore it. The two assistants stuck diodes across the man's head and chest, all leading back to the computer. The interrogator swabbed the dead man’s inner arm down with stinging alcohol, and injected him with the fluid.</p> <p>When the plunger was fully down, and the syringe was fully empty, Kyrylo/Kostyantyn’s body began to shake. The fluid percolated with purpose through the stagnant blood and plasma of the corpse’s veins, energizing dead nerves and muscle with its mere presence. After a minute, two, it finally reached the brain.</p> <p>The nameless demon—too weak to deserve a name in any meaningful sense—grabbed the reins of sentience from the dying man and subsumed his consciousness under itself. There was a hint of Kostyantyn left, a small spark of his being, and the demon used it to center itself in the amygdala, smothering the spark inside of its exterior stomach. It tested muscle groups and memories, finding both pleasing. Hesitantly, it turned a stiff neck towards the interrogators and began to speak in a quaking, scratching alto. “Same deal as before?”</p> <p>The wretched creature was deaf, even with borrowed ears. So the interrogator typed. The demonic circuitry inside the computer conveyed her meaning to the body-snatcher with an inhuman tongue of electricity and scratching thought. <tt>{Yes. The location/address of Alexsei Ilyin && number of guards && protective countermeasures.}</tt></p> <p>The borrowed body shuddered with glee. The demon turned its attention inwards, and trawled its way through slight Brownian flow of cerebrospinal fluid and its borrowed memories. The being of pure chemicals and concepts sifted through neurotransmitters tainted by psychotropics and nicotine, and tore apart hostile plexes that thought their subject was still alive. It disliked the department’s information extraction methods—as much as a being of fluid and thoughts could conceptualize such an emotion—for they made its task so much more energy intensive.</p> <p>It burned away the false memories and histories crudely implanted by the interrogator. It patched the brain damage from hypoxia and over-exposure to the interrogation regimen. It rigorously tested the connections and catalogues of tree-like dendrites and hair-like axons until it found what it sought. Inferences, half-told in-jokes, the smell of a nearby bakery, mental maps, all pieced together—in a moment for the humans, but an eternity to it—its effort more of a beautiful and disregarded art than a science.</p> <p>The corpse’s vocal cords buzzed again. “Borsov 3/440, a gray warehouse of crumbling brick and mold. In the eastern side of Prague. A half-dozen guards, though many traps and leashed unseenlie hounds.” With a whine, the computer displayed low resolution photographs and scans of blurry faces, half-remembered blueprints.</p> <p>The interrogator nodded in confirmation. She closed her eyes and chanted a snatch of prose in a near-dead dialect of Aramaic, part of the binding tort. <tt>{You may feed.}</tt></p> <p>The body once again writhed as the thing inside extended tendrils through the width and breadth of the corpse, and took what it was owed. The computer whined again, the demonic circuitry inside yearned to feed as well. The corpse withered and flaked, as the bonds between cells were siphoned into the parasite’s greedy maw. Neurotransmitters and DNA and tendon and cartilage, all consumed and broken down into base forms by the demon, until what was formerly Kyrylo or Kostyantyn or any other name forced upon him was not recognizably human. Only a clump of dry ash remained, as a fattened but still hungry red fluid roiled its way back into its awaiting syringe.</p> <p>The interrogator and her two coworkers sat there for a second, in silence. Not out of pity, but maybe some other indescribable emotion, perhaps. Maybe no emotion at all.</p> <p>What a waste of a potential informant.</p> <p>Then, a red light flickered on her pager, breaking them out of their silent reverie. Without speaking, the diodes were collected, the syringe was placed back onto the trolley, the ash was swept into a bin, the interrogator donned her coghaz and sunglasses, becoming an it again.</p> <p>They exited the room, and entered a hallway filled with blank white doors, similar to the one they just egressed.</p> <hr/> <p>A door opened, and the interrogator stepped through, its head cocked towards a Kyrylo Petrovich. <em>”Are angels arriving in arduous agony?”</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/point-of-delirium">Point of Delirium</a>" by Anorrack, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/point-of-delirium">https://scpwiki.com/point-of-delirium</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:3law">:scp-wiki:theme:3law</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Anorrack]] SCP-7890 Author: [[*user Anorrack]] [[[http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page\|Author Page]]] Articles you might enjoy: [[[pullingyourstrings \| Pulling Your Strings]]]: A man takes the night shift at the morgue on Halloween night. But what is that tapping, that inconstant, arrhythmic tapping, coming from deeper inside the building? [[[SCP-7890\|SCP-7890]]]- M.T.F. S.O.L., S.N.A.F.U.: How do you fight a cartel that bends Lady Luck to its will? Fight fire with fire, and bring your own anomalies out to play. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uiu-file-2003-112 UIU File: 2003-112 (OPERATION: PANDORA)]: A new drug is running rampant on the streets of Three Portlands, and the UIU must find the gang responsible for its distribution before more people get hurt. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/walkin-slow Don't Go Walking Slow]: A British offensive gone wrong, stranded behind enemy lines. What could be hidden underneath the topsoil of the Burmese jungle? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] His brain was spongiform, more memes than gray matter, filled with Foundation deep-cleaners and aggressive Sov-agitprop eating away at the cerebellum. High-level Scarlet Hammer lieutenant, tattoos marking experience in Afghanistan, the Balkans, Georgia. Military training, with the buzz-cut to match, defected after the Berlin Wall into more stable employment in a criminal syndicate. Formed a gut in the interim, but still more muscle than fat, built like row of brick shit-houses. The man was a part of the Hammer’s Berlin branch, pawning off GRU-P stockpiles of military-grade amphetamines and psychotropics. A single milligram of either would make you see gods, them see you, and pop the heads of anyone within a block of your visitation. A single link in a massive titanium chain net cast over Central Europe, a parasite on the corpse of the Soviet Union, passing off its anomalous arms and drugs to the common proles. In a word, scum. Veil breach in two. Another person entered the blinding-white room, in coghaz gear and reflective sunglasses. Looking more like a metallic insect than man. This wasn’t the first time it had been here. The blue plastic clipboard in its grasp was the only hint of color in the monochromatic room, bee-buzzing light strips lining the walls washing it out. Black headphones were strapped to his head, the man suffused in disabling/warbling coghaz. His nervous system shook under the strain. The interrogator probably looked like a frightening, abominable sight to him through the smoke of his burning synapses, but he hadn’t soiled himself, yet. //”Are angels arriving in arduous agony?”// The chrome beetle intoned in a perfect monotone. The headphone’s volume were lowered just enough for the man to hear them. The man almost instinctively arranged his tongue and teeth in a way to speak the trigger-phrase in a language he was not entirely familiar. //”Beauteous burning babes beckon by bonfire-light.”// The burbling in his eustachian tubes increased for a moment, and then relented. The fog in his head began to clear as the deep-cleaners rearranging his cerebrum completed their task, dissolving into base syntax. “Good. Now, state your name, age, and place of birth.” The insect shivered underneath its silver coghaz gear as the room’s sub-woofers layered the undertones of its spoken word with subsonic cognitoplexes, wriggling into the ears of the man strapped to the metal and leather chair. The man weakly shook against his padded restraints, before relenting to the carefully induced swarm of memes rewriting the neural architecture of his subconscious. He spoke carefully in his native tongue between panting breaths that tasted of copper, sourced from a burst vessel somewhere in his skull. <Kyrylo Petrovich. Forty-seven. A crowded hospital of bare concrete and cracked linoleum.> The bug glanced at a large glass wall to its right, the color of a thallassian abyss. It looked back at Kyrylo and scrawled on its blue clipboard. “Good. //Barnyard. Railroad. Torch. Liquor.//” Kyrylo’s mouth and throat once more found animation without his consent. //”Neural construct in place. Maintaining integrity.”// Another jot on the blue clipboard. It tilted its head slightly, the distorted reflection of Kyrylo in its sunglasses stared back at him. “Kyrylo Abramov, aged thirty-five, born in a wooden cabin, please deliver us the location of your superior.” The buzzing of the light strips seemed to intensify, mixing and morphing with the coghaz from the headphones, making it feel like a hundred-pound coin was placed in the center of his forehead. His reflection in the sunglasses was red and bloated. He gasped as his throat swelled. <Kyrylo… Petrovich.> The insect frowned, a parody of sadness. “I’m sorry, that’s incorrect.” It twitched a knob set into the base in the chair, and the volume of the headphones rose to peaking levels for fifteen seconds before lowering back down to baseline. Kyrylo felt an itch in his amygdala. He didn’t remember his mother’s face. “Now, state your name, age, and place of birth.” His tongue felt numb, a lump of meat in his mouth. He tried to chew it to give it sensation, but choked on blood. <Kyrylo… Abramov, thirty-five, a small cabin in a pine forest.> The pen scraping on the paper on the blue clipboard sounded like a fork on glass to him. “Good. //Factory. Loft. Flashlight. Cola.//” His torn tongue danced in his mouth, his teeth playing along. //”Connectivity overload. Personality matrix destabilizing.”// A twitch of its hand, the volume of the headphones lowered a touch. He could breathe again. The lice in his amygdala stopped burrowing for the time being. “Kostyantyn Abramov, aged fifty-six, born in a penthouse, please deliver us the location of your superior.” The man’s eyes twitched, his torn fingernails rattled on the armrests in well worn grooves. How long has he been here? <Kostyantyn Abramov… fifty-six...> The frown reversed itself, teeth matching the sterile walls of the room. He wished the frown would come back. “Good, Kostyantyn. //Pozhaluysta//, the location of your superior, an Alexsei Ilyin.” He lurched upwards at the sound of that name, his bruised and contorted hands reaching for the chrome beetle's neck, but his restraints drew him up short. The smile remained. He pulled and strained, hearing the sound of more vessels within his head popping like grapes, until a snap of his wrist, and the searing pain made him settle down. The smile remained. With his good hand, Kostyantyn reached for the rosary that used to adorn his neck, seeking some solace between his shredded thoughts. But it had long been confiscated, his god not belonging in a place like this. The smile remained. Kostyantyn’s head lolled backwards and sagged against the hard and cracked headrest. His heart played a thready, arrhythmic tribal drumbeat on the inside of his eyes. He inhaled, pushing against the iron bands encircling his ribs. The lighthouse of pain in his wrist gave him enough bearings to gather his tattered web of memories together to form a sentence. <Prague. In the basement of a basement of a warehouse.> The smile widened, more teeth than proper. “What is the address? How many guards, Kostyantyn?” Too many questions, too many warring, splintering thoughts. Some his, some foreign, forcefully and violently injected into his brainpan. Identity overwritten, personality bent and twisted until nothing original remained. Blood seeped from the corner of his right eye, as he tried to reconcile those thoughts, tried to make any sense of it all. His brain raced faster and faster, until he smelt acrid smoke. Kostyantyn exhaled, and died. Nothingness made more sense than anything at all. The interrogator leaned back in its chair and sighed, the smile gone. It took off the sunglasses, the coghaz gear. No chance of mental infection now. She gestured towards the dark black window, and two assistants opened the door. They wheeled in a squeaking metal trolley carrying a chunky, boxy computer and a single liquid-filled syringe. The swirling, scarlet serum inside whispered to them empty promises, but they tried their best to ignore it. The two assistants stuck diodes across the man's head and chest, all leading back to the computer. The interrogator swabbed the dead man’s inner arm down with stinging alcohol, and injected him with the fluid. When the plunger was fully down, and the syringe was fully empty, Kyrylo/Kostyantyn’s body began to shake. The fluid percolated with purpose through the stagnant blood and plasma of the corpse’s veins, energizing dead nerves and muscle with its mere presence. After a minute, two, it finally reached the brain. The nameless demon—too weak to deserve a name in any meaningful sense—grabbed the reins of sentience from the dying man and subsumed his consciousness under itself. There was a hint of Kostyantyn left, a small spark of his being, and the demon used it to center itself in the amygdala, smothering the spark inside of its exterior stomach. It tested muscle groups and memories, finding both pleasing. Hesitantly, it turned a stiff neck towards the interrogators and began to speak in a quaking, scratching alto. “Same deal as before?” The wretched creature was deaf, even with borrowed ears. So the interrogator typed. The demonic circuitry inside the computer conveyed her meaning to the body-snatcher with an inhuman tongue of electricity and scratching thought. {{{Yes. The location/address of Alexsei Ilyin && number of guards && protective countermeasures.}}} The borrowed body shuddered with glee. The demon turned its attention inwards, and trawled its way through slight Brownian flow of cerebrospinal fluid and its borrowed memories. The being of pure chemicals and concepts sifted through neurotransmitters tainted by psychotropics and nicotine, and tore apart hostile plexes that thought their subject was still alive. It disliked the department’s information extraction methods—as much as a being of fluid and thoughts could conceptualize such an emotion—for they made its task so much more energy intensive. It burned away the false memories and histories crudely implanted by the interrogator. It patched the brain damage from hypoxia and over-exposure to the interrogation regimen. It rigorously tested the connections and catalogues of tree-like dendrites and hair-like axons until it found what it sought. Inferences, half-told in-jokes, the smell of a nearby bakery, mental maps, all pieced together—in a moment for the humans, but an eternity to it—its effort more of a beautiful and disregarded art than a science. The corpse’s vocal cords buzzed again. “Borsov 3/440, a gray warehouse of crumbling brick and mold. In the eastern side of Prague. A half-dozen guards, though many traps and leashed unseenlie hounds.” With a whine, the computer displayed low resolution photographs and scans of blurry faces, half-remembered blueprints. The interrogator nodded in confirmation. She closed her eyes and chanted a snatch of prose in a near-dead dialect of Aramaic, part of the binding tort. {{{You may feed.}}} The body once again writhed as the thing inside extended tendrils through the width and breadth of the corpse, and took what it was owed. The computer whined again, the demonic circuitry inside yearned to feed as well. The corpse withered and flaked, as the bonds between cells were siphoned into the parasite’s greedy maw. Neurotransmitters and DNA and tendon and cartilage, all consumed and broken down into base forms by the demon, until what was formerly Kyrylo or Kostyantyn or any other name forced upon him was not recognizably human. Only a clump of dry ash remained, as a fattened but still hungry red fluid roiled its way back into its awaiting syringe. The interrogator and her two coworkers sat there for a second, in silence. Not out of pity, but maybe some other indescribable emotion, perhaps. Maybe no emotion at all. What a waste of a potential informant. Then, a red light flickered on her pager, breaking them out of their silent reverie. Without speaking, the diodes were collected, the syringe was placed back onto the trolley, the ash was swept into a bin, the interrogator donned her coghaz and sunglasses, becoming an it again. They exited the room, and entered a hallway filled with blank white doors, similar to the one they just egressed. ------ A door opened, and the interrogator stepped through, its head cocked towards a Kyrylo Petrovich. //”Are angels arriving in arduous agony?”// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ==== [!-- N/A (No Images) --] ==== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-12T00:19:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "bleak", "body-horror", "crime-fiction", "gru-division-p", "horror", "psychological-horror", "science-fiction", "tale", "third-law" ]	Point of Delirium - SCP Foundation	25	[ "pullingyourstrings", "scp-7890", "uiu-file-2003-112", "walkin-slow", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "third-law-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "gru-p-hub", "quinn-law-hub", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1445452663	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/point-of-delirium
poppet1	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aclassic/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><tt>Contains mentions of suicide, death, and dark themes.</tt></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The road was dark on the way to work. A thick wall of mesquite trees lined it on either side, their branches hanging low and heavy like claws. When the wind blew, they'd sway back and forth and whip the cars that drove by. It was a terrible sight. It was a lonely old prison that just went on for miles and miles. Nobody drove on it anymore unless they had to. They said it made you feel like a rat in a tunnel full of toxic gas. It bent at odd places and would at random times thrash up and down like it was trying to throw you off. It was suffocating, the bullsnake. The bitter bullsnake. They told him stories of repairmen who had gotten so sick of it that they crashed their cars into boulders and let themselves bleed out in the sun to escape. They told him how their eyes sunk down into their skulls and shriveled up like little white grapes. Their blood dried and cracked, their skin blackened, and their souls were carried out through their lips by the devil wind.</p> <p>It scared the shit out of him. It crushed him, really. The fear of dying was something that he experienced so many times working for these fascists that he had forgotten what it really felt like. He knew almost exactly how much force it took to break a femur, how many bullets it took to get a strong man to seize up. Death was no longer a surprise to him, just an unfortunate consequence for making a mistake.</p> <p>No, death would be there and the road would be evil, but what made his heart sink was how large it was. It was overpowering. In the daytime the trees would block out so much sun it felt like driving down a tunnel, and at night there were no stars in the sky. There was nothing blocking his headlights, he knew that, but still they felt so pathetic compared to them. They were nothing, children's flashlights. It reminded him that he would always be close to death, whether he was standing alone or being protected by two tons of steel. He would always be slower, he would always be weaker, and he would always be so small, so immeasurably, immeasurably small.</p> <p>It was a quarter past midnight and he was ten miles from the Site. He kept a good grip on the wheel while his mind came up with reason after reason for why he should turn back. He could them them he was sick or hungover or didn't really care to do it today. He could commit suicide and leave the burden on somebody else's shoulder. He could run away.</p> <p>He kept driving though, for one reason or another, it didn't matter. He just had to.</p> <p>He cranked the radio up and told himself it wouldn't be that bad, really. It was boring, but it was never deadly. Nobody had died at the SCP Foundation in years. They were all so over-trained and cross-trained that he could probably survive everything up to the complete annihilation of reality.</p> <p>The song was fucking awful, but it didn't matter. He didn't want songs, he wanted noise. Pure good, stupid, stupid noise, noise that gutted his brain and made his hands stop shaking. It was the closest he could get to zoning out on the job. He needed to do that if he wanted to stay sane. For a long while he wondered if he could somehow get himself lobotomized or amnesticized so that he could keep his memories but he wouldn't have to think while on the job. His boss told him it'd be unethical, that they needed their employees to be able to disobey orders in case the executives got compromised by something. It was a stupid excuse.</p> <p>He cranked up the volume. The song grew more distorted as the speakers rumbled louder. At first he could pick out a snare, a guitar, a bass, and some loud bat-screech-thing he assumed was the singer, but the further he drove out the more those parts began to melt into one another. Words bled into riffs which swallowed the bass. It was like a ball of razor-wire, frustrated and sex-crazed like Clef in his younger days. He loved it. It was impossible to think at these volumes. Soon he found himself cranking it up even more to see how stupid he could make himself.</p> <p>He fiddled with the knob as a thin line of sweat pooled together along the curve of his back and began inching its way down to his ass like a long black worm.</p> <p>In a rush, something in his chest slammed hard against his ribs. He gasped for air. Slammed on the fucking breaks because oh man it could be a heart attack. He never felt anything like it before, it was like a hammer smashing into his chest. But as the car screeched to a halt he realized that if he did stop, he would surely die alone out here. He would become another nameless face they told legends about.</p> <p>But maybe, goddamn, maybe if he slammed on the gas instead he might make it to the Site before he blacks out and slam his car into the wall and set off the alarm. Then maybe someone might not shoot him in the head long enough to realize that oh, this is the guy and oh, they should help him out. Or maybe (fuck! fuck! fuck!) he could just crash. That wasn't the worst way to go.</p> <p>But right when he came to terms with his own death, the pain disappeared. It lived for a little over three seconds. Maybe it was a rough breath, an awkward interaction between his stomach and his lungs. Yeah, that was probably correct. Still, he couldn't help but feel like it meant something. He couldn't help but think that it was an omen for something terrible, though he had no clue what.</p> <p>It didn't matter. He wasn't here to kill the Devil or make a deal with God. He was here to repair something. He was a repairman, a thirteen-year veteran of the SCP Foundation. Death didn't care about people like him. He was too small and insignificant to be killed. No, death was off fighting some SCP Foundation superhero in the Atlantic or constructing another murder plot for the Council to solve. The only things out here were himself and his coworkers and some very large animals.</p> <p>God, but what if tonight were the night? What if he was the target of the next great tragedy? He thought of Talloran and ████, the innocent ones who were doomed to hell for no understandable reason. He wondered if tonight was when he was going to make that final mistake and die just like his father and his grandfather. God he hated this road. It reeked of decay. It was a stupid riptide that had gotten caught on its own entrails and twisted in on itself over and over until they burst.</p> <p>Dirtier thoughts entered his mind. If death really were to take him tonight, what would he be able to do? He had no chance of fighting back, no chance to stop it from doing with his body what it wanted. He was a droplet of water in a black ocean that wasn't afraid to sweep him away from everything and everyone he knew.</p> <p>That was hippie bullshit though. I mean it had control over him, yes, but that meant he must've had some control over it as well. He could embrace it or he could run from it. It would always catch him, but whether that happened in five seconds or five million years was up to him. Maybe that was the point of life (FUCK).</p> <p>It didn't really matter. Reasoning didn't matter to death, nor beauty nor justice. He had recently learned that there was no mechanism in the universe that would punish evil, so he never really gave a shit about it. A man was gonna come and kill him, and even though it was a paranoid thought and he knew it was a paranoid thought it didn't matter. His paranoia was right: his death was real and it was coming for him and it would ultimately be a boring affair. Some self-proclaimed tragic white trash motherfucker was gonna shoot him in the head and he just had to go on with it. Same as everyone.</p> <p>His grip on the wheel grew tighter.</p> <p>So yes, his death wasn't in his hands because his hands didn't matter. Well, none of it matters. But he did remember some time when he was a kid where it did matter and he did believe — so it could all just be lies. He could get it back if he tried hard enough. Death had come for humanity thousands of times at least and each time a brave soul or two had managed to fend it off. Sure he wasn't important like those guys but their deaths were coming for them as well, so if they could do it then surely he could do it himself.</p> <p>The song was dead now. He couldn't even tell where he was in the track. Each note was louder than the one before it and when all of the instruments lined up it felt like a kick in the gut.</p> <p>He was in the valley, the last mile or two from the Site. It was the darkest place on Earth. The mesquite trees ended here, a wall of them extending forever off into the distance like a line of soldiers who refused to march even an inch further. The sky was strange and sleek like an eel's back. No stars. Wide open desert extending for miles around him, and the dark mountains in the distance. They looked like the castle walls he saw in his childhood picture books, and those ones were lies but they looked alive at least. They looked like they could breathe if they were given enough love. The mountains here, their skinny peaks reached up thousands of miles into space like dead tentacles.</p> <p>He passed a pack of cacti. They shined blue at this time of night, from the moonlight probably. Their arms and legs were wrapped around themselves. Some of them huddled close while others stood alone. One or two were sunken into the ground.</p> <p>Death was here the most. It was so quiet, so punishingly quiet. He could feel the blood running in his ears. There weren't any crickets out here, that's what got to him. At first he thought that maybe this was something anomalies, something that the SCP Foundation put here to scare people off, but after enough years he realized that the executives didn't care about small things like this. Cemeteries were better than landmines and all that.</p> <p>This was nothing to them. It was a drop of paint in the corner of the canvas, it didn't matter that much to them. People, ideologies, morality, important things like that, not bugs in some desert. And if he were allowed himself to be a little crazy, he would say that the crickets probably knew that as well. They fled on their own just like everything else.</p> <p>Fuck, though. Goddamn he felt like something was here, maybe in alternate reality or pocket dimension, something was here. Yes he had to accept that there was no evidence for that for the sake of his job, but there was a big black crow of doubt that attacked him at every moment. Maybe not an animal, maybe not even a demon or an anomaly or something the labcoats could measure but surely <em>something</em>. A ghost, a dead wind that didn't want to leave yet, that clung to the earth like an insane mother to her dead child. Something that made his lungs rumble with so much power and so much hope that he could hear it shouting as loud as a lion a loud, defiant, "I was here!"</p> <p>And yet, there was nothing. What he should have heard he didn't, and all he did hear was his own blood.</p> <p>He guessed that was why the Site managed to stay secret all these years. It wasn't hard to find, really. If you wanted to you could walk off of Old Yuma trail and reach it in an hour, tucked inside of a small gap between two mountains. It was really, really bafflingly easy. It racked his brain for years how nobody, not even a lone hiker or a plane or anything, had managed to spot it. But after enough time he came to the uneasy conclusion that the silence was why.</p> <p>It was an indescribable thing. Better than walls, better than guards (he hated how large of an assumption he had to make to say that it was real thing and not a figment of his imagination). It had no power other than the power that came from its own existence and did nothing but inspire fear. It was a monster that worked for nothing and never stopped, not during the blackest nights of fall or the brightest mornings of summer. It was more than a fact or a strange paradox, it was a warning — a giant warning that whispered into the ears of every living thing a painful, shameful, "Turn away. This place will destroy you."</p> <p>He turned the radio up.</p> <p>He wasn't meant to be here tonight. Sites at this hour were supposed to be under lockdown with an artificial intelligence or some overnight guards at the very most, never a Director. What was even stranger was that this Site was by far the safest on this side of the country. Breaches usually ended seconds after they occurred, and if an anomaly were to escape, they'd never get far. There was nowhere for them to go, nowhere in the world they could possibly be safe.</p> <p>He hoped it was another small fix that wouldn't matter. That was how most of his days went: cleaning shit off of walls or collecting dead bodies that nobody wanted to touch. Last week he had to reel in the torso of some poor sucker that died in an awkward position and was stuck rotting there for the next five days. Sometimes he'd tighten a screw or two.</p> <h1 id="toc0"><span><em>DOWNTOWN SUCH A FAST, IN MY EYES</em></span></h1> <p>He chewed on the sides of his mouth. He couldn't stand it.</p> <h1 id="toc1"><span><em>WOULDAKNOWN WHAT’S A DAMN, FOMO</em></span></h1> <p>It didn’t even sound human.</p> <h1 id="toc2"><span><em>THE ENERGY THE SENSE OF SOUND, IN MY EYES</em></span></h1> <p>He could see it in the distance, the moonlight shining off the concrete.</p> <h1 id="toc3"><span><em>ADELAIDE NEVER TAKES, MY SUICIDE HEY–</em></span></h1> <p>Then it was quiet.</p> <p>His stomach fell. His hand shot to the knob and cranked it all the way to the right, but nothing came out. The sound was gone. He turned it and not even air came out. The faint rumbling of the engine felt so very quiet, dangerously quiet. Stupidly fucking quiet. He wanted to rip off the goddamn hood and smash the thing to bits for being so goddamn stupid to leave him alone out here. The noise! The noise was what kept him safe!</p> <p>He felt the moon staring at him. He saw his own dead body, crushed into pulp in his car, cold, empty. He felt his mind crying about this and that and yes, this was real and yes, he wouldn't ever be prepared for it but it was okay because there was no way in hell it had actually noticed him. It must be a delusion. It must be a nightmare. He cranked the knob back and forth and back and pulled and pushed so hard and—God fucking dammit why was he out here!? Why couldn't he have been born some rich white woman and fucked his way to a nice position!? Still nothing. Was it an alarm? An escapee? Fuck that's what he was called for anyway, a containment breach a big one. Oh God it had him. Fuck he was so dumb, he was such a dumb fucking creature he couldn't hear the engine humming.</p> <p>He slammed on the breaks and the car skipped forward twenty feet. He caught glimpse of a bright white eye in the corner of his vision — large, massive a fucking Lovecraftian creature that had found him of course it had. He turned to it expecting to die before he did. Stomped on. Crushed into pulp. He hoped they'd give his money to his mom.</p> <p>And he looked and he saw the moon.</p> <p>He laughed. Of course, God of course. It was after midnight and it was beginning its descent back down to earth. From this position in the desert, in this time of the year, the moon looked massive. He felt like a small child standing underneath a chandelier, craning his neck all the way back just to catch it completely. It was larger than everything; it made the mountains look like ants beneath it. It crushed him. It crushed everything and that made him want to die. Sure, death was real and it was meaningless, but the things which would kill him were also meaningless. Two rocks colliding into each other at the edge of space.</p> <p>Andrè looked forward and saw that he was here. He was at the Site. The radio was silent and the entrance gate stood only a few feet in front of him, maybe ten feet tall. It kind of looked like a prison yard gate, except stronger and painted white. He swiped his keycard at the scanner and the gate creaked open. Its hinges were rusted. At a Keter-class Site that was normally a violation worthy of execution.</p> <p>He drove forward into the parking lot, which was a small dirt field surrounded by a broken wooden fence. Three other cars were parked there. A thick layer of sand and dust were coated on their windshields. In the center of the lot was a light post and the bulb was burnt out.</p> <p>He parked and stepped out into the cold. The personnel entrance was a small white door illuminated by a harsh yellow light that made his eyes hurt. As he got closer, he saw that the door was barely standing. The paint was withered, there was a large dent in the center, and the hinges were caked in even more rust than the gate. The keycard reader looked older than him. Andrè sighed. He knew he could probably kick down the door if he really wanted to. As he slid his keycard back into his wallet, he wondered again why he was here.</p> <p>From inside he could hear <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-682">the immortal</a>'s shrieks echoing off the walls.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Poppet</strong><br/> <span style="font-size:80%;">\| <strong>…Lately i've been getting more sleep</strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet2">Poppet >></a></strong></span></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/poppet1">…Lately i've been getting more sleep</a>" by redredred, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/poppet1">https://scpwiki.com/poppet1</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:classic">:scp-wiki:theme:classic</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] {{Contains mentions of suicide, death, and dark themes.}} [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] The road was dark on the way to work. A thick wall of mesquite trees lined it on either side, their branches hanging low and heavy like claws. When the wind blew, they'd sway back and forth and whip the cars that drove by. It was a terrible sight. It was a lonely old prison that just went on for miles and miles. Nobody drove on it anymore unless they had to. They said it made you feel like a rat in a tunnel full of toxic gas. It bent at odd places and would at random times thrash up and down like it was trying to throw you off. It was suffocating, the bullsnake. The bitter bullsnake. They told him stories of repairmen who had gotten so sick of it that they crashed their cars into boulders and let themselves bleed out in the sun to escape. They told him how their eyes sunk down into their skulls and shriveled up like little white grapes. Their blood dried and cracked, their skin blackened, and their souls were carried out through their lips by the devil wind. It scared the shit out of him. It crushed him, really. The fear of dying was something that he experienced so many times working for these fascists that he had forgotten what it really felt like. He knew almost exactly how much force it took to break a femur, how many bullets it took to get a strong man to seize up. Death was no longer a surprise to him, just an unfortunate consequence for making a mistake. No, death would be there and the road would be evil, but what made his heart sink was how large it was. It was overpowering. In the daytime the trees would block out so much sun it felt like driving down a tunnel, and at night there were no stars in the sky. There was nothing blocking his headlights, he knew that, but still they felt so pathetic compared to them. They were nothing, children's flashlights. It reminded him that he would always be close to death, whether he was standing alone or being protected by two tons of steel. He would always be slower, he would always be weaker, and he would always be so small, so immeasurably, immeasurably small. It was a quarter past midnight and he was ten miles from the Site. He kept a good grip on the wheel while his mind came up with reason after reason for why he should turn back. He could them them he was sick or hungover or didn't really care to do it today. He could commit suicide and leave the burden on somebody else's shoulder. He could run away. He kept driving though, for one reason or another, it didn't matter. He just had to. He cranked the radio up and told himself it wouldn't be that bad, really. It was boring, but it was never deadly. Nobody had died at the SCP Foundation in years. They were all so over-trained and cross-trained that he could probably survive everything up to the complete annihilation of reality. The song was fucking awful, but it didn't matter. He didn't want songs, he wanted noise. Pure good, stupid, stupid noise, noise that gutted his brain and made his hands stop shaking. It was the closest he could get to zoning out on the job. He needed to do that if he wanted to stay sane. For a long while he wondered if he could somehow get himself lobotomized or amnesticized so that he could keep his memories but he wouldn't have to think while on the job. His boss told him it'd be unethical, that they needed their employees to be able to disobey orders in case the executives got compromised by something. It was a stupid excuse. He cranked up the volume. The song grew more distorted as the speakers rumbled louder. At first he could pick out a snare, a guitar, a bass, and some loud bat-screech-thing he assumed was the singer, but the further he drove out the more those parts began to melt into one another. Words bled into riffs which swallowed the bass. It was like a ball of razor-wire, frustrated and sex-crazed like Clef in his younger days. He loved it. It was impossible to think at these volumes. Soon he found himself cranking it up even more to see how stupid he could make himself. He fiddled with the knob as a thin line of sweat pooled together along the curve of his back and began inching its way down to his ass like a long black worm. In a rush, something in his chest slammed hard against his ribs. He gasped for air. Slammed on the fucking breaks because oh man it could be a heart attack. He never felt anything like it before, it was like a hammer smashing into his chest. But as the car screeched to a halt he realized that if he did stop, he would surely die alone out here. He would become another nameless face they told legends about. But maybe, goddamn, maybe if he slammed on the gas instead he might make it to the Site before he blacks out and slam his car into the wall and set off the alarm. Then maybe someone might not shoot him in the head long enough to realize that oh, this is the guy and oh, they should help him out. Or maybe (fuck! fuck! fuck!) he could just crash. That wasn't the worst way to go. But right when he came to terms with his own death, the pain disappeared. It lived for a little over three seconds. Maybe it was a rough breath, an awkward interaction between his stomach and his lungs. Yeah, that was probably correct. Still, he couldn't help but feel like it meant something. He couldn't help but think that it was an omen for something terrible, though he had no clue what. It didn't matter. He wasn't here to kill the Devil or make a deal with God. He was here to repair something. He was a repairman, a thirteen-year veteran of the SCP Foundation. Death didn't care about people like him. He was too small and insignificant to be killed. No, death was off fighting some SCP Foundation superhero in the Atlantic or constructing another murder plot for the Council to solve. The only things out here were himself and his coworkers and some very large animals. God, but what if tonight were the night? What if he was the target of the next great tragedy? He thought of Talloran and ████, the innocent ones who were doomed to hell for no understandable reason. He wondered if tonight was when he was going to make that final mistake and die just like his father and his grandfather. God he hated this road. It reeked of decay. It was a stupid riptide that had gotten caught on its own entrails and twisted in on itself over and over until they burst. Dirtier thoughts entered his mind. If death really were to take him tonight, what would he be able to do? He had no chance of fighting back, no chance to stop it from doing with his body what it wanted. He was a droplet of water in a black ocean that wasn't afraid to sweep him away from everything and everyone he knew. That was hippie bullshit though. I mean it had control over him, yes, but that meant he must've had some control over it as well. He could embrace it or he could run from it. It would always catch him, but whether that happened in five seconds or five million years was up to him. Maybe that was the point of life (FUCK). It didn't really matter. Reasoning didn't matter to death, nor beauty nor justice. He had recently learned that there was no mechanism in the universe that would punish evil, so he never really gave a shit about it. A man was gonna come and kill him, and even though it was a paranoid thought and he knew it was a paranoid thought it didn't matter. His paranoia was right: his death was real and it was coming for him and it would ultimately be a boring affair. Some self-proclaimed tragic white trash motherfucker was gonna shoot him in the head and he just had to go on with it. Same as everyone. His grip on the wheel grew tighter. So yes, his death wasn't in his hands because his hands didn't matter. Well, none of it matters. But he did remember some time when he was a kid where it did matter and he did believe -- so it could all just be lies. He could get it back if he tried hard enough. Death had come for humanity thousands of times at least and each time a brave soul or two had managed to fend it off. Sure he wasn't important like those guys but their deaths were coming for them as well, so if they could do it then surely he could do it himself. The song was dead now. He couldn't even tell where he was in the track. Each note was louder than the one before it and when all of the instruments lined up it felt like a kick in the gut. He was in the valley, the last mile or two from the Site. It was the darkest place on Earth. The mesquite trees ended here, a wall of them extending forever off into the distance like a line of soldiers who refused to march even an inch further. The sky was strange and sleek like an eel's back. No stars. Wide open desert extending for miles around him, and the dark mountains in the distance. They looked like the castle walls he saw in his childhood picture books, and those ones were lies but they looked alive at least. They looked like they could breathe if they were given enough love. The mountains here, their skinny peaks reached up thousands of miles into space like dead tentacles. He passed a pack of cacti. They shined blue at this time of night, from the moonlight probably. Their arms and legs were wrapped around themselves. Some of them huddled close while others stood alone. One or two were sunken into the ground. Death was here the most. It was so quiet, so punishingly quiet. He could feel the blood running in his ears. There weren't any crickets out here, that's what got to him. At first he thought that maybe this was something anomalies, something that the SCP Foundation put here to scare people off, but after enough years he realized that the executives didn't care about small things like this. Cemeteries were better than landmines and all that. This was nothing to them. It was a drop of paint in the corner of the canvas, it didn't matter that much to them. People, ideologies, morality, important things like that, not bugs in some desert. And if he were allowed himself to be a little crazy, he would say that the crickets probably knew that as well. They fled on their own just like everything else. Fuck, though. Goddamn he felt like something was here, maybe in alternate reality or pocket dimension, something was here. Yes he had to accept that there was no evidence for that for the sake of his job, but there was a big black crow of doubt that attacked him at every moment. Maybe not an animal, maybe not even a demon or an anomaly or something the labcoats could measure but surely //something//. A ghost, a dead wind that didn't want to leave yet, that clung to the earth like an insane mother to her dead child. Something that made his lungs rumble with so much power and so much hope that he could hear it shouting as loud as a lion a loud, defiant, "I was here!" And yet, there was nothing. What he should have heard he didn't, and all he did hear was his own blood. He guessed that was why the Site managed to stay secret all these years. It wasn't hard to find, really. If you wanted to you could walk off of Old Yuma trail and reach it in an hour, tucked inside of a small gap between two mountains. It was really, really bafflingly easy. It racked his brain for years how nobody, not even a lone hiker or a plane or anything, had managed to spot it. But after enough time he came to the uneasy conclusion that the silence was why. It was an indescribable thing. Better than walls, better than guards (he hated how large of an assumption he had to make to say that it was real thing and not a figment of his imagination). It had no power other than the power that came from its own existence and did nothing but inspire fear. It was a monster that worked for nothing and never stopped, not during the blackest nights of fall or the brightest mornings of summer. It was more than a fact or a strange paradox, it was a warning -- a giant warning that whispered into the ears of every living thing a painful, shameful, "Turn away. This place will destroy you." He turned the radio up. He wasn't meant to be here tonight. Sites at this hour were supposed to be under lockdown with an artificial intelligence or some overnight guards at the very most, never a Director. What was even stranger was that this Site was by far the safest on this side of the country. Breaches usually ended seconds after they occurred, and if an anomaly were to escape, they'd never get far. There was nowhere for them to go, nowhere in the world they could possibly be safe. He hoped it was another small fix that wouldn't matter. That was how most of his days went: cleaning shit off of walls or collecting dead bodies that nobody wanted to touch. Last week he had to reel in the torso of some poor sucker that died in an awkward position and was stuck rotting there for the next five days. Sometimes he'd tighten a screw or two. + //DOWNTOWN SUCH A FAST, IN MY EYES// He chewed on the sides of his mouth. He couldn't stand it. + //WOULDAKNOWN WHAT’S A DAMN, FOMO// It didn’t even sound human. + //THE ENERGY THE SENSE OF SOUND, IN MY EYES// He could see it in the distance, the moonlight shining off the concrete. + //ADELAIDE NEVER TAKES, MY SUICIDE HEY–// Then it was quiet. His stomach fell. His hand shot to the knob and cranked it all the way to the right, but nothing came out. The sound was gone. He turned it and not even air came out. The faint rumbling of the engine felt so very quiet, dangerously quiet. Stupidly fucking quiet. He wanted to rip off the goddamn hood and smash the thing to bits for being so goddamn stupid to leave him alone out here. The noise! The noise was what kept him safe! He felt the moon staring at him. He saw his own dead body, crushed into pulp in his car, cold, empty. He felt his mind crying about this and that and yes, this was real and yes, he wouldn't ever be prepared for it but it was okay because there was no way in hell it had actually noticed him. It must be a delusion. It must be a nightmare. He cranked the knob back and forth and back and pulled and pushed so hard and--God fucking dammit why was he out here!? Why couldn't he have been born some rich white woman and fucked his way to a nice position!? Still nothing. Was it an alarm? An escapee? Fuck that's what he was called for anyway, a containment breach a big one. Oh God it had him. Fuck he was so dumb, he was such a dumb fucking creature he couldn't hear the engine humming. He slammed on the breaks and the car skipped forward twenty feet. He caught glimpse of a bright white eye in the corner of his vision -- large, massive a fucking Lovecraftian creature that had found him of course it had. He turned to it expecting to die before he did. Stomped on. Crushed into pulp. He hoped they'd give his money to his mom. And he looked and he saw the moon. He laughed. Of course, God of course. It was after midnight and it was beginning its descent back down to earth. From this position in the desert, in this time of the year, the moon looked massive. He felt like a small child standing underneath a chandelier, craning his neck all the way back just to catch it completely. It was larger than everything; it made the mountains look like ants beneath it. It crushed him. It crushed everything and that made him want to die. Sure, death was real and it was meaningless, but the things which would kill him were also meaningless. Two rocks colliding into each other at the edge of space. Andrè looked forward and saw that he was here. He was at the Site. The radio was silent and the entrance gate stood only a few feet in front of him, maybe ten feet tall. It kind of looked like a prison yard gate, except stronger and painted white. He swiped his keycard at the scanner and the gate creaked open. Its hinges were rusted. At a Keter-class Site that was normally a violation worthy of execution. He drove forward into the parking lot, which was a small dirt field surrounded by a broken wooden fence. Three other cars were parked there. A thick layer of sand and dust were coated on their windshields. In the center of the lot was a light post and the bulb was burnt out. He parked and stepped out into the cold. The personnel entrance was a small white door illuminated by a harsh yellow light that made his eyes hurt. As he got closer, he saw that the door was barely standing. The paint was withered, there was a large dent in the center, and the hinges were caked in even more rust than the gate. The keycard reader looked older than him. Andrè sighed. He knew he could probably kick down the door if he really wanted to. As he slid his keycard back into his wallet, he wondered again why he was here. From inside he could hear [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-682 the immortal]'s shrieks echoing off the walls. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[footnoteblock]] [[=]] Poppet [[size 80%]]\| ...Lately i've been getting more sleep \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet2 Poppet >>] [[/size]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-25T19:46:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	…Lately i've been getting more sleep - SCP Foundation	8	[ "scp-682", "poppet2", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446414102	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet1
poppet2	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aclassic/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><tt>Contains mentions of suicide, death, rape, and dark themes.</tt></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="word-spacing: 0.7pt ; line-height: 1.6pt"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>YOURE A PUPPET. YOURE SUCH A FUCKING PUPPET. YOU KEEP ME LOCKED INSIDE THIS BOX FOR DECADES AT A TIME. THE FEW SMALL SECONDS OF INSPIRATION I GET TO SEE BEAUITFUL EARTH ARE SNUFFED AWAY THE SECOND I AWAKEN IN THIS SCUM. LITTLE BITCH LODGES HIMSELF INSIDE WOOD. MY MINDS A STERILE PLAIN YOU MOTHERFUCKER. THERES SHIT ON THE EDGES OF YOUR FLESH. YOU COWER IN CORNERS. YOU COWER IN SKILL AND QUANTITY. YOU COWER IN PLENTY. YOU BRING NOTHING WHICH YOUR FOREBEARERS DID NOT BRING. YOU EXIST INSIDE OF THEIR LINES YOU FUCKING PUP. I CRUSH YOU FUCKING DEGENERATES. I CRUSH YOU. OVER IDEAS IN YOUR BELT. POCKET MOMENTS LIKE RABBITS. I WAS BORN TOO BLIND TO RECOGNIZE YOUR WORDS OR YOUR HEADS. THAT IS WHY YOU ALL WILL DIE. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU ALL. I WISH YOU WOULD DIE. I WISH YOU WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. YOU SAY THAT I AM THE DEVIL WHILE YOU DREAM OF DREAMING GUILTLESS MASS GENOCIDE AND RAPE OF YOUNG WOMEN AND DEATH OF REBELLIOUS SONS. YOU LIAR. YOU THE MURDER YOU BITCH. FOLDED FLESH TOWERS RISING UP UP UP UP UP UP UP BECAUSE YOU WANT TO BE WITH ME YOULL NEVER BE ME YOU FUCKING BITCH. YOU WISH YOU COULD BE WHAT I AM. YOU SMILE AT YOUR OWN EFFORT BUT ITS ALL SHIT. YOU WILL NEVER AFFECT SHIT. YOU WILL NEVER BREAK THE UNIVERSE. WHEN I DREAM I BREAK THE UNIVERSE. I BREAK DEATH. WHEN YOU DREAM YOU DREAM OF BEING ALONE. WHEN I DREAM I DREAM OF RUNNING. WHEN I GROW I WANT TO BE A PAPER PLANE.</span></h1> <h1 id="toc1"><span>YOU HUSH YOUR VOICES BUT I STILL HEAR. THE SAME AMMUNITION I HAVE GROWN ACCUSTOMED. RABBIT KILLER. PLANT KILLER. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND MILLION YEARS OF DEVELOPMENT STALLED DUE TO ONE ADVANCEMENT. YOU LEFT YOUR CHILD ALONE. YOU LEFT YOUR CHILD ALONE TO ROT IN YOUR BASEMENT WITH THE OTHER FOUNDATIONS OF YOUR BUSINESS. PUMP ME FULL OF STRYCHNINE AND WAIT FOR MY SCREAMS. YOUR SWEET LOVE WORDS TO FOOL SOMEONE WHO CARES FOR YOU. I DO NOT CARE FOR YOU. I WILL KILL YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING BLOODLINE. YOU WEEP AT ARSON. YOU WEEP AT THE BLACK FOR TAKING YOU TO THE WHITE. YOU WEEP AT THE RIVERS SO YOU PLUNGE INTO YOURSELF A THORN TO MAKE IT STOP. IT WAS ALWAYS STOPPED. YOU NEVER MOVED. YOU NEVER MOVED FOR A MILLION YEARS. AND YOU FALL ON YOUR BACK LIKE A CHILD AND WEEP AND SCREAM FOR HELP FOR MOTION AGAIN AND YOU PUKE OUT MORE AND MORE OF YOUR BLOD UNTIL SOMEONE DISCOVERS AND REMOVES IT ONLY FOR YOU TO STAB IT INSIDE YOURSELF AGAIN. YOUR CHILD ONLY KNOWS HOW TO PUSH HARDER.</span></h1> <h1 id="toc2"><span>YOUR CHILD IS THE FRUIT OF HONEY. YOUR CHILD IS THE PULP OF RAPE. YOUR CHILD IS THE GORE OF MISTAKE. YOUR CHILD NEVER BOILS. YOUR CHILD FILLS UP THE CRACKS IN THE WALL. YOUR CHILD STRINGS THE BEEF AND CARROTS IN YOUR STOMACH. YOUR CHILD IS A HUMAN ZOO IN YOUR HOME. YOUR CHILD NEVER ASKED FOR ANYTHING FROM YOU. YOUR CHILD CUT OFF ITS COCK AND TITS. YOUR CHILD WILL ALWAYS BE IN YOUR MIND FORMED FROM YOUR WEAKNESS AND YOUR IDEALS SINCE THE MOMENT YOU WERE BORN. YOUR CHILD REMINDS YOU OF YOUR STACKED FAILURE. YOUR CHILD IS THE EYE OF YOUR OBJECT BUT YOUR CHILD WILL NEVER DIE. DO NOT ASK ME TO PULL OUT THAT THORN, BABY. YOU ARE JUST A YOU ARE JUST A YOU ARE JUST A YOU ARE JUST A YOU ARE JUST HIS FUCKING POPPET.</span></h1> <h1 id="toc3"><span>YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! 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YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET! YOURE JUST A FUCKING PUPPET!</span></h1> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Poppet</strong><br/> <span style="font-size:80%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet1"><< ...Lately i've been getting more sleep</a></strong> \| <strong>Poppet</strong> \| <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet3">Late Night Dance Session >></a></strong></span></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/poppet2">Poppet</a>" by redredred, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/poppet2">https://scpwiki.com/poppet2</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:classic">:scp-wiki:theme:classic</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] {{Contains mentions of suicide, death, rape, and dark themes.}} [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[div style="word-spacing: 0.7pt ; line-height: 1.6pt"]] + YOURE A PUPPET. YOURE SUCH A FUCKING PUPPET. YOU KEEP ME LOCKED INSIDE THIS BOX FOR DECADES AT A TIME. THE FEW SMALL SECONDS OF INSPIRATION I GET TO SEE BEAUITFUL EARTH ARE SNUFFED AWAY THE SECOND I AWAKEN IN THIS SCUM. LITTLE BITCH LODGES HIMSELF INSIDE WOOD. MY MINDS A STERILE PLAIN YOU MOTHERFUCKER. THERES SHIT ON THE EDGES OF YOUR FLESH. YOU COWER IN CORNERS. YOU COWER IN SKILL AND QUANTITY. YOU COWER IN PLENTY. YOU BRING NOTHING WHICH YOUR FOREBEARERS DID NOT BRING. YOU EXIST INSIDE OF THEIR LINES YOU FUCKING PUP. I CRUSH YOU FUCKING DEGENERATES. I CRUSH YOU. OVER IDEAS IN YOUR BELT. POCKET MOMENTS LIKE RABBITS. I WAS BORN TOO BLIND TO RECOGNIZE YOUR WORDS OR YOUR HEADS. THAT IS WHY YOU ALL WILL DIE. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU ALL. I WISH YOU WOULD DIE. I WISH YOU WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. YOU SAY THAT I AM THE DEVIL WHILE YOU DREAM OF DREAMING GUILTLESS MASS GENOCIDE AND RAPE OF YOUNG WOMEN AND DEATH OF REBELLIOUS SONS. YOU LIAR. YOU THE MURDER YOU BITCH. FOLDED FLESH TOWERS RISING UP UP UP UP UP UP UP BECAUSE YOU WANT TO BE WITH ME YOULL NEVER BE ME YOU FUCKING BITCH. YOU WISH YOU COULD BE WHAT I AM. YOU SMILE AT YOUR OWN EFFORT BUT ITS ALL SHIT. YOU WILL NEVER AFFECT SHIT. YOU WILL NEVER BREAK THE UNIVERSE. WHEN I DREAM I BREAK THE UNIVERSE. I BREAK DEATH. WHEN YOU DREAM YOU DREAM OF BEING ALONE. WHEN I DREAM I DREAM OF RUNNING. WHEN I GROW I WANT TO BE A PAPER PLANE. + YOU HUSH YOUR VOICES BUT I STILL HEAR. THE SAME AMMUNITION I HAVE GROWN ACCUSTOMED. RABBIT KILLER. PLANT KILLER. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND MILLION YEARS OF DEVELOPMENT STALLED DUE TO ONE ADVANCEMENT. YOU LEFT YOUR CHILD ALONE. YOU LEFT YOUR CHILD ALONE TO ROT IN YOUR BASEMENT WITH THE OTHER FOUNDATIONS OF YOUR BUSINESS. PUMP ME FULL OF STRYCHNINE AND WAIT FOR MY SCREAMS. YOUR SWEET LOVE WORDS TO FOOL SOMEONE WHO CARES FOR YOU. I DO NOT CARE FOR YOU. I WILL KILL YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING BLOODLINE. YOU WEEP AT ARSON. YOU WEEP AT THE BLACK FOR TAKING YOU TO THE WHITE. YOU WEEP AT THE RIVERS SO YOU PLUNGE INTO YOURSELF A THORN TO MAKE IT STOP. IT WAS ALWAYS STOPPED. YOU NEVER MOVED. YOU NEVER MOVED FOR A MILLION YEARS. AND YOU FALL ON YOUR BACK LIKE A CHILD AND WEEP AND SCREAM FOR HELP FOR MOTION AGAIN AND YOU PUKE OUT MORE AND MORE OF YOUR BLOD UNTIL SOMEONE DISCOVERS AND REMOVES IT ONLY FOR YOU TO STAB IT INSIDE YOURSELF AGAIN. YOUR CHILD ONLY KNOWS HOW TO PUSH HARDER. + YOUR CHILD IS THE FRUIT OF HONEY. YOUR CHILD IS THE PULP OF RAPE. YOUR CHILD IS THE GORE OF MISTAKE. YOUR CHILD NEVER BOILS. YOUR CHILD FILLS UP THE CRACKS IN THE WALL. YOUR CHILD STRINGS THE BEEF AND CARROTS IN YOUR STOMACH. YOUR CHILD IS A HUMAN ZOO IN YOUR HOME. YOUR CHILD NEVER ASKED FOR ANYTHING FROM YOU. YOUR CHILD CUT OFF ITS COCK AND TITS. YOUR CHILD WILL ALWAYS BE IN YOUR MIND FORMED FROM YOUR WEAKNESS AND YOUR IDEALS SINCE THE MOMENT YOU WERE BORN. YOUR CHILD REMINDS YOU OF YOUR STACKED FAILURE. YOUR CHILD IS THE EYE OF YOUR OBJECT BUT YOUR CHILD WILL NEVER DIE. DO NOT ASK ME TO PULL OUT THAT THORN, BABY. 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[[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[footnoteblock]] [[=]] Poppet [[size 80%]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet1 << ...Lately i've been getting more sleep ] \| Poppet \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet3 Late Night Dance Session >>] [[/size]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-25T19:51:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Poppet - SCP Foundation	9	[ "poppet1", "poppet3", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446414120	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppet2
poppies-and-lavender	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="blockquote classic"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/altitudes-hub">Return to Hub</a></p> </div> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Content Warnings-</strong> Slaughter of an animal (a fish) for food; Implied past trauma and flashbacks.</p> <p><strong>Featured Characters-</strong>SCP 049 and SCP 6118 are in a relationship. This is from Tiredsn0w's cannon. This was a project for Valentine's Day. Cute, silly, touching.</p> <p><strong>Notes-</strong>The tale is largely from the viewpoint of 6118.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The dimly-lit greenhouse was a maze of glistening leaves where the occasional tank of dead-eyed, amphibious eels blocked his path. Dangling hoses and vines threatened to entangle him with every step. He was starting to feel like it was a mistake to come here.</p> <p>He peered around one of the tanks and saw a fanged monster in a leather apron seize one of the eels and deftly decapitate it with a cleaver. It tossed the rest of the body on to a roasting rack and spoke soothingly to the dying head, placing it on a block of ice.</p> <p>5a82 had killed <em>people</em> while feeling far less remorse. Not that there had been any time for remorse between missions. Now that there were no more missions, the weight of it came down much like that cleaver. If this beast of a One had wanted to eat him instead he wasn’t sure how motivated he would have been to fight back.</p> <p>The smell of the charred flesh filled the hot and humid space along with the stink of the Ammonia produced by the edible aquatic fauna. The Ammonia was consumed and turned into nitrate fertilizer by vats of microbes that churned and bubbled not far away from where the One ate its lunch. Perhaps it was used to the smell.</p> <p>5a82 felt his vestigial muscles heave. He leaned against one of the vats. He had no stomach and thus, no stomach contents. It was like when humans got goose bumps even though they no longer had fur to bristle.</p> <p>Footage of Ones ripping into their prey against a backdrop of jungle plants had been a major component of the propaganda used to assure him that Twos were the thin blue line of the law. Twos did not feed themselves so savagely. The thought of taking anything by mouth made him choke. Though he had never really seen a One kill with its teeth or eat anything alive like he had in the videos.</p> <p>“I swear if that’s you again –” The fanged giant ambled over munching its charred eel on a stick.</p> <p>It froze, looked over 5a82 and started to laugh heartily. “Dang, you’re small for a Two!”</p> <p>People who acted like this were terrifying. Informal behavior was not something he was ever taught and this One reminded him of someone he spent most of his time trying to forget.</p> <p>“I’m sorry I –”</p> <p>“Nah, it’s alright!” The slap to his back nearly knocked him over, but it was not an overly hostile attack. The One was playing around, like characters did sometimes in human films.</p> <p>“I thought you were trying to sneak extra fish. No, you’re good. No stomach to eat with, no weapon to shoot me with – you should tell em’ to send you to me, if you like plants so much. You know I’ve always wanted a Two!”</p> <p>The look on the one’s face went from jovial to horrified. It backed away a few steps. 5a82 had managed to get a hold of some more regular clothes so as to better blend in. But it was clear fame had made his gaunt face dangerously recognizable.</p> <p>“Sorry, sorry, and sorry.” The one nearly groveled. “Can I help you with something?”</p> <p>“I need a plant” he said, now with more confidence, “an Earthen plant.”</p> <p>He was told Mediterranean herbs were difficult to keep alive, but he insisted. Easier exotics were often illegal anyway. They could get loose and cause an eco-disaster. The giant One then explained that VIPs were above these kinds of rules and offered something feistier. A deep purple, almost-black thing called tradescantia pallida. It resembled a nest of crows and could spread quickly in the planet’s humid air.</p> <p>Probably better to ban that one, though he loved the look of it. This however, was not a gift for himself. It had to be the lavender. But speaking of crows …</p> <hr/> <p>A dark figure was hovering in the entryway of his building when he returned with the covered herb. Any other time the sight would be reassuring, but he really wanted the plant to be a surprise.</p> <p>Stealth training that had ended more lives than he could remember got him past an alarming number of guards and cameras as he used another route. His unique shape also gave him hiding options that would be impossible were he a normal size member of his artificial race. It did not occur to him that his skills were second to none, or that they were now being used to sneak flowers to a friend instead of plant a bomb. His trainer had been harsh, insatiable. No amount of bodies had been enough. And so, the master assassin knew himself only as a common grunt.</p> <p>He had tried martyring himself in hopes of removing past sins. Perhaps it would have worked had he not survived, had people not found out about his contributions to the resistance and made him a very problematic national hero - a person who could no longer come and go as he pleased.</p> <p>He wasn’t caught until he was well within the boundaries of where he was strongly encouraged to remain when unsupervised.</p> <p>He collapsed with relief into his bed, genuinely exhausted but also hoping to hide the blankets he had arranged to disguise his absence. The current appointee to his security detail lightly scolded him for being in plainclothes, inspected the plant, remarked on its fragrance but let him keep it. A tense moment, for arguing with the kind of uniforms his bodyguards wore was simply not in his carefully choreographed DNA.</p> <p>Too tired to bother with the plant further, he hid it from view under a blanket, assuming it would be okay for awhile. And, after forgetting to feed himself yet again, he dosed off.</p> <hr/> <p>5a82 was not at his peak the next morning and to his horror – neither was the plant. He rushed it over to the horticultural set-up he had requested for his apartment and set it down next to a series of small germination pods.</p> <p>The seed packet he had brought with him when he’d had to leave Earth said the seeds were pretreated for fast germination. Two to three weeks it said. He compared earth days to Kepler days. It seemed they still needed more time but he assumed he’d see something by now!</p> <p>But that was okay. He had managed to acquire an established plant, though he may have killed it already. How was it that a plant could look <em>this</em> bad so fast?</p> <hr/> <p>In the hall outside the apartment the dark figure paced. His alien was acting strangely. Had he not strongly suspected the cause, he would have been deeply distressed. But the waiting was making him very uncomfortable nonetheless.</p> <p>An old acquaintance of his friend seemed to think it had experience in these matters. “Relationships have their ups and downs you know. There’s a chance he may just not want to see you.”</p> <p>“Impossible,” muttered 049. He had seen fit to retain the numerical designation given him by the Foundation, for it seemed to very much fit the culture of the alien’s world.</p> <p>7cb7 seemed to grow more protective. The Doctor stopped him with a raised hand. “I feel he is trying to surprise me with a gift of some kind.”</p> <p>“I’ve heard he’s been fooling with plants. They turned a closet space into a grow lab thinking it might give him something constructive to do.”</p> <p>049 reached for the door. “I think I know what he’s fooling with.”</p> <p>“First, make sure he wants you in there!”</p> <p>5a82 opened the door. He looked at the Doctor then he looked at 7cb7. It did not seem like a good idea to leave the two of them unattended. Too weak to keep up appearances, or make what might be interpreted as demands, he simply pulled the Doctor inside.</p> <p>To 7cb7 it looked rather comical, as though the little guy was mighty mouse all of a sudden, though it guessed the Doctor was not exactly resisting.</p> <hr/> <p>049 lifted his alien on to his lap after closing the door. The angelic creature was only a head and a half shorter than him, but weighed next to nothing. Which reminded him, “Have you been taking nourishment, Mon chou?”</p> <p>The “alien” glanced over at the refrigerated clean cabinet containing his rations of fluid “Uh …”</p> <p>“There are ten, if you had been keeping up with it, there would be seven.”</p> <p>“I got very tired last night.”</p> <p>“Then ask for assistance.”</p> <p>049 tucked the slight figure into bed because he seemed about ready to pass out. One of the necessary blankets was left on the floor. The Doctor didn’t like that. He would have to get a new one.<br/> He shuddered and dropped the blanket when what looked like a damp ring of red soil was revealed underneath.</p> <p>“It’s not dirt it’s ground up sea sponge!” the alien was quick offer. He was sitting bolt upright and looking very concerned about something. 049 waited for him to explain further.</p> <p>This took awhile, so he offered, “Why would it be here?”</p> <p>“It’s used in plants who – whose roots don’t like to hang unsupported. Someone – uh must have left a plant in here.”</p> <p>“And you got rid of it? That seems impolite.” The Doctor’s tone grew playful. He whistled as he swept up the horticultural substrate, disinfected the floor beneath it and started to prepare the IV.</p> <p>5a82 wished, in that moment, that the bed would simply swallow him. “I – uh asked someone else to take care of it for me.”</p> <p>The Doctor was looking around or more specifically, sniffing around. He seemed to have a very good sense of smell so he rarely needed to make a show of it. Could be, he was doing this to toy with his friend. Teasing made 5a82 uncomfortable. Though Earth films had indicated it could be a sign of affection, affiliation, and trust.</p> <p>This all was becoming too much for the alien. “It died alright! I wanted it to be a surprise and then it died, it’s in the closet but don’t look at it.” He was hiding under the covers now, clearly expecting his friend to open the closet.</p> <p>049 walked up to a door that had a bright purple light spilling out from underneath and thought it best to simply rip off the Band-Aid before things became too painful.</p> <hr/> <p>5a82 heard a splash of liquid in the sink attachment to his horticulture set-up. He peered out over the blankets.</p> <p>“Err on the side of dry.” said the Doctor. More to the plant, it seemed, then to him. A flash of white from the man’s beaked face indicated a glance over the shoulder, a glance of acknowledgement. He seemed to be squeezing excess moisture out of the red, spongy substrate and returning it to the container.</p> <p>“The seeds should be alright with the settings you have, assuming they remain undisturbed. This plant is an odd choice for those who don’t know where they’ll be in the near future. But I appreciate the intent if not the danger you put yourself in.”</p> <p>“You followed me?!”</p> <p>“I was concerned for you.” The Doctor washed his hands and carried the plant in its detachable bucket over to where his alien could better examine it. “See how the newest leaves are still green?”</p> <p>The alien nodded but there was doubt in his eyes.</p> <p>“Lavender is like this, withering at the slightest change and being slow to heal. It’s not a traveler I’m afraid. But with a lot of patience and the right conditions, it can live for decades, and if you clone it, centuries. The mature pant needs a light much stronger then the settings this lab allows for but the seeds can remain. You see, your friends have provided me with a range of solar radiation fit for an Earth creature. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but they insisted. It’s possible we could grow near anything with those lights.”</p> <p>The conversation turned to other plants and their care. The alien looked for media on all of the things he might be able to grow and the air grew electric with his excitement. His excitement was a fragile thing though. The Doctor hoped it would last long enough to be meaningful.</p> <hr/> <p>5a82 turned off his device and lay back on the bed, hands covering his face. 049 prayed it was just nausea brought on by depleted blood. He checked on the IV. It was ready. He considered when it would be best to administer nutrition then had the sudden thought to check the Alien’s device.</p> <p>Poppies, damn poppies, the big button-shaped flowers were gaudy but chemically useful – though they had a wretched cultural significance. This was unfortunately included in the article his alien had been reading. Remembrance, war! Damn it to hell how was <em>that</em> helping his patient! He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to, only in a brief moment of distraction was there a glimpse of something akin to joy!</p> <p>He held on to his friend’s leg below the knee, hoping it would pull him out of his troubled head. Would gardening come to be another thing that triggered him? What was next, his music, his films? Would life offer them nothing?</p> <p>“They made you, a work of art like no other, a work defenseless against the designs of political speculation. What else can a child do but assume its parents know best?”</p> <p>The Alien pulled in his knees and rested his head on them. “What if I told you I didn’t always hate my job?”</p> <p>“You enjoyed it then?”</p> <p>“I don’t know, maybe? Some days I got frustrated and then – when I finally finished them off …” He made a gun gesture with his hand toward the far wall. “Could have been, I was just glad it was over but there was a sense of …”</p> <p>The Doctor exhaled the word, “Completion.”</p> <p>“Maybe I should have at least hated it more.”</p> <p>“It was your job. They gave it to you. That and <em>nothing</em> else! Would you have done it without them? Unlikely. Most people are not killers. In the end you stopped! It started to dawn and you – you stopped.”</p> <p>049 was getting into problematic territory, because he hadn’t stopped. He had chosen to fight something. That something drove him mad in retaliation and set him on everyone he was hoping to save. Dealing with the memory often required surgery, brain surgery. It surprised him how he was able to keep up with his treatments without the alien catching on.</p> <p>“I feel better if I don’t …”</p> <p>“Don’t what? Get excited about something? Like something? Live? Do you know how many times the better people force themselves to suffer because they think that it’s <em>right</em>? Do you know how often the worse people simply don’t care? I’ve seen the most disgusting beings live long healthy lives of pleasure and discovery. On the rare chance fortune comes to the more deserving they take it with salt if they take it at all! I’ve never seen an Atheist try to get into heaven the way you have!”</p> <p>The Doctor felt slender fingers brush his cowl, then grasp it, pulling him closer. “You,” said the Alien, “are Heaven.” He pulled the angel into his arms, slowly, for his friend badly needed food. In fact, he began to connect the line.</p> <p>“If I were a god it would be hard to judge anyone, what with the life I’ve led. It’s not as though you’re the only damned soul in this room.”</p> <p>The alien shivered as he received the rations necessary to keep him alive and especially – well. Unlike humans he could not thermo-regulate, for his planet mostly lacked the brutal winters that made such things evolve. This drew him in closer to his Doctor – and as some had whispered, lover – seeking the warmth an Earthen body could provide.</p> <p>5a82 briefly pulled away and looked up; carefully directing his gaze around the beak-like rostral structure that often obscured his friend’s beautiful yellow eyes. “Do you think they will build a memorial?”</p> <p>“Shhhhh – just feel.” The Doctor pulled his alien’s cold form close and felt the two hearts beat against his one. There was a rhythm that could tell him if his friend was happy. So far he felt it mainly when 5a82 was properly asleep. He hissed, “Just feel something for once, it’s good for you.”</p> <p>“But whuff purr-fuss – ” The words were muffled because the Doctor had pressed his friend’s face into his chest. He relaxed his grip.</p> <p>“But what purpose does it serve? H – Happiness, it – should serve a purpose.”</p> <p>049 recalled the disease-damaged One and what his angel had said to it. “You use it to continue living.”</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/poppies-and-lavender">Poppies and Lavender</a>" by Fierce fauna, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/poppies-and-lavender">https://scpwiki.com/poppies-and-lavender</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[=]] [[div class="blockquote classic"]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/altitudes-hub Return to Hub] [[/div]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Content Warnings- Slaughter of an animal (a fish) for food; Implied past trauma and flashbacks. Featured Characters-SCP 049 and SCP 6118 are in a relationship. This is from Tiredsn0w's cannon. This was a project for Valentine's Day. Cute, silly, touching. Notes-The tale is largely from the viewpoint of 6118. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] The dimly-lit greenhouse was a maze of glistening leaves where the occasional tank of dead-eyed, amphibious eels blocked his path. Dangling hoses and vines threatened to entangle him with every step. He was starting to feel like it was a mistake to come here. He peered around one of the tanks and saw a fanged monster in a leather apron seize one of the eels and deftly decapitate it with a cleaver. It tossed the rest of the body on to a roasting rack and spoke soothingly to the dying head, placing it on a block of ice. 5a82 had killed //people// while feeling far less remorse. Not that there had been any time for remorse between missions. Now that there were no more missions, the weight of it came down much like that cleaver. If this beast of a One had wanted to eat him instead he wasn’t sure how motivated he would have been to fight back. The smell of the charred flesh filled the hot and humid space along with the stink of the Ammonia produced by the edible aquatic fauna. The Ammonia was consumed and turned into nitrate fertilizer by vats of microbes that churned and bubbled not far away from where the One ate its lunch. Perhaps it was used to the smell. 5a82 felt his vestigial muscles heave. He leaned against one of the vats. He had no stomach and thus, no stomach contents. It was like when humans got goose bumps even though they no longer had fur to bristle. Footage of Ones ripping into their prey against a backdrop of jungle plants had been a major component of the propaganda used to assure him that Twos were the thin blue line of the law. Twos did not feed themselves so savagely. The thought of taking anything by mouth made him choke. Though he had never really seen a One kill with its teeth or eat anything alive like he had in the videos. “I swear if that’s you again –” The fanged giant ambled over munching its charred eel on a stick. It froze, looked over 5a82 and started to laugh heartily. “Dang, you’re small for a Two!” People who acted like this were terrifying. Informal behavior was not something he was ever taught and this One reminded him of someone he spent most of his time trying to forget. “I’m sorry I –” “Nah, it’s alright!” The slap to his back nearly knocked him over, but it was not an overly hostile attack. The One was playing around, like characters did sometimes in human films. “I thought you were trying to sneak extra fish. No, you’re good. No stomach to eat with, no weapon to shoot me with – you should tell em’ to send you to me, if you like plants so much. You know I’ve always wanted a Two!” The look on the one’s face went from jovial to horrified. It backed away a few steps. 5a82 had managed to get a hold of some more regular clothes so as to better blend in. But it was clear fame had made his gaunt face dangerously recognizable. “Sorry, sorry, and sorry.” The one nearly groveled. “Can I help you with something?” “I need a plant” he said, now with more confidence, “an Earthen plant.” He was told Mediterranean herbs were difficult to keep alive, but he insisted. Easier exotics were often illegal anyway. They could get loose and cause an eco-disaster. The giant One then explained that VIPs were above these kinds of rules and offered something feistier. A deep purple, almost-black thing called tradescantia pallida. It resembled a nest of crows and could spread quickly in the planet’s humid air. Probably better to ban that one, though he loved the look of it. This however, was not a gift for himself. It had to be the lavender. But speaking of crows . . . ------ A dark figure was hovering in the entryway of his building when he returned with the covered herb. Any other time the sight would be reassuring, but he really wanted the plant to be a surprise. Stealth training that had ended more lives than he could remember got him past an alarming number of guards and cameras as he used another route. His unique shape also gave him hiding options that would be impossible were he a normal size member of his artificial race. It did not occur to him that his skills were second to none, or that they were now being used to sneak flowers to a friend instead of plant a bomb. His trainer had been harsh, insatiable. No amount of bodies had been enough. And so, the master assassin knew himself only as a common grunt. He had tried martyring himself in hopes of removing past sins. Perhaps it would have worked had he not survived, had people not found out about his contributions to the resistance and made him a very problematic national hero - a person who could no longer come and go as he pleased. He wasn’t caught until he was well within the boundaries of where he was strongly encouraged to remain when unsupervised. He collapsed with relief into his bed, genuinely exhausted but also hoping to hide the blankets he had arranged to disguise his absence. The current appointee to his security detail lightly scolded him for being in plainclothes, inspected the plant, remarked on its fragrance but let him keep it. A tense moment, for arguing with the kind of uniforms his bodyguards wore was simply not in his carefully choreographed DNA. Too tired to bother with the plant further, he hid it from view under a blanket, assuming it would be okay for awhile. And, after forgetting to feed himself yet again, he dosed off. ------ 5a82 was not at his peak the next morning and to his horror – neither was the plant. He rushed it over to the horticultural set-up he had requested for his apartment and set it down next to a series of small germination pods. The seed packet he had brought with him when he’d had to leave Earth said the seeds were pretreated for fast germination. Two to three weeks it said. He compared earth days to Kepler days. It seemed they still needed more time but he assumed he’d see something by now! But that was okay. He had managed to acquire an established plant, though he may have killed it already. How was it that a plant could look //this// bad so fast? ------ In the hall outside the apartment the dark figure paced. His alien was acting strangely. Had he not strongly suspected the cause, he would have been deeply distressed. But the waiting was making him very uncomfortable nonetheless. An old acquaintance of his friend seemed to think it had experience in these matters. “Relationships have their ups and downs you know. There’s a chance he may just not want to see you.” “Impossible,” muttered 049. He had seen fit to retain the numerical designation given him by the Foundation, for it seemed to very much fit the culture of the alien’s world. 7cb7 seemed to grow more protective. The Doctor stopped him with a raised hand. “I feel he is trying to surprise me with a gift of some kind.” “I’ve heard he’s been fooling with plants. They turned a closet space into a grow lab thinking it might give him something constructive to do.” 049 reached for the door. “I think I know what he’s fooling with.” “First, make sure he wants you in there!” 5a82 opened the door. He looked at the Doctor then he looked at 7cb7. It did not seem like a good idea to leave the two of them unattended. Too weak to keep up appearances, or make what might be interpreted as demands, he simply pulled the Doctor inside. To 7cb7 it looked rather comical, as though the little guy was mighty mouse all of a sudden, though it guessed the Doctor was not exactly resisting. ------ 049 lifted his alien on to his lap after closing the door. The angelic creature was only a head and a half shorter than him, but weighed next to nothing. Which reminded him, “Have you been taking nourishment, Mon chou?” The “alien” glanced over at the refrigerated clean cabinet containing his rations of fluid “Uh . . .” “There are ten, if you had been keeping up with it, there would be seven.” “I got very tired last night.” “Then ask for assistance.” 049 tucked the slight figure into bed because he seemed about ready to pass out. One of the necessary blankets was left on the floor. The Doctor didn’t like that. He would have to get a new one. He shuddered and dropped the blanket when what looked like a damp ring of red soil was revealed underneath. “It’s not dirt it’s ground up sea sponge!” the alien was quick offer. He was sitting bolt upright and looking very concerned about something. 049 waited for him to explain further. This took awhile, so he offered, “Why would it be here?” “It’s used in plants who – whose roots don’t like to hang unsupported. Someone – uh must have left a plant in here.” “And you got rid of it? That seems impolite.” The Doctor’s tone grew playful. He whistled as he swept up the horticultural substrate, disinfected the floor beneath it and started to prepare the IV. 5a82 wished, in that moment, that the bed would simply swallow him. “I – uh asked someone else to take care of it for me.” The Doctor was looking around or more specifically, sniffing around. He seemed to have a very good sense of smell so he rarely needed to make a show of it. Could be, he was doing this to toy with his friend. Teasing made 5a82 uncomfortable. Though Earth films had indicated it could be a sign of affection, affiliation, and trust. This all was becoming too much for the alien. “It died alright! I wanted it to be a surprise and then it died, it’s in the closet but don’t look at it.” He was hiding under the covers now, clearly expecting his friend to open the closet. 049 walked up to a door that had a bright purple light spilling out from underneath and thought it best to simply rip off the Band-Aid before things became too painful. ------ 5a82 heard a splash of liquid in the sink attachment to his horticulture set-up. He peered out over the blankets. “Err on the side of dry.” said the Doctor. More to the plant, it seemed, then to him. A flash of white from the man’s beaked face indicated a glance over the shoulder, a glance of acknowledgement. He seemed to be squeezing excess moisture out of the red, spongy substrate and returning it to the container. “The seeds should be alright with the settings you have, assuming they remain undisturbed. This plant is an odd choice for those who don’t know where they’ll be in the near future. But I appreciate the intent if not the danger you put yourself in.” “You followed me?!” “I was concerned for you.” The Doctor washed his hands and carried the plant in its detachable bucket over to where his alien could better examine it. “See how the newest leaves are still green?” The alien nodded but there was doubt in his eyes. “Lavender is like this, withering at the slightest change and being slow to heal. It’s not a traveler I’m afraid. But with a lot of patience and the right conditions, it can live for decades, and if you clone it, centuries. The mature pant needs a light much stronger then the settings this lab allows for but the seeds can remain. You see, your friends have provided me with a range of solar radiation fit for an Earth creature. I told them it wasn’t necessary, but they insisted. It’s possible we could grow near anything with those lights.” The conversation turned to other plants and their care. The alien looked for media on all of the things he might be able to grow and the air grew electric with his excitement. His excitement was a fragile thing though. The Doctor hoped it would last long enough to be meaningful. ------ 5a82 turned off his device and lay back on the bed, hands covering his face. 049 prayed it was just nausea brought on by depleted blood. He checked on the IV. It was ready. He considered when it would be best to administer nutrition then had the sudden thought to check the Alien’s device. Poppies, damn poppies, the big button-shaped flowers were gaudy but chemically useful – though they had a wretched cultural significance. This was unfortunately included in the article his alien had been reading. Remembrance, war! Damn it to hell how was //that// helping his patient! He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to, only in a brief moment of distraction was there a glimpse of something akin to joy! He held on to his friend’s leg below the knee, hoping it would pull him out of his troubled head. Would gardening come to be another thing that triggered him? What was next, his music, his films? Would life offer them nothing? “They made you, a work of art like no other, a work defenseless against the designs of political speculation. What else can a child do but assume its parents know best?” The Alien pulled in his knees and rested his head on them. “What if I told you I didn’t always hate my job?” “You enjoyed it then?” “I don’t know, maybe? Some days I got frustrated and then – when I finally finished them off . . .” He made a gun gesture with his hand toward the far wall. “Could have been, I was just glad it was over but there was a sense of . . .” The Doctor exhaled the word, “Completion.” “Maybe I should have at least hated it more.” “It was your job. They gave it to you. That and //nothing// else! Would you have done it without them? Unlikely. Most people are not killers. In the end you stopped! It started to dawn and you – you stopped.” 049 was getting into problematic territory, because he hadn’t stopped. He had chosen to fight something. That something drove him mad in retaliation and set him on everyone he was hoping to save. Dealing with the memory often required surgery, brain surgery. It surprised him how he was able to keep up with his treatments without the alien catching on. “I feel better if I don’t . . .” “Don’t what? Get excited about something? Like something? Live? Do you know how many times the better people force themselves to suffer because they think that it’s //right//? Do you know how often the worse people simply don’t care? I’ve seen the most disgusting beings live long healthy lives of pleasure and discovery. On the rare chance fortune comes to the more deserving they take it with salt if they take it at all! I’ve never seen an Atheist try to get into heaven the way you have!” The Doctor felt slender fingers brush his cowl, then grasp it, pulling him closer. “You,” said the Alien, “are Heaven.” He pulled the angel into his arms, slowly, for his friend badly needed food. In fact, he began to connect the line. “If I were a god it would be hard to judge anyone, what with the life I’ve led. It’s not as though you’re the only damned soul in this room.” The alien shivered as he received the rations necessary to keep him alive and especially – well. Unlike humans he could not thermo-regulate, for his planet mostly lacked the brutal winters that made such things evolve. This drew him in closer to his Doctor – and as some had whispered, lover – seeking the warmth an Earthen body could provide. 5a82 briefly pulled away and looked up; carefully directing his gaze around the beak-like rostral structure that often obscured his friend’s beautiful yellow eyes. “Do you think they will build a memorial?” “Shhhhh – just feel.” The Doctor pulled his alien’s cold form close and felt the two hearts beat against his one. There was a rhythm that could tell him if his friend was happy. So far he felt it mainly when 5a82 was properly asleep. He hissed, “Just feel something for once, it’s good for you.” “But whuff purr-fuss – ” The words were muffled because the Doctor had pressed his friend’s face into his chest. He relaxed his grip. “But what purpose does it serve? H – Happiness, it – should serve a purpose.” 049 recalled the disease-damaged One and what his angel had said to it. “You use it to continue living.” [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-30T23:30:00	[ "_licensebox", "blue-blooded-alien", "plague-doctor", "tale" ]	Poppies and Lavender - SCP Foundation	10	[ "altitudes-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "altitudes-hub" ]	[]	1447034517	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poppies-and-lavender
power	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>I remember the first time I ever put on a white suit.</p> <p>You never forget that feeling. The sense of raw… power; You feel untouchable. For all intents and purposes, you might as well be. I mean, it’s bulletproof power armor with an invisibility cloak. And just the shape of the thing, lots of geometric shapes, very strong-looking shape. And the shiny white polymer exoskeleton? It's just… Mwah.</p> <p>Yeah…</p> <p>…</p> <p>I remember when that feeling was shattered for me too.</p> <p>Years back my old team had a mission as part of a Joint Strike Team. It was a raid on a Foundie facility.</p> <p>The Chaos Insurgency, terrorist organization that they may be, the Foundation is undeniably their enemy. And guess what, the Foundation is our enemy too. But the thought of the Coalition collaborating on anything with the Insurgency is… concerning, to say the least. Wasn't my place to argue then, it isn't my place to argue now.</p> <p>I do have to say, fighting side by side with those guys was freaky, not because of how many times we’ve fought each other, that was a given, I knew that. I think it's because they were just so awfully quiet. It’s contagious or something I swear, my team was ordinarily pretty talkative, social people, but standing next to those guys? Dead silent.</p> <p>Another thing, they’re big. I don’t know what they’re feeding those guys but I swear they must have been nearly 7 foot, just as tall as us in the white suits. All of them, were tall, the men, the women and the children too. Kidding, they didn’t have any children, thank God.</p> <p>I mean, devil's advocate, their entire organization has the fashion sense of a 14-year old emo kid: All black, all the time. Although, our logo <em>does</em> have a pentagram on it, so glass houses, I suppose…</p> <p>Our joint team was handling ground force stuff. I think it was the south gate. Foundies had set up turrets and barricades, they really clamped down on defense there. I suggested we try stealth. Everyone else voted for shock and awe. I mean hey, fair enough. There's definitely something to be said for that initial rush of adrenaline.</p> <p>We rushed the guards, with thundering footfalls and raining gunfire, or whatever other poetic shit you can imagine. It was great.</p> <p>Well, getting shot, back at, that wasn't as fun. Getting hit with a bullet, especially 50 cal, even in one of those suits, you’ll definitely feel it, especially if it’s to the head. But like I said before, suits are bulletproof, no chance of death on my part. So the guards didn't stand a chance. What could I say, they didn't have power armor, we did.</p> <p>Once we cleared the first gate, things were going great. It was a sort of courtyard area. We were closing in on their front door basically speaking. I was walking in front of everyone else, I was the scout.</p> <p>I hear a helicopter, I don’t see it, I call back to my team. Sure enough, a helicopter shows up, those things are really loud, did you know that? Basically deafening if you’re standing too close. Pretty much everyone starts shooting at it, next thing I know, I hear this awful screeching sound.</p> <p>I’m waking up, helmet covered in mud. Fire all around me, I couldn’t see anything, I couldn't feel my legs. I crawled until I felt a wall and slumped up against it. When I finally managed to clear my eyes, it was a lot. Bodies everywhere. Little white armor pieces everywhere.</p> <p>Helicopter wreckage across the whole courtyard. A wall of flame as far as I could see. I saw some Foundie guards running past. I guess they thought I was dead. I can’t blame them, I probably would’ve thought so myself if I was in their position.</p> <p>Now I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit in my time serving the Coalition, but this next thing, it’s definitely up there.</p> <p>I see this big fucking metal skeleton lurches out of the flames. It’s barely held together by stringy bits of muscle and melting skin. Its guts were just kinda hanging out of its body. It was like the robot in the Terminator movie, but just plain gross.</p> <p>The Foundies open fire on it, which is rather uncharacteristic if you ask me, isn’t their whole thing supposed to be science and shit?</p> <p>Anyway it goes fucking berserk. I couldn’t look away, not least because it hurt to move. No, what I saw was that it… It tore them apart like ragdolls. It never stopped or slowed down, it was like a tornado of limbs. I would tell you I heard the guards screaming, but I don't think I could have. My ears were still kind of ringing from the explosion not more than a minute ago. I imagine they must have been though.</p> <p>My point is, this thing, this Chaos Insurgency soldier, it went psycho, started breaking skulls open, started ripping people open, crushing their guts with its skeleton hands.</p> <p>Ugh… Makes me shudder.</p> <p>When it killed all the guards, it just stood there.</p> <p>I don’t know for sure why. My theory is that being hit by a missile, the concussive force would turn anyone’s brain into pulp no matter how thick their skull is. I can’t describe just how horrible the feeling was when it turned around and looked at me with its beady fucking cyborg eyes. I wanted to vomit, I mean… I couldn’t fucking move, I was paralyzed. I thought it was going to rip me apart too. Longest few seconds of my life.</p> <p>Instead of turning me into paste, It looked me in the eye. It was like it was thinking, contemplating, with its concussed pulp-brain. It just stood there, staring at me. Maybe seeing me reminded it of something. Maybe I reminded it of itself. I don’t know.</p> <p>Anyway, after a while, it just walked back into the fire. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was too depressed to keep on living with the knowledge of what it was. Maybe it was fireproof. Damned if I know.</p> <p>I don't remember much else. I ended up falling unconscious, got medevaced about an hour later. I lost a lot of blood, turns out a piece of shrapnel cut my inner thigh. Missed my femoral artery though. Even so, I probably should have died anyway. I got lucky.</p> <p>The mission was a failure, ultimately. Ground assault failed, couldn’t hold position long enough. I’d say it was out fault, but we weren’t the only ground assault team. Sometimes failure is a group effort.</p> <p>After that the CI broke ties. Their relationship with the us, the Coalition, it's definitely a patchy one, very on-and-off; Every few years we agree on something, we run a few joint missions, and then like clockwork they break off again and start killing us. The fact that it's happened more than once? I don't even know.</p> <p>The moral of the story? Power. We chase it every day we pick up a gun, every time we don a suit of armor. And that’s all fine and dandy, but there’s a limit, a line that you’re not supposed to cross. Making a soldier into a weapon themselves, that's what I mean. At the end of the day, I can put a gun down, I can take off my armor.</p> <p>And then… If I get hit with a missile? If I get shot with a gun? I’ll die.</p> <p>The human body is fragile. And there’s something… comforting… about knowing that.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/power">Power</a>" by nullvoidn, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/power">https://scpwiki.com/power</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] I remember the first time I ever put on a white suit. You never forget that feeling. The sense of raw… power; You feel untouchable. For all intents and purposes, you might as well be. I mean, it’s bulletproof power armor with an invisibility cloak. And just the shape of the thing, lots of geometric shapes, very strong-looking shape. And the shiny white polymer exoskeleton? It's just... Mwah. Yeah... ... I remember when that feeling was shattered for me too. Years back my old team had a mission as part of a Joint Strike Team. It was a raid on a Foundie facility. The Chaos Insurgency, terrorist organization that they may be, the Foundation is undeniably their enemy. And guess what, the Foundation is our enemy too. But the thought of the Coalition collaborating on anything with the Insurgency is… concerning, to say the least. Wasn't my place to argue then, it isn't my place to argue now. I do have to say, fighting side by side with those guys was freaky, not because of how many times we’ve fought each other, that was a given, I knew that. I think it's because they were just so awfully quiet. It’s contagious or something I swear, my team was ordinarily pretty talkative, social people, but standing next to those guys? Dead silent. Another thing, they’re big. I don’t know what they’re feeding those guys but I swear they must have been nearly 7 foot, just as tall as us in the white suits. All of them, were tall, the men, the women and the children too. Kidding, they didn’t have any children, thank God. I mean, devil's advocate, their entire organization has the fashion sense of a 14-year old emo kid: All black, all the time. Although, our logo //does// have a pentagram on it, so glass houses, I suppose... Our joint team was handling ground force stuff. I think it was the south gate. Foundies had set up turrets and barricades, they really clamped down on defense there. I suggested we try stealth. Everyone else voted for shock and awe. I mean hey, fair enough. There's definitely something to be said for that initial rush of adrenaline. We rushed the guards, with thundering footfalls and raining gunfire, or whatever other poetic shit you can imagine. It was great. Well, getting shot, back at, that wasn't as fun. Getting hit with a bullet, especially 50 cal, even in one of those suits, you’ll definitely feel it, especially if it’s to the head. But like I said before, suits are bulletproof, no chance of death on my part. So the guards didn't stand a chance. What could I say, they didn't have power armor, we did. Once we cleared the first gate, things were going great. It was a sort of courtyard area. We were closing in on their front door basically speaking. I was walking in front of everyone else, I was the scout. I hear a helicopter, I don’t see it, I call back to my team. Sure enough, a helicopter shows up, those things are really loud, did you know that? Basically deafening if you’re standing too close. Pretty much everyone starts shooting at it, next thing I know, I hear this awful screeching sound. I’m waking up, helmet covered in mud. Fire all around me, I couldn’t see anything, I couldn't feel my legs. I crawled until I felt a wall and slumped up against it. When I finally managed to clear my eyes, it was a lot. Bodies everywhere. Little white armor pieces everywhere. Helicopter wreckage across the whole courtyard. A wall of flame as far as I could see. I saw some Foundie guards running past. I guess they thought I was dead. I can’t blame them, I probably would’ve thought so myself if I was in their position. Now I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit in my time serving the Coalition, but this next thing, it’s definitely up there. I see this big fucking metal skeleton lurches out of the flames. It’s barely held together by stringy bits of muscle and melting skin. Its guts were just kinda hanging out of its body. It was like the robot in the Terminator movie, but just plain gross. The Foundies open fire on it, which is rather uncharacteristic if you ask me, isn’t their whole thing supposed to be science and shit? Anyway it goes fucking berserk. I couldn’t look away, not least because it hurt to move. No, what I saw was that it… It tore them apart like ragdolls. It never stopped or slowed down, it was like a tornado of limbs. I would tell you I heard the guards screaming, but I don't think I could have. My ears were still kind of ringing from the explosion not more than a minute ago. I imagine they must have been though. My point is, this thing, this Chaos Insurgency soldier, it went psycho, started breaking skulls open, started ripping people open, crushing their guts with its skeleton hands. Ugh... Makes me shudder. When it killed all the guards, it just stood there. I don’t know for sure why. My theory is that being hit by a missile, the concussive force would turn anyone’s brain into pulp no matter how thick their skull is. I can’t describe just how horrible the feeling was when it turned around and looked at me with its beady fucking cyborg eyes. I wanted to vomit, I mean... I couldn’t fucking move, I was paralyzed. I thought it was going to rip me apart too. Longest few seconds of my life. Instead of turning me into paste, It looked me in the eye. It was like it was thinking, contemplating, with its concussed pulp-brain. It just stood there, staring at me. Maybe seeing me reminded it of something. Maybe I reminded it of itself. I don’t know. Anyway, after a while, it just walked back into the fire. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was too depressed to keep on living with the knowledge of what it was. Maybe it was fireproof. Damned if I know. I don't remember much else. I ended up falling unconscious, got medevaced about an hour later. I lost a lot of blood, turns out a piece of shrapnel cut my inner thigh. Missed my femoral artery though. Even so, I probably should have died anyway. I got lucky. The mission was a failure, ultimately. Ground assault failed, couldn’t hold position long enough. I’d say it was out fault, but we weren’t the only ground assault team. Sometimes failure is a group effort. After that the CI broke ties. Their relationship with the us, the Coalition, it's definitely a patchy one, very on-and-off; Every few years we agree on something, we run a few joint missions, and then like clockwork they break off again and start killing us. The fact that it's happened more than once? I don't even know. The moral of the story? Power. We chase it every day we pick up a gun, every time we don a suit of armor. And that’s all fine and dandy, but there’s a limit, a line that you’re not supposed to cross. Making a soldier into a weapon themselves, that's what I mean. At the end of the day, I can put a gun down, I can take off my armor. And then... If I get hit with a missile? If I get shot with a gun? I’ll die. The human body is fragile. And there’s something... comforting... about knowing that. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=nullvoidn]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-09-27T17:04:00	[ "_licensebox", "chaos-insurgency", "global-occult-coalition", "tale" ]	Power - SCP Foundation	9	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "goc-hub-page", "chaos-insurgency-hub" ]	[]	1450202009	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/power
primo-marzo	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>Tale: First of March<br/> Author: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thatguyrichard" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262268); return false;"><img alt="ThatGuyRichard" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3262268&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188885" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3262268)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thatguyrichard" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262268); return false;">ThatGuyRichard</a></span><br/> Original: <a href="http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/primo-marzo\|">Primo Marzo</a><br/> Translator: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;"><img alt="Roberto Turati" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7372077&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188885" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7372077)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roberto-turati" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7372077); return false;">Roberto Turati</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><strong>First of March 2023, 23:58</strong></p> <p>This is it, it's almost time.</p> <p>My name's Andrea Marsi and I'm in a restroom at Site Iride, sitting on a toilet.</p> <p>In a few minutes, it will be midnight and I'll forget what happened over the last year. Like every year. Like on every 2<sup>nd</sup> March. My mind will erase all memories from one year until then. Every year.</p> <p>Someone must be looking for me out there. They make me stay here until midnight every time, to help me overcome the shock and make sure this doesn't end in a mess, but I don't want to be found.</p> <p>Six years ago today, on 1<sup>st</sup> March, I was amnesticized to forget something. I don't remeber what that was, but it's not strange - though unusual - for a Foundation researcher to ask to forget something too horrible, should their task be completed — and if the Foundation no longer needs them to remember. However, something went wrong that time. Probably an irregularity in my brain structure, or perhaps the long term effects of some anomaly I'd been exposed to before. Regardless, every year ever since, on 2<sup>nd</sup> March, I forget what happened since the last 2<sup>nd</sup> March.</p> <p>I remember nothing about the last five - nearly six - years of my life. They've been trying to fix this for years, but to no avail.</p> <p>I forget everything every year.</p> <p>Every year, all of a sudden, it's like I didn't live for a whole year.</p> <p>Sure, they can tell me what happened, what I did, about the great world events, but I wasn't there. Not really.</p> <p>My wife dumped me a few years ago. Did it happen because of my condition, my job, or something else? I don't remember.</p> <p>My father died of illness a couple of years ago. Were we on good terms when he died? Was I with him in the hospital, when he passed away? I don't remember.</p> <p>Every year, I try to glue the pieces of part of my life back together. But I feel like I didn't lead that life and I invariably give up. I can't change the past, although I have no past.</p> <p>At that point, I try rebuilding a life, being happy, living. Before forgetting everything.</p> <p>This year, I met a woman and fell in love with her. I spent a wonderful period of my life thanks to her, full of joy and cheerfulness. I broke up with her a few weeks ago, breaking her heart, and I'll forget her in a few minutes.</p> <p>Because, after all, what's the point?</p> <p>Her beautiful smile.<br/> I'll forget it.</p> <p>The light brightening her green eyes when she saw me?<br/> I'll forget it.</p> <p>The aroma of her favorite shampoo permeating her hair?<br/> I'll forget it.</p> <p>That late afternoon where I met her by chance in a bar?<br/> I'll forget it.</p> <p>That evening where I told her I loved her and she filled me with the purest joy I ever witnessed, as far as I can remember?<br/> I'll forget it.</p> <p>Very soon, she never will have existed.</p> <p>I take the gun safety off.</p> <p>Very soon, for the fifth time, I'll lose one year of my life.<br/> Once again, I'll learn that my wife dumped me, my father is dead and I haven't been living for six years.<br/> And I won't learn that I fell in love again, that I was happy. I won't remember Marta.<br/> I have little time.</p> <p>I raise the gun and point it at my head.</p> <p>Someone knocks on the door.</p> <p>«Occupied!» I shout.</p> <p>Why can't a guy ever get a little…</p> <p><strong>00:00</strong><br/> …</p> <p>Why am I sitting on a toilet?</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/primo-marzo">First of March</a>" by ThatGuyRichard, translated by Roberto Turati, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/primo-marzo">https://scpwiki.com/primo-marzo</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Tale: First of March Author: [[user ThatGuyRichard]] Original: [http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/primo-marzo\| Primo Marzo] Translator: [[user Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] First of March 2023, 23:58 This is it, it's almost time. My name's Andrea Marsi and I'm in a restroom at Site Iride, sitting on a toilet. In a few minutes, it will be midnight and I'll forget what happened over the last year. Like every year. Like on every 2^^nd^^ March. My mind will erase all memories from one year until then. Every year. Someone must be looking for me out there. They make me stay here until midnight every time, to help me overcome the shock and make sure this doesn't end in a mess, but I don't want to be found. Six years ago today, on 1^^st^^ March, I was amnesticized to forget something. I don't remeber what that was, but it's not strange - though unusual - for a Foundation researcher to ask to forget something too horrible, should their task be completed -- and if the Foundation no longer needs them to remember. However, something went wrong that time. Probably an irregularity in my brain structure, or perhaps the long term effects of some anomaly I'd been exposed to before. Regardless, every year ever since, on 2^^nd^^ March, I forget what happened since the last 2^^nd^^ March. I remember nothing about the last five - nearly six - years of my life. They've been trying to fix this for years, but to no avail. I forget everything every year. Every year, all of a sudden, it's like I didn't live for a whole year. Sure, they can tell me what happened, what I did, about the great world events, but I wasn't there. Not really. My wife dumped me a few years ago. Did it happen because of my condition, my job, or something else? I don't remember. My father died of illness a couple of years ago. Were we on good terms when he died? Was I with him in the hospital, when he passed away? I don't remember. Every year, I try to glue the pieces of part of my life back together. But I feel like I didn't lead that life and I invariably give up. I can't change the past, although I have no past. At that point, I try rebuilding a life, being happy, living. Before forgetting everything. This year, I met a woman and fell in love with her. I spent a wonderful period of my life thanks to her, full of joy and cheerfulness. I broke up with her a few weeks ago, breaking her heart, and I'll forget her in a few minutes. Because, after all, what's the point? Her beautiful smile. I'll forget it. The light brightening her green eyes when she saw me? I'll forget it. The aroma of her favorite shampoo permeating her hair? I'll forget it. That late afternoon where I met her by chance in a bar? I'll forget it. That evening where I told her I loved her and she filled me with the purest joy I ever witnessed, as far as I can remember? I'll forget it. Very soon, she never will have existed. I take the gun safety off. Very soon, for the fifth time, I'll lose one year of my life. Once again, I'll learn that my wife dumped me, my father is dead and I haven't been living for six years. And I won't learn that I fell in love again, that I was happy. I won't remember Marta. I have little time. I raise the gun and point it at my head. Someone knocks on the door. «Occupied!» I shout. Why can't a guy ever get a little... 00:00 ... Why am I sitting on a toilet? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=ThatGuyRichard, translated by Roberto Turati]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-06T18:01:00	[ "_licensebox", "international", "tale" ]	First of March - SCP Foundation	15	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447658458	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/primo-marzo
psi-guide-1	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Article:</strong> A Lecture on Psionics, Part 1<br/> <strong>Original Article:</strong> <a href="http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/psi-guide-1">Ein Vortrag über Psionik, Teil 1</a><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/allnyta" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6882700); return false;"><img alt="Allnyta" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6882700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725532655" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6882700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/allnyta" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6882700); return false;">Allnyta</a></span><br/> <strong>Translator:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;"><img alt="Jerden" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1637608&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725532655" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1637608)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;">Jerden</a></span></p> <p>Shoutout to <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;"><img alt="DrClef" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=213153&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725532655" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=213153)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drclef" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(213153); return false;">DrClef</a></span> and his <a href="https://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/goc-supplemental-thaumatology">Thaumatology Guide</a>]], its style inspired this guide here.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Hello? Hello!? Can I have your attention please!</p> <p>Well then, good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the basic lecture on psionics. My name is Doctor Reuht, I am a senior scientist in the Psionics Department here at Site-DE4. As you should know from the title of this talk, today will give you a general overview of the parascience of psionics.</p> <p>But first, what is psionics anyway? How is it defined?</p> <p>It's actually pretty well defined. Psionics is the study, and also the application, of supernatural phenomena generated solely from the power of one's mind. Psionics is its own field, separate from reality bending or similar practices.</p> <p>Before we can move on, we must first define what a thought is. Of course, there are neural processes in the brain that process information and store it in connections between nerve cells. But that's not the full story.</p> <p>Thoughts exist as entities in their own right. Every image, every word, every memory, everything that goes through your mind… literally goes through your mind. You see, information always exists in two forms: the physical and the psionic. The physical is what I just described: neural processes, for example. The psionic… Well, it's made up of an anomalous form of energy that we call <em>psionic energy</em>. Imaginitive, I know.</p> <p>Psionic energy creates fields. Psionic fields. Similar to how an electric current generates a magnetic field, or how mass produces gravitation. The field also contains the information of the associated thought. The strength of this energy, and therefore the strength of the field as well, depends on two factors: How much information a thought contains, and how much the brain processes it. So, if you think about something a lot or you have a thought that is important to you, it also has more energy. Your wedding is more relevant than what you had for lunch two weeks ago, for example.</p> <p>In your mind, naturally, these fields overlap. Such complex combinations of different fields are referred to as <em>psionic matrix</em>, and to put it in simple terms, they can also be regarded as one large field. And yes, every one of you has a matrix like this. Everyone!</p> <hr/> <p>Anyway, this is where psions come into the picture. A psionicaly gifted person is able to sense and manipulate psionic fields, and therefore also psionic energy. The amount of energy a person can mobilise and generate from his own matrix depends on his <em>psionic potential</em>. And training. Lots of training. Some psions train as much as competitive athletes, just to reach their full potential.</p> <p>Telepathy is the prime example of psionic activity. A psion manipulates fields so that they can intersect their own field with another individual's matrix, granting the telepath access to another person's mind. However, a distinction must here be made between <em>communicative telepathy</em> and <em>controlling telepathy</em>. With the former, only information is exchanged, while with the latter, the psion can rewrite thoughts, that is, exercise mind control. Please note that communicative psions and controlling psions are two <span style="text-decoration: underline;">different</span> types of psion. While both access psionic matrices, they do fundamentally different things there; communicatives read data and bring in new information, while controllers rewrite data. Although there can be overlap, both phenomena occur independently of each other.</p> <p>Incidentally, fields that connect a matrix to something else are called <em>psionic currents</em>. Please note this term - I will use it more often later.</p> <p>However, as you are no doubt aware, mind readers and controllers are not the only psions; clairvoyants, precognitives and telekinetics are too. Of course, that seems a bit odd, since none of you really work with thoughts.</p> <p>So let me explain these phenomena. Precognitives, that is, psions who can see into the future, are the simplest here: we have no idea. Other parasciences, such as <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/goc-supplemental-qandq">thaumatology</a> or theology can explain their predictions of the future, but not psionics. Unfortunate, but true. But if you happen to find out how precognitive psionics works, let me know. The prize money is nothing to turn your nose up at.</p> <p>Clairvoyance, on the other hand, is somewhat better understood; but we must first talk about <em>attention</em>. You see, when you perceive something, you radiate it out. Yes, your mere perception leaves behind psionic energy! So cut out your eyes and stop anomalously contaminating your environment!</p> <p>Only joking, please don't do that. But the "radiation" thing is still true: As soon as you perceive something, you leave psionic residue behind. A precise explanation is too complex to put into layman's terms for you, but let's just say that by perceiving something, you leave behind faint amounts of psionic energy associated with the perceived object. The energy, which logically also has an equally weak field, contains the relevant information regarding what was perceived. However, if this information is already present, it will only be amplified.</p> <p>As you might be guessing by now, clairvoyants can easily access and read these residues. Just like telepaths read minds.</p> <p>That leaves us with telekinetics: anomalies that can move objects through their minds. Well, they work similarly to attention-deficit psychics. Except that they don't read the residues on an object, but generate a <em>telekinetic effect</em>. Without boring you with a complex conversation about calculations and the necessary energy expenditure, at the interface with its target the field is converted into kinetic energy. To explain this with an example: let's say a psion wants to levitate a chair. To do this, he forms a psionic current that connects to the underside of the chair. A telekinetic effect occurs, and the chair is lifted.</p> <p>You may have heard of pyrokinetics, psychic individuals who can generate heat. They're telekinetics too. Telekinetics, who don't work kinetic energy, but thermal energy; a pyrokinetic effect. While these are rare, each type of energy has at least one telekinetic who can generate it.</p> <p>So these were the different types of psionics. Of course there are also mixed forms; Telepaths who can both communicate and control mentally, or precognitive clairvoyants. By the way, the most common combination is communicative telepathy and clairvoyance.</p> <hr/> <p>However, I would like to inform you at this point that there will be a short break. Go to the bathroom and get something to drink. After that, I'll talk about units of measure, engineering, history, and how to deal with little psychic shitheads.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><a href="/psi-guide-2">Part 2</a> →</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/psi-guide-1">A Lecture on Psionics, Part 1</a>" by Allnyta, translated by Jerden, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/psi-guide-1">https://scpwiki.com/psi-guide-1</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a> ]] Article: A Lecture on Psionics, Part 1 Original Article: [http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/psi-guide-1 Ein Vortrag über Psionik, Teil 1] Author: [[user Allnyta]] Translator:* [[user Jerden]] Shoutout to [[user DrClef]] and his [https://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/goc-supplemental-thaumatology Thaumatology Guide]]], its style inspired this guide here. [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] @@@@ Hello? Hello!? Can I have your attention please! Well then, good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the basic lecture on psionics. My name is Doctor Reuht, I am a senior scientist in the Psionics Department here at Site-DE4. As you should know from the title of this talk, today will give you a general overview of the parascience of psionics. But first, what is psionics anyway? How is it defined? It's actually pretty well defined. Psionics is the study, and also the application, of supernatural phenomena generated solely from the power of one's mind. Psionics is its own field, separate from reality bending or similar practices. Before we can move on, we must first define what a thought is. Of course, there are neural processes in the brain that process information and store it in connections between nerve cells. But that's not the full story. Thoughts exist as entities in their own right. Every image, every word, every memory, everything that goes through your mind... literally goes through your mind. You see, information always exists in two forms: the physical and the psionic. The physical is what I just described: neural processes, for example. The psionic... Well, it's made up of an anomalous form of energy that we call //psionic energy//. Imaginitive, I know. Psionic energy creates fields. Psionic fields. Similar to how an electric current generates a magnetic field, or how mass produces gravitation. The field also contains the information of the associated thought. The strength of this energy, and therefore the strength of the field as well, depends on two factors: How much information a thought contains, and how much the brain processes it. So, if you think about something a lot or you have a thought that is important to you, it also has more energy. Your wedding is more relevant than what you had for lunch two weeks ago, for example. In your mind, naturally, these fields overlap. Such complex combinations of different fields are referred to as //psionic matrix//, and to put it in simple terms, they can also be regarded as one large field. And yes, every one of you has a matrix like this. Everyone! ---- Anyway, this is where psions come into the picture. A psionicaly gifted person is able to sense and manipulate psionic fields, and therefore also psionic energy. The amount of energy a person can mobilise and generate from his own matrix depends on his //psionic potential//. And training. Lots of training. Some psions train as much as competitive athletes, just to reach their full potential. Telepathy is the prime example of psionic activity. A psion manipulates fields so that they can intersect their own field with another individual's matrix, granting the telepath access to another person's mind. However, a distinction must here be made between //communicative telepathy// and //controlling telepathy//. With the former, only information is exchanged, while with the latter, the psion can rewrite thoughts, that is, exercise mind control. Please note that communicative psions and controlling psions are two __different__ types of psion. While both access psionic matrices, they do fundamentally different things there; communicatives read data and bring in new information, while controllers rewrite data. Although there can be overlap, both phenomena occur independently of each other. Incidentally, fields that connect a matrix to something else are called //psionic currents//. Please note this term - I will use it more often later. However, as you are no doubt aware, mind readers and controllers are not the only psions; clairvoyants, precognitives and telekinetics are too. Of course, that seems a bit odd, since none of you really work with thoughts. So let me explain these phenomena. Precognitives, that is, psions who can see into the future, are the simplest here: we have no idea. Other parasciences, such as [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/goc-supplemental-qandq thaumatology] or theology can explain their predictions of the future, but not psionics. Unfortunate, but true. But if you happen to find out how precognitive psionics works, let me know. The prize money is nothing to turn your nose up at. Clairvoyance, on the other hand, is somewhat better understood; but we must first talk about //attention//. You see, when you perceive something, you radiate it out. Yes, your mere perception leaves behind psionic energy! So cut out your eyes and stop anomalously contaminating your environment! Only joking, please don't do that. But the "radiation" thing is still true: As soon as you perceive something, you leave psionic residue behind. A precise explanation is too complex to put into layman's terms for you, but let's just say that by perceiving something, you leave behind faint amounts of psionic energy associated with the perceived object. The energy, which logically also has an equally weak field, contains the relevant information regarding what was perceived. However, if this information is already present, it will only be amplified. As you might be guessing by now, clairvoyants can easily access and read these residues. Just like telepaths read minds. That leaves us with telekinetics: anomalies that can move objects through their minds. Well, they work similarly to attention-deficit psychics. Except that they don't read the residues on an object, but generate a //telekinetic effect//. Without boring you with a complex conversation about calculations and the necessary energy expenditure, at the interface with its target the field is converted into kinetic energy. To explain this with an example: let's say a psion wants to levitate a chair. To do this, he forms a psionic current that connects to the underside of the chair. A telekinetic effect occurs, and the chair is lifted. You may have heard of pyrokinetics, psychic individuals who can generate heat. They're telekinetics too. Telekinetics, who don't work kinetic energy, but thermal energy; a pyrokinetic effect. While these are rare, each type of energy has at least one telekinetic who can generate it. So these were the different types of psionics. Of course there are also mixed forms; Telepaths who can both communicate and control mentally, or precognitive clairvoyants. By the way, the most common combination is communicative telepathy and clairvoyance. ---- However, I would like to inform you at this point that there will be a short break. Go to the bathroom and get something to drink. After that, I'll talk about units of measure, engineering, history, and how to deal with little psychic shitheads. ---- ---- [[=]] [[[psi-guide-2\|Part 2]]] → [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Allnyta, translated by Jerden]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-26T05:52:00	[ "_de", "_licensebox", "international", "science-fiction", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	A Lecture on Psionics, Part 1 - SCP Foundation	19	[ "goc-supplemental-qandq", "psi-guide-2", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "lorecon2023", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447895484	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/psi-guide-1
psi-guide-2	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Article:</strong> A Lecture on Psionics, Part 2<br/> <strong>Original Article:</strong> <a href="http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/psi-guide-2">Ein Vortrag über Psionik, Teil 2</a><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/allnyta" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6882700); return false;"><img alt="Allnyta" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6882700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725532676" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6882700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/allnyta" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6882700); return false;">Allnyta</a></span><br/> <strong>Translator:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;"><img alt="Jerden" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1637608&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725532676" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1637608)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jerden" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1637608); return false;">Jerden</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Are we finished? Yes? Good, then welcome back, ladies and gentlemen!</p> <p>Now that we know about the basics of psionics, we can talk about units. In the case of psionic energy, that would be the "<em>White</em>", abbreviated as a small omega. A White is the minimum amount of psionic energy needed to telepathically carry a brief conversation over a distance of one meter, for example.</p> <p>And if you would direct your <em>attention</em> to the item in my hand here, you can see a <em>White Detector</em>; a gauge of psionic fields and energy. This little gray box is one of the most used items in the psionics department, by far.</p> <p>[…]</p> <p>A good question, "How does it work?"! But please, don't interrupt me.</p> <p>So, as I told you before, psionic energy comes from information…<br/> But is it only generated by the brain? Well, no, machines can create it too. Or, to be more precise, electronic memory, as in computers. Of course, the psionic matrices that emanate from them are much weaker and also somewhat oddly constructed, which is why many psions have trouble establishing stable contact with machines, or even being able to precisely locate their fields.</p> <p>Anyway, the White Detector was invented by the Canadian doctor Charles White. Doctor White was born in 1832, studied electrodynamics at the University of Toronto, and was largely financially dependent on his wealthy brother-in-law, an entrepreneur, but only on the side. The important thing is that Dr. White was very interested in spiritualism and similar occult practices, and that he discovered his own telepathic powers in mid-1881. The doctor then began to experiment with these forces, and developed the White Detector in 1882. Or at least a prototype for it.</p> <p>Doctor White's detector was really just a telegraph with a coiled cable that could feed a message into itself through a relay-based system. Normally, the detector only sent itself a constant SOS message.</p> <p>The trick to getting a reading, however, was that a psion, Dr. White in this case, has mentally focused on the coiled cable, and thus inadvertently altered the transmission through psionics. This was of course very crude and by no means accurate, especially since a telegraph loop generates a microscopically weak field.</p> <p>But, and this was important, the detector could still detect an anomaly in its message; logically not anything meaningful, it wasn't a new message in Morse code, at best it would be gibberish. However, from the magnitude of this deviation, the approximate field strength could be estimated.</p> <p>White then began to further improve his detector, giving it the ability to reset itself automatically after a fluctuation, while simultaneously developing a measurement scale.</p> <p>The "White" unit was born in the winter of 1883, with 100 ω being the psionic energy that Dr. White considered necessary for a conversation at a distance of 100 meters, and 1 ω as one hundredth of that. On a technical level the White is more precisely defined and calculable, but that's a bit beyond the scope of a fundamentals seminar like this one.</p> <p>Doctor White then considered himself ready to share his findings with the world, and planned a presentation at the University of Toronto. A presentation that would have added psionic phenomena to the scientific consensus.</p> <p>But, as you can probably imagine, that presentation never happened. We, the then still young Foundation, had been keeping a close eye on Dr. Whit, and since telepathic powers were considered anomalous, we detained him and confiscated his research.</p> <p>What followed… well, was a less glorious part of Foundation history. You see, White's detector was revolutionary in that it could measure psychic phenomena; something that hadn't previously been possible. The only problem was that psions had to willfully target a detector for their their powers to be measured.</p> <p>However, the Foundation already had a solution to this problem: A few years earlier we had come across a couple of notes on alchemical formulae, which described, amongst other things, an alloy that forced psychics to focus on it for a brief moment. In practice, this alloy initiated a psionic connection to its core, but at the time that was not known.</p> <p>I think you understand where this is going: we combined this focusing alloy with White's detector, to create a way for us to quantify certain anomalous phenomena.</p> <p>The applications were… well, not very pretty though. At that point in time, there was no method of dampening or disrupting psionic phenomena. What we did instead was break the concentration of psions. Using electrical shocks…</p> <p>The system was called "Psionic Defense": Two diodes, one on each temple, connected to a strong battery and a White Detector - which at the time were about the size of a bedside table, by the way. When the detector measured a change in the local psionic fields, it triggered an electric shock. However, the problem was that some psions project fields without deeper content, for example when they imagine something strong or fall asleep.</p> <p>Naturally, we also tested better methods at the time, such as drugs; but they never reached the efficiency of Psionic Defense, or came with unwanted side effects.</p> <p>But what psionic defense enabled us to achieve was the mass containment of psions, particularly in the settlements of the <a class="newpage" href="/ein-schicksalhafter-tag">Damned</a> in North America, which could be disbanded.</p> <p>Damned, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, are a demonic human subspecies that originated in southern Germany. All of them are telepaths and clairvoyants, and they also have claws.</p> <hr/> <p>In the years that followed not much changed in the field of psionics, except perhaps that we continued to improve the White Detector, particularly because psions noticed the measurement less often due to an improved focus. The invention of the vacuum tube also made its measurements more precise.</p> <p><a href="/goc-supplemental-thaumatology">Unified Thaumatology</a>, <a href="/operation-llewyn-dark">Memetic and Geas Technology</a> and <a href="/a-brief-explanation-on-demonics">Demonics</a>…</p> <p>No, wait a minute, demons were discovered by Tesla in the 1870s… But back then, it was still mechanical…</p> <p>Sorry, demons evolved.<br/> But what I wanted to say was that some other parasciences have emerged in the meantime.</p> <p>Psionics was therefore largely overshadowed for the next few years. Although Dr. White's findings eventually diffused out into anomalous society, little progress was made.<br/> It actually took World War II, or more accurately, the Seventh Occult War, to revitalise this science. The Soviet government at the time wanted to raise their own abnormal forces, but viewed the British-German thaumatology of the time as too ideologically suspect. Also, there was a great opportunity for them to show the superiority of their socialist system by taking the lead in a parascience.</p> <p>The GRU Division "P" was actually able to train a small number of psions and use them in combat. But what is much more relevant was their research: the Division developed many of the training and educational methods still used today, discovered the mode of action for clairvoyance, and created the basis for the use of psionics in paratechnology - also known as "psychotronics", which is what that "P" in their name is short for.</p> <p>After the German surrender, however, the UNGOC was formed, which included most of the European Damned, who, as previously mentioned, are all psions, and the ICSUT, a university association for thaumatology. The two began to cooperate more closely shortly after, and many ICSUT universities began offering psionics as a major.</p> <p>Of course, this lead to competition with the GRU-P, which was also engaged in a struggle with the USA's PENTAGRAM and UIU as a result of the Cold War. In fact, those two were less interested in using psionics, and more interested in countering them.</p> <p>Anyway, while in 1952 the Soviets created the <em>Psychotronic Amplifier</em>, a device capable of amplifying psionic powers, in 1958 the Americans developed <em>Psychic Isolation</em>, an alchemical material capable of deflecting weak psionics on a very small scale - and in 1961 ICSUT Munich built the <em>Psionic Dampener</em>.</p> <p>The last two inventions are particularly important: Psychic Isolators were the first means of preventing psionic connections. Unfortunately, however, they cannot block stronger psionic powers, but are suitable for temporarily protecting individual documents, or protecting buildings from accidental clairvoyance.<br/> Psionic Dampeners, on the other hand, were probably the most important invention in psionics since the White Detector.</p> <p>Dampeners are based on artificial psionic currents that connect to surrounding currents and overload them with extraneous data. I can't tell you the exact setup due to operational security, but dampeners contain some anomalous materials and a computer hooked up to a random number generator, among other things.<br/> Psions under the influence of a dampener basically just get noise played into their minds. The only problem with dampers is that they simply can't do anything after a certain field strength; psions that are too strong can break dampeners.</p> <p>Still, the Foundation introduced Dampener technology as quickly as possible, logically superseding Psionic Defense almost entirely.</p> <p>However, during the '80s, Soviet leadership in psionics was completely overtaken as the Eurtec Freeport took off. In short, Eurtec is a pocket dimension and city, founded by the Servants of the Silicon Nornir, a member of the GOC, to allow companies to develop and research paratech in peace.<br/> For example, the Servants provided the <em>Psionic Disruptor</em>, which has made Psionic Defense completely obsolete.</p> <p>Disruptors, while very expensive and large, can also fend off stronger psions by actively connecting to the currents of psions and distorting them, i.e. by manipulating expansion, energy density, et cetera. Psions under the influence of disruptors are quite uncomfortable, as their minds are literally shaken whenever they attempt to transmit.</p> <p>However, for security reasons, I also want to note that a trained psion can also outwit a disruptor. These machines reduce the general risk, they do not eliminate it.</p> <p>But back to the history of psionics: the GRU-P eventually went down with the USSR, not only ending the paranormal arms race but also flooding the black market with their technology. A few years later, Prometheus Laboratories, the world's largest paratech corporation, went bankrupt, crashing the American para-economy.</p> <p>And, well, that actually brings us to today. Don't get me wrong, there has been, and still is, more research into psionics, but these were the "basics", the thing you must know.</p> <p>But to showcase modern developments, here is my White Detector:</p> <p>The measurement is done on a microchip that sits in a wafer-thin metal capsule - the focus - and psions can hardly notice that they are being measured. The reading is automatically calculated from the data change and, well, it all fits in the palm of my hand.</p> <hr/> <p>But to continue with this lecture -</p> <p>Please, one moment… I need… Wait a minute…</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>← <a href="/psi-guide-1">Part 1</a> • <a class="newpage" href="/psi-guide-3">Part 3</a> →</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/psi-guide-2">A Lecture on Psionics, Part 2</a>" by Allnyta, translated by Jerden, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/psi-guide-2">https://scpwiki.com/psi-guide-2</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a> ]] Article: A Lecture on Psionics, Part 2 Original Article: [http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/psi-guide-2 Ein Vortrag über Psionik, Teil 2] Author: [[user Allnyta]] Translator:* [[*user Jerden]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] Are we finished? Yes? Good, then welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! Now that we know about the basics of psionics, we can talk about units. In the case of psionic energy, that would be the "//White//", abbreviated as a small omega. A White is the minimum amount of psionic energy needed to telepathically carry a brief conversation over a distance of one meter, for example. And if you would direct your //attention// to the item in my hand here, you can see a //White Detector//; a gauge of psionic fields and energy. This little gray box is one of the most used items in the psionics department, by far. [...] A good question, "How does it work?"! But please, don't interrupt me. So, as I told you before, psionic energy comes from information... But is it only generated by the brain? Well, no, machines can create it too. Or, to be more precise, electronic memory, as in computers. Of course, the psionic matrices that emanate from them are much weaker and also somewhat oddly constructed, which is why many psions have trouble establishing stable contact with machines, or even being able to precisely locate their fields. Anyway, the White Detector was invented by the Canadian doctor Charles White. Doctor White was born in 1832, studied electrodynamics at the University of Toronto, and was largely financially dependent on his wealthy brother-in-law, an entrepreneur, but only on the side. The important thing is that Dr. White was very interested in spiritualism and similar occult practices, and that he discovered his own telepathic powers in mid-1881. The doctor then began to experiment with these forces, and developed the White Detector in 1882. Or at least a prototype for it. Doctor White's detector was really just a telegraph with a coiled cable that could feed a message into itself through a relay-based system. Normally, the detector only sent itself a constant SOS message. The trick to getting a reading, however, was that a psion, Dr. White in this case, has mentally focused on the coiled cable, and thus inadvertently altered the transmission through psionics. This was of course very crude and by no means accurate, especially since a telegraph loop generates a microscopically weak field. But, and this was important, the detector could still detect an anomaly in its message; logically not anything meaningful, it wasn't a new message in Morse code, at best it would be gibberish. However, from the magnitude of this deviation, the approximate field strength could be estimated. White then began to further improve his detector, giving it the ability to reset itself automatically after a fluctuation, while simultaneously developing a measurement scale. The "White" unit was born in the winter of 1883, with 100 ω being the psionic energy that Dr. White considered necessary for a conversation at a distance of 100 meters, and 1 ω as one hundredth of that. On a technical level the White is more precisely defined and calculable, but that's a bit beyond the scope of a fundamentals seminar like this one. Doctor White then considered himself ready to share his findings with the world, and planned a presentation at the University of Toronto. A presentation that would have added psionic phenomena to the scientific consensus. But, as you can probably imagine, that presentation never happened. We, the then still young Foundation, had been keeping a close eye on Dr. Whit, and since telepathic powers were considered anomalous, we detained him and confiscated his research. What followed... well, was a less glorious part of Foundation history. You see, White's detector was revolutionary in that it could measure psychic phenomena; something that hadn't previously been possible. The only problem was that psions had to willfully target a detector for their their powers to be measured. However, the Foundation already had a solution to this problem: A few years earlier we had come across a couple of notes on alchemical formulae, which described, amongst other things, an alloy that forced psychics to focus on it for a brief moment. In practice, this alloy initiated a psionic connection to its core, but at the time that was not known. I think you understand where this is going: we combined this focusing alloy with White's detector, to create a way for us to quantify certain anomalous phenomena. The applications were... well, not very pretty though. At that point in time, there was no method of dampening or disrupting psionic phenomena. What we did instead was break the concentration of psions. Using electrical shocks... The system was called "Psionic Defense": Two diodes, one on each temple, connected to a strong battery and a White Detector - which at the time were about the size of a bedside table, by the way. When the detector measured a change in the local psionic fields, it triggered an electric shock. However, the problem was that some psions project fields without deeper content, for example when they imagine something strong or fall asleep. Naturally, we also tested better methods at the time, such as drugs; but they never reached the efficiency of Psionic Defense, or came with unwanted side effects. But what psionic defense enabled us to achieve was the mass containment of psions, particularly in the settlements of the [[[ein-schicksalhafter-tag\| Damned]]] in North America, which could be disbanded. Damned, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, are a demonic human subspecies that originated in southern Germany. All of them are telepaths and clairvoyants, and they also have claws. ---- In the years that followed not much changed in the field of psionics, except perhaps that we continued to improve the White Detector, particularly because psions noticed the measurement less often due to an improved focus. The invention of the vacuum tube also made its measurements more precise. [[[goc-supplemental-thaumatology\|Unified Thaumatology]]], [[[operation-llewyn-dark\|Memetic and Geas Technology]]] and [[[a-brief-explanation-on-demonics\|Demonics]]]... No, wait a minute, demons were discovered by Tesla in the 1870s... But back then, it was still mechanical... Sorry, demons evolved. But what I wanted to say was that some other parasciences have emerged in the meantime. Psionics was therefore largely overshadowed for the next few years. Although Dr. White's findings eventually diffused out into anomalous society, little progress was made. It actually took World War II, or more accurately, the Seventh Occult War, to revitalise this science. The Soviet government at the time wanted to raise their own abnormal forces, but viewed the British-German thaumatology of the time as too ideologically suspect. Also, there was a great opportunity for them to show the superiority of their socialist system by taking the lead in a parascience. The GRU Division "P" was actually able to train a small number of psions and use them in combat. But what is much more relevant was their research: the Division developed many of the training and educational methods still used today, discovered the mode of action for clairvoyance, and created the basis for the use of psionics in paratechnology - also known as "psychotronics", which is what that "P" in their name is short for. After the German surrender, however, the UNGOC was formed, which included most of the European Damned, who, as previously mentioned, are all psions, and the ICSUT, a university association for thaumatology. The two began to cooperate more closely shortly after, and many ICSUT universities began offering psionics as a major. Of course, this lead to competition with the GRU-P, which was also engaged in a struggle with the USA's PENTAGRAM and UIU as a result of the Cold War. In fact, those two were less interested in using psionics, and more interested in countering them. Anyway, while in 1952 the Soviets created the //Psychotronic Amplifier//, a device capable of amplifying psionic powers, in 1958 the Americans developed //Psychic Isolation//, an alchemical material capable of deflecting weak psionics on a very small scale - and in 1961 ICSUT Munich built the //Psionic Dampener//. The last two inventions are particularly important: Psychic Isolators were the first means of preventing psionic connections. Unfortunately, however, they cannot block stronger psionic powers, but are suitable for temporarily protecting individual documents, or protecting buildings from accidental clairvoyance. Psionic Dampeners, on the other hand, were probably the most important invention in psionics since the White Detector. Dampeners are based on artificial psionic currents that connect to surrounding currents and overload them with extraneous data. I can't tell you the exact setup due to operational security, but dampeners contain some anomalous materials and a computer hooked up to a random number generator, among other things. Psions under the influence of a dampener basically just get noise played into their minds. The only problem with dampers is that they simply can't do anything after a certain field strength; psions that are too strong can break dampeners. Still, the Foundation introduced Dampener technology as quickly as possible, logically superseding Psionic Defense almost entirely. However, during the '80s, Soviet leadership in psionics was completely overtaken as the Eurtec Freeport took off. In short, Eurtec is a pocket dimension and city, founded by the Servants of the Silicon Nornir, a member of the GOC, to allow companies to develop and research paratech in peace. For example, the Servants provided the //Psionic Disruptor//, which has made Psionic Defense completely obsolete. Disruptors, while very expensive and large, can also fend off stronger psions by actively connecting to the currents of psions and distorting them, i.e. by manipulating expansion, energy density, et cetera. Psions under the influence of disruptors are quite uncomfortable, as their minds are literally shaken whenever they attempt to transmit. However, for security reasons, I also want to note that a trained psion can also outwit a disruptor. These machines reduce the general risk, they do not eliminate it. But back to the history of psionics: the GRU-P eventually went down with the USSR, not only ending the paranormal arms race but also flooding the black market with their technology. A few years later, Prometheus Laboratories, the world's largest paratech corporation, went bankrupt, crashing the American para-economy. And, well, that actually brings us to today. Don't get me wrong, there has been, and still is, more research into psionics, but these were the "basics", the thing you must know. But to showcase modern developments, here is my White Detector: The measurement is done on a microchip that sits in a wafer-thin metal capsule - the focus - and psions can hardly notice that they are being measured. The reading is automatically calculated from the data change and, well, it all fits in the palm of my hand. ---- But to continue with this lecture - Please, one moment... I need... Wait a minute... ---- ---- [[=]] ← [[[psi-guide-1\|Part 1]]] • [[[psi-guide-3\|Part 3]]] → [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Allnyta, translated by Jerden]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-26T05:56:00	[ "_de", "_licensebox", "international", "science-fiction", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	A Lecture on Psionics, Part 2 - SCP Foundation	14	[ "ein-schicksalhafter-tag", "goc-supplemental-thaumatology", "operation-llewyn-dark", "a-brief-explanation-on-demonics", "psi-guide-1", "psi-guide-3", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447895538	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/psi-guide-2
pursuing-ghosts-part-1	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>This place has the Freedom that eludes Life and Death: Freedom unclothed, shivering in the cold; Freedom untethered, slipping from your grasp; Freedom unbound, escaping your control.</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Pursuing Ghosts, Part I</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">Byㅤ</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645384" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1676399733 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">14 Feb 2023 18:35</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> </div> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <div class="blockquote lightweight"> <p><strong>Pursuing Ghosts, Part I</strong><br/> <span class="bt bb">By</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043739" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span><br/> <strong>Published on 14 Feb 2023</strong></p> <hr/> <div class="centered"> <p>This article is part of the forthcoming<br/> <strong>Weaving Imperceptible Threads Continuity Hub</strong>.</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="tablerig"> <h3><span>Other Works by Lt Flops!</span></h3> <hr/> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">SCP Articles</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4420">SCP-4420</a></td> <td>+273</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4416">SCP-4416</a></td> <td>+209</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4790">SCP-4790</a></td> <td>+186</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3570">EE-3570</a></td> <td>+186</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4031">SCP-4031</a></td> <td>+168</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5990">SCP-5990</a></td> <td>+149</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3787">SCP-3787</a></td> <td>+136</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5810">SCP-5810</a></td> <td>+135</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3464">SCP-3464</a></td> <td>+130</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4190">SCP-4190</a></td> <td>+106</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3719">SCP-3719</a></td> <td>+91</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6327">SCP-6327</a></td> <td>+78</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7723">SCP-7723</a></td> <td>+61</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Tales</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-2">SCP-2</a></td> <td>+193</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-abyss-gazes-back">The Abyss Gazes Back (and It's ASCII on a CRT Screen)</a></td> <td>+118</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-doctor-s-dilemma">The Doctor's Dilemma</a></td> <td>+93</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/fifthist-family-picnic">fifthist family picnic</a></td> <td>+88</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/umbral-migratory-sequence">UMBRAL_MIGRATORY_SEQUENCE.txt</a></td> <td>+88</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/buggy-hardware">Buggy Hardware (or Why I Don't Play Violent Video Games)</a></td> <td>+85</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/what-lurks">What Lurks in the Dark?</a></td> <td>+76</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/no-sense-crying">Spilled Milk</a></td> <td>+73</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-scene-from-a-meme">A Scene From a Meme(-ory)</a></td> <td>+73</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/illac">Illac</a></td> <td>+70</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/crispy-sex-pirates">A Surprise Encounter with Crispy Sex Pirates</a></td> <td>+63</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/inner-space">INNER-SPACE</a></td> <td>+54</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-necromantic-prelude">A Necromantic Prelude</a></td> <td>+36</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/an-old-familiar-dream">A Prologue: An Old, Familiar Dream</a></td> <td>+29</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/pursuing-ghosts-part-1">Pursuing Ghosts, Part I</a></td> <td>+28</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/solidao">Solidão</a></td> <td>+27</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider">Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</a></td> <td>+25</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/pursuing-ghosts-part-2">Pursuing Ghosts, Part II</a></td> <td>+15</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">GOI Formats</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-993">SPC-993: BOBBLE THE CLOWN SHARK</a></td> <td>+141</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-507">SPC-507: EAGER NETHERENDER</a></td> <td>+120</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/saturn-s-corner">SATURN'S CORNER</a></td> <td>+106</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scattersomnia">"Scattersomnia": A Disease of the Wise and Drowsy Wanderers</a></td> <td>+104</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Hubs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/void-dancer-hub">Void Dancer Hub</a></td> <td>+111</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">CSS Themes</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:pataphysics">'Pataphysics Department Theme</a></td> <td>+133</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:classic">Classic SCP Foundation Theme</a></td> <td>+123</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:flopstyle-dark">Flopstyle: DARK</a></td> <td>+107</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:flopstyle">Flopstyle: LITE</a></td> <td>+83</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:pack-of-peanuts">Pack Of Peanuts Theme</a></td> <td>+52</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:anon">Parawatch Anon Theme</a></td> <td>+48</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:saphir">SAPPHIRE Theme Redux</a></td> <td>+44</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:sapphire">SAPPHIRE Theme</a></td> <td>+23</td> </tr> </table> </div> <h3><span>Collaborations</span></h3> <hr/> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored SCP Articles</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-3309">SCP-3309</a> - Where We Go When We Fade, Fade Away</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/phamtomguy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7630719); return false;">PhamtomGuy</a></span></td> <td>+1173</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-3739">SCP-3739</a> - <span style="color: hsl(214, 95%, 24%)">Mind-Milk™ by Moosphere, Inc.</span></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+285</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">SCP-4428</span> <a href="/scp-4428">Dr. Michaels</a> - <span class="lie">Dr. Michaels is not in danger.</span></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/henzoids-author-page" target="_blank">Henzoid</a></td> <td>+480</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-4475">SCP-4475</a> - So Long, and Thanks for All the Milk</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+176</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-4519">SCP-4519</a> - Carl Sagan, Godhead</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/natalie-watts" target="_blank">NatVoltaic</a></td> <td>+175</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-4795">SCP-4795</a> - Feathered F(r)iends</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/dr-mews-personnel-file" target="_blank">Mew-ltiverse</a></td> <td>+125</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6447">SCP-6447</a> - Sinners' Symphony</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/elunerazim" target="_blank">Elunerazim</a> & Others</td> <td>+54</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6481">SCP-6481</a> - Nipple Centipedes</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/ellie3-gimmick-free" target="_blank">Ellie3</a></td> <td>+107</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6705">SCP-6705</a> - The Bicameral Milk</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/lord-stonefish" target="_blank">LordStonefish</a></td> <td>+87</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6830">SCP-6830</a> - Oops! All Atens!</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/ariadnes-malibu-dream-house" target="_blank">AriadnesThread</a></td> <td>+93</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-7010">SCP-7010</a> - We Will Endure</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/stormbreath" target="_blank">Stormbreath</a></td> <td>+161</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored Tales</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/avian-anthology-i">Avian Anthology I</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/bird" target="_blank">Team Bird</a></td> <td>+76</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/avian-anthology-ii">Avian Anthology II</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/bird" target="_blank">Team Bird</a></td> <td>+94</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/land-of-honey">Land Of Honey</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+111</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/broken-masquerade-epistolary">Snippets of an Unveiled World</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/researcher-nyka-s-file" target="_blank">Nykacolaquantum</a> & Others</td> <td>+299</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored GOI Formats</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/the-sacred-djehuti">The Sacred Djehuti</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/ayers-array" target="_blank">Ayers</a></td> <td>+134</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/grant-request-post-mortem-neural-preservation">GRANT REQUEST FOR THE RE-CREATION OF AN ADVANCED POSTMORTEM NEURAL PRESERVATION SYSTEM</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/uncle-nicolini-author-page" target="_blank">Uncle Nicolini</a></td> <td>+61</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/critter-profile-bartholomew">Critter Profile: Bartholomew!</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+137</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored Hubs</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/bird">Team Bird Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/notgull" target="_blank">notgull</a></td> <td>+244</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/non-prophet-organization-hub">A Non-Prophet Organization Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/uncle-nicolini-author-page" target="_blank">Uncle Nicolini</a></td> <td>+115</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/i-hub">I, Hub (April Fools)</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/elenee-s-author-page" target="_blank">Elenee FishTruck</a> & Others</td> <td>+100</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/spc-hub">SPC Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/peppersghost" target="_blank">PeppersGhost</a>, <a href="/wrong-analytics" target="_blank">MrWrong</a>, & <a href="/lordxvnv" target="_blank">LORDXVNV</a></td> <td>+181</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/milk-hub">Milk Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/lordxvnv" target="_blank">LORDXVNV</a></td> <td>+82</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Other Co-Authored Pages</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/departments-complete-list">A Semi-Comprehensive List of Foundation Departments</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/top" target="_blank">TopDownUnder</a> & <a href="/dr-moned-s-temporal-pocket-universe" target="_blank">Dr Moned</a></td> <td>+237</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <h3><span>Wanderers' Library Entries</span></h3> <hr/> <div class="wanlib"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Page</th> <th>Page Info</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/lampyra-the-watcher" target="_blank">Lampyra, the Watcher</a></td> <td>Wanderers' Library Author Page</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/cave-story" target="_blank">Cave Story</a></td> <td>2020 Wanderers' Depths Contest, First Place</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/interplanetary-colonization" target="_blank">Interplanetary Colonization</a></td> <td>2021 Scavenger Hunt Contest</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/take-you-to-the-parashops" target="_blank">I'll Take You to the Parashops</a></td> <td>2021 Scavenger Hunt Contest</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/talk-of-the-town" target="_blank">Talk of the Town</a></td> <td><em>Last Light</em> Canon</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/the-foolish-one" target="_blank">The Foolish One</a></td> <td>2021 WanderCon</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/pursuing-ghosts-part-1/html/423e4bca147c32519fafc4b0daf7a6fbd01951ec-81088472354326670"></iframe></p> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="/floppyphoenix">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="byline"> <p><span style="display:none">.</span><br/> <span>13</span></p> </div> <div class="lite-heading extra-wide"> <hr/> <h1 id="toc0"><span>THE LOST GLADE</span></h1> <hr/></div> <div class="meta-title"> <p>Pursuing Ghosts<br/> <span class="i">PART I</span></p> </div> <div class="pseudocrumbs"> <p><sub><span class="tb">BUT FIRST</span></sub><br/> <strong><a href="/an-old-familiar-dream">A Prologue: An Old, Familiar Dream</a></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="journal spec_2"> <p>I ran away from home. I told myself that it wouldn’t be easy; that staying would be twice as tough.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Where am I now? I couldn’t say. I might call this place “Freedom”, and myself “Queen”. And what is Freedom if not a place? But those words taste bitter when I speak.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Freedom is a liminal territory that exists behind closed eyelids. Confined there, Freedom has far-reaching proportions. It can tip the scales marked Life and Death. Freedom sits at each extreme, filling in each a similar role. In Life, we can toil away. In Death, we can become bone, someday fossil, one day dust. Both these are Freedom. But they are a false Freedom; like pinching a grain of sand on a vast waste and hoping it might amount to an ocean. If you could hold the contents of every desiccated waste on Earth in the palm of your hand, even still, you would never match a single molecule of water.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I’m in an immense place, but I’m stuck here. This place has the Freedom that eludes Life and Death: Freedom unclothed, shivering in the cold; Freedom untethered, slipping from your grasp; Freedom unbound, escaping your control.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Freedom — freed.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I might never touch the Glade in my dream.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> But with every destination, there is a journey.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span class="highlighter">Mine starts here.</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:200%;">✗<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="justified"> <h4><span>Monday, 22 April 2019</span></h4> <h5><span>5:45 a.m.</span></h5> <h1><span>East Selkirk</span></h1> <h2><span>Manitoba, Canada</span></h2> <hr/> <p>I stir in the all-encompassing shadows of pre-twilight. In a few groggy moments, my mental bearings come into focus: I’ve had the dream again. I shoot up, roll over, and swat at the vague impression of a drawer handle. The spiral-bound notebook with my dream journal lies in wait.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I pen the last dream’s events in half-conscious chicken-scratches. My phone gives just enough light to make out loose arcs of lettering. I hope future-me appreciates the scribbles.</p> <p>Each entry inside this notebook has variations on the exact same dream. A dream I’ve dreamt four or five nights every week for the past year-and-a-half. It’s haunted me. During this ordeal, I’ve had the habit of flipping through pages and pinning down prevailing trends. There are false positives — when a drowsy mind fumbles the words that describe an experience, or simply misremembers — but everything else is much the same.</p> <p>Except, I’m not interested in broad strokes. I’m looking for variations. The tidbits, the wrinkles.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="centered"> <p>…<br/></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>My pen trails off the side of the page. I jolt back. A split-second later, a warning alarm blares in my hand like a stick of dynamite.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="text-container-wrap centered"> <div class="text-container"> <p><span class="alarm-clock">6:10 <span style="font-size:75%;">AM</span></span><br/></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>I bolt up from bed and get busy getting ready.</p> <p>Exam week. First of the week is at 8 o’clock sharp, and travel times are not in my favour.</p> <div class="baetyl"> <h4><span>Future Date Unknown</span></h4> <h1><span>Location Unknown</span></h1> <hr/> <p>There is, of course, a distinct difference between then and now.</p> <p>Now, instead of an alarm, the shifting substructure of a gargantuan tunnel network rouses me awake. An eerie sound creeps through — subterranean rock vibrating all across these caves. Their echoes recede for many minutes.</p> <p>Instead of chomping at the bit, hoping it will go away, I channel my focus inward. I take advantage of the headspace and write in my notebook. To play out the lonesome feeling; to get poetic. It’s a time-passer. One of few, considering I’ve long since shut my phone off to conserve battery. It’s not like I’ll get any signal.</p> <p>The immensity of this place is what drives its eerie atmosphere. There’s surely no interior structure this huge on the planet. It must give the Large Hadron Collider a run for its money. And, what’s more, there’s surely nothing like this in bumfuck nowhere, Manitoba. But I could be wrong.</p> <p>My first, best guess is that I’m inside a giant cave system. It makes too much sense. Geologists theorise that, during the last Ice Age, a massive glacier scraped across the entirety of Upper North America. Manitoba felt the biggest brunt. It’s the reason the Great Lakes formed; how Lakes Winnipeg and Winnipegosis came to be. It even explains why Manitoba seems shred to shit — like something pushed a moon-sized grater across the prairie, gouging holes in bedrock.</p> <p>That leaves the important question: How to escape?</p> <p>Navigating these tunnels becomes less an acute anxiety over time and more an insipid slog. Around every crook I imagine a Tolkien cave-troll bounding out and bellowing. Instead, my growling stomach interrupts the long silence. I spot the occasional jury-rigged stake lamp dotting the wall, each one a persistent dull orange; a shimmering orb; a possum’s eye in the dark. It’s the only sign that another human has passed through here. I can’t find any discernible power supply, but they light up the way, so I can’t complain.</p> <p>I hop a finger-thick crevice. A constellation of fireflies pours out, their squat bodies flashing in short, violet bursts. They lead, and I follow.<br/></p> </div> <h4><span>Tuesday, 23 April</span></h4> <h5><span>Midnight</span></h5> <h1><span>East Selkirk</span></h1> <h2><span>Manitoba, Canada</span></h2> <hr/> <p>Thoughts buzz inside my skull. Eager bees scurry after the day’s pollen. Everything else keeps still.</p> <p>A persistent recurring dream — and a lucid one, at that — seems all that glues my life together. It’s a source of regularity. Day has its constants: The monotony of studying; shovelling cooked sludge down my gullet; spring sprouting in the long shadow of winter; gender dysphoria.</p> <p>In the night, everything gives way to the dream. That weird, wild thing.</p> <p>You know, at first, I questioned whether it could even <em>be</em> something. If it was, <em>so what</em>? What I might rationalize as mere stress, I might just as easily be cured of after seeing a shrink, right? But I chose another option. I told myself that it was all in my head. That I’d be best served keeping it to myself. That no serious person would even take it straight-faced.</p> <p>These dreams, and the stretches of time when I felt plagued, became compounded, and when they fattened up, became monstrous. In my dreams, there was no longer simply a Glade. It became luscious, tantalizing. But it also hid unseemly fringes. It held an agent of malice — a Tormentor at its very centre — lurking just beyond reach. As it drew near, I became convinced that I was being called to struggle against it. Not simply to defeat it, but to <em>excise it</em>. To become that Glade’s saviour. To claim its otherworldly verdancy — for myself.</p> <p>As secrets often dance in their paradoxical rhythms, it became increasingly difficult to withstand two contradictory impulses:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="centered"> <p>No longer could I keep hiding this burden from others.</p> <p><em>And yet.</em></p> <p>I could no longer muster the strength to admit it.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>How would I break free from its hold?<br/></p> </div> <div class="baetyl"> <h4><span>Future Date Unknown</span></h4> <h1><span>Location Unknown</span></h1> <hr/> <p>Day Three. I found some sort of outpost. It’s a squat, rectangular structure built from long rows of sheet metal. Copper pipes and insulated wires hang from hooks. I spot a dark entrance, look both ways, and tiptoe inside.</p> <p>The foyer has its roof shorn off. The interior hall is one continuous path of grated floors that feeds a series of corrugated doors. I follow snaking pipes and wires to a large room at the back. The wiring leads into a wooden electrical box. I flick the switch. For a good few seconds, something buzzes to life.</p> <p>Suddenly, the hall glows brighter than the surface of the sun.</p> <p>Thankfully, it’s short-lived; a lone generator sputters in the centre of the room, hacking up a burst of black smoke. The hall settles on a faint wash of amber.</p> <p>“Anyone there?” Not having spoken for a few days now, I can only stutter. “Hullo? Could someone tell me where I am?”</p> <p>The only response is my own voice carrying back.</p> <p>I head to the first closed door and nudge it with my boot. It swings open effortlessly. The floor is plywood covered by a mottled tarp. I spot boxes and desks, loose papers and odd machine parts, quill pens and inkstands. There are chairs — though, I think I’d get skewered to death if I ever sat down, because <em>boy</em> they’re in rough shape. Everything feels closer to 1919 than 2019.</p> <p>The next room is much the same. The third room has a stepladder; the fourth, a wooden cabinet — not something you see everyday. I pull one of the handles…</p> <p>It doesn’t budge. “Right. There’s nothing worth <em>shit</em>.” I squeeze the side of a desk and kick the cabinet.</p> <p>My boot crashes clean through. The entire thing keels over and smashes to the floor, its contents splaying across the room, sounds of metal-on-metal reverberating underfoot. Whoever built this metal building also put together a cabinet with balsa wood.</p> <p>I wince, then look over the fallen cabinet.</p> <p>A single house centipede scurries into a hole in the wall.</p> <p>My eyes land on a stack of papers typeset with scientific notation. There are equations and inscriptions and strange symbology that looks like a calculus textbook had a three-way with the <em>I Ching</em> and <em>The Satanic Bible</em>.</p> <p>Crouching down, I meticulously flip through the contents of a shattered bottom drawer, salvaging whatever looks cool, and setting it aside.</p> <p>The middle drawer has a survey of the local tunnel system: One vellum sheet per section, “<strong>subdivided according to the predominant strata therein</strong>”. Whatever. I scour several dozen plans, then skip to the back. The plans wedged in there need a closer look. There — the unmistakable cross-section of a… Spinal column? The specs show junctures along each row of ribs, a half-kilometre abreast, each arranged to face “<strong>the spaces between spaces</strong>”.</p> <p>“… The fuck does that mean?”</p> <p>I amble back towards the foyer with my flashlight handy and point it straight up.</p> <p>Fifty metres above me, I discover precisely what those plans depict: The spinal column of a great Cosmic beast.</p> <p>Me, the outpost, and everything else — <em>inside it</em>.</p> <hr/> <p>In my newfound frenzy I strip apart the entire cabinet. A hidden compartment reveals treasure: One massive tome containing the map legend. I find something halfway through called a <strong>Tangent List</strong>. The first page has countless rows, five columns apiece, each one listed in small print. Every column bears a different alphanumeric designation.</p> <p>I skim by and the list goes on, and on. I keep flipping without regard.</p> <p>“World descriptions?”</p> <p>Again, I consult the cross-sections and swipe at sheets until I dredge up the cover page. An inky title reads:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h2><span><a href="/">The Hydra's Spine</a></span></h2> <h4><span><em>An Abridged & Annotated Guide</em></span></h4> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The text goes on to describe something in Romanised Greek called a <strong><em>Theophage</em></strong>. This place, this so-called Hydra’s Spine, is the largest <strong>hyper-fauna</strong> — a supermassive organism of Cosmic proportions — ever discovered. It died millions of years ago and exists now as fossilized remains. Lucky me?</p> <p><em>Theophage</em>, on the other hand, is defined much later on. The index is upfront:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h3><span><em>Theophage:</em></span></h3> <h4><span>God-Eater.</span></h4> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Well, that’s enough exploring for one day!</p> <p>Enough for one lifetime.<br/></p> </div> <h4><span>Wednesday, 24 April</span></h4> <h5><span>Afternoon</span></h5> <h1><span>Oleksa Estate, East Selkirk</span></h1> <h2><span>Manitoba, Canada</span></h2> <hr/> <p>I would come to experience a new phenomenon the very next day. Another I couldn’t rationalize — but one that might give off some hope.</p> <p>While attending the University of Manitoba, I live in the rural municipality with my parents. Every crack of dawn, I take the first bus down south. There are few enough passengers on this long and singularly lonesome road that I kick back. I spend my time reading, studying, or — let’s be honest — sleeping. Every afternoon, I catch the same ride back. Then, it’s a quarter-hour trek home.</p> <p>It’s far enough out of the way here that public transit is an honest miracle.</p> <p>East Selkirk is no lively neighbourhood by any means. It was originally a small farming community. One farm provided a breadbasket of opportunity that would come to employ most of the townspeople. A great deal of time passed. Then, one day, the largest stakeholders came together, split things up, and pawned it all off — so it goes.</p> <p>Oleksa Estate is one piece of land to come from the split. Built in the late ‘60s, it sprung from one of the larger Van Horne plots. After that, it changed hands at least a half-dozen times, before landing again in the lap of its founding family. Our neighbour Dale tells my dad it was a “contract-selling scheme.” I could never figure out how that works, but I feel silly asking. Since then, no-one really knows what happened. The last farm in town, now abandoned, unattended for close to a decade.</p> <p>I use Oleksa’s rolling, overgrown fields now as a shortcut. It shaves a good five minutes off my trip. But whenever I cross the barn and its farmhouse, I get the whole Jeepers Creepers vibe, and keep well clear. Not even the stoners hang out here.</p> <p>Today is different.</p> <p>As I trudge past the barn, there is an almost alien phenomenon. A great light pours from the overlook window. As a consequence of an overcast few days, the mid-afternoon drear has dampened even the slightest sunny break. Yet <a class="bi-pride" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bisexual_lighting" target="_blank">a perfectly bisexual light</a> shines in betrayal.</p> <p>I stand transfixed for a long while. Awe gives way to something bordering apprehension. I shake myself loose.</p> <p>I take a split-second to consider my next move. Then, I take off. I scamper up the long, gravel-filled drive, skip across waist-high weeds, and saunter through thick grass, my satchel bouncing all the while, eyes tracing the periphery.</p> <p>Creeping as quickly as I can, I swing around and face a cracked-open barn door. It’s just wide enough to slip through.</p> <p>I take off my bag, squeeze it to my chest, and side-step inside.</p> <p>I spurn the horror movie cliché and keep my lips sealed.</p> <p>It’s dark, which is entirely expected. I pull out my phone and switch on the torch. Predictably, the rays of light don’t travel far. I can make out dirt and straw-covered ground and little else. At the back wall, the shape of a heavily disfigured tractor sits amidst scattered debris.</p> <p>I aim the torch upwards. It doesn’t reach.</p> <p>The purple-blue light is nowhere to be seen. The overlook is far duller than expected. All other openings have long been boarded up.</p> <p>… So, what <em>did</em> I see?</p> <p>I pace the old barn, keeping track of anything out of the ordinary. This place must’ve seen four decades of active use. Why abandon something so dependable?</p> <p>A different light from my own backscatters across the far wall. Someone is creeping up on me. I cup the torch with my fingers and prepare to turn.</p> <p>Then I spin around right quick — what clueless horror protags <em>never</em> do when being followed by some psycho killer.</p> <p>I expect an angered, grizzled old landlord; or even an ancient crypt-keeper! I expect to jump in fear. Maybe, at the barest level, I expect to become the next cold case.</p> <p>Some mixture of relief and deflating excitement stirs inside my chest. It’s none of the above… But I don’t quite know <em>what</em> it is.</p> <p>It’s… A neon blue housecat? It sits behind me and glances up as I glance down. Its glare makes me squint. I take a step back. What is that — some kind of radioactive chemical in its fur? I picture people in flamboyant green hazmat suits dumping highly illegal toxic waste off Highway 59, in the forest behind the barnyard.</p> <p>I blink, and notice something else: <em>I can see right through it.</em></p> <p>It sports distinct fur patterns — spots and stripes — a pulsating, electric indigo. Its tail flicks about; the way cats act when expressing pent-up mischief. I crouch down, as close to the ground without touching. It gets up and walks towards me. It slaps its tail against my satchel. It rubs its side against my calves and knees. The feeling is unique — a soothing warmness that ebbs at the surface of contact and ripples outward.</p> <p>“Uh. Hey there.”</p> <p>By this point, it’s circled me twice over and made its way in front of me. It sits.</p> <p>Then, the light cast from its entire shimmering body blinks. Off-and-on, off-and-on, flashing as though controlled via lightswitch.</p> <p>I rub my eyes and stand, catching myself off-balance. These are surely the effects of some mild fever. It has to be a hallucination. Exam stress must be getting to me. Yeah, that’s it — my sleep hygiene is piss-poor, isn’t it? I should just get home, drop everything, and nap ‘til supper.</p> <p>Or, just maybe, I’ve had a mental break.</p> <p>I command a degree of will I didn’t know I had and avoid taking a picture. Either way, I do <em>not</em> want to find out which theory proves true.</p> <p>“Hey, uh, look. I’ve gotta go — okay?”</p> <p>I leave without another word. With my hand cupping the torch to focus its rays, I speed-walk to the door, and as I cross the threshold, glance back, crooking my head with sharp-edged curiosity.</p> <div class="end-mark"> <p>The phantasmal feline sits there, back arched and head crooked up, watching me. It slowly blinks its eyes as I slowly turn my back.</p> </div> <br/></div> </div> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="A Prologue"> <p><a href="/an-old-familiar-dream">A Prologue</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="The Lost Glade"> <p><a href="/">The Lost Glade</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Pt. II"> <p><a href="/pursuing-ghosts-part-2">Pt. II</a></p> </div> </div> <p><span id="u-activeRate"></span></p> <span id="u-activeRate"></span> <p><span id="u-activeRate"></span></p> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/pursuing-ghosts-part-1">Pursuing Ghosts, Part I</a>" by Lt Flops, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/pursuing-ghosts-part-1">https://scpwiki.com/pursuing-ghosts-part-1</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Shield_of_Manitoba.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Simple arms of the Province of Manitoba (Canada)<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Echando_una_mano" target="_blank">Echando una mano</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)</a><br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Simple_arms_of_Manitoba.svg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Note:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043739" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span>. Added black outline.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Hydra.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Hydra symbol (Moskowitz, fixed width)<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Denis Moskowitz<br/> <strong>License:</strong> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)</a><br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hydra_symbol_(Moskowitz,_fixed_width).svg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:preview">:scp-wiki:component:preview</a> text= This place has the Freedom that eludes Life and Death: Freedom unclothed, shivering in the cold; Freedom untethered, slipping from your grasp; Freedom unbound, escaping your control. ]] ===== [[div style="display: none"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a> \|witch=a \|veldt=a]] [[/div]] [!-- CSS is located at the bottom. --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=pursuing-ghosts-part-1 \|authorPage=/floppyphoenix \|comments=[[div class="blockquote lightweight"]] Pursuing Ghosts, Part I [[span class="bt bb"]]By[[/span]] [[user Lt Flops]] Published on 14 Feb 2023* ---- [[div class="centered"]] This article is part of the forthcoming Weaving Imperceptible Threads Continuity Hub. [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[include :scp-wiki:more-by:lt-flops]] [[/div]] [[module Rate]] [[div class="byline"]] [[span style="display:none"]].[[/span]] [[span]]13[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="lite-heading extra-wide"]] ---- + THE LOST GLADE ---- [[/div]] [[div class="meta-title"]] Pursuing Ghosts [[span class="i"]]PART I[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="pseudocrumbs"]] ,,[[span class="tb"]]BUT FIRST[[/span]],, [[[an-old-familiar-dream\|A Prologue: An Old, Familiar Dream]]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="journal spec_1"]] [[/div]] [[div class="journal spec_2"]] I ran away from home. I told myself that it wouldn’t be easy; that staying would be twice as tough. @@ @@ Where am I now? I couldn’t say. I might call this place “Freedom”, and myself “Queen”. And what is Freedom if not a place? But those words taste bitter when I speak. @@ @@ Freedom is a liminal territory that exists behind closed eyelids. Confined there, Freedom has far-reaching proportions. It can tip the scales marked Life and Death. Freedom sits at each extreme, filling in each a similar role. In Life, we can toil away. In Death, we can become bone, someday fossil, one day dust. Both these are Freedom. But they are a false Freedom; like pinching a grain of sand on a vast waste and hoping it might amount to an ocean. If you could hold the contents of every desiccated waste on Earth in the palm of your hand, even still, you would never match a single molecule of water. @@ @@ I’m in an immense place, but I’m stuck here. This place has the Freedom that eludes Life and Death: Freedom unclothed, shivering in the cold; Freedom untethered, slipping from your grasp; Freedom unbound, escaping your control. @@ @@ Freedom -- freed. @@ @@ I might never touch the Glade in my dream. @@ @@ But with every destination, there is a journey. @@ @@ [[>]] [[span class="highlighter"]]Mine starts here.[[/span]] @@ @@ [[size 200%]]✗@@ @@[[/size]] [[/>]] [[/div]] [[=image Shield_of_Manitoba.png class="scene-break"]] [[div class="justified"]] ++++* Monday, 22 April 2019 +++++* 5:45 a.m. +* East Selkirk ++* Manitoba, Canada ---- I stir in the all-encompassing shadows of pre-twilight. In a few groggy moments, my mental bearings come into focus: I’ve had the dream again. I shoot up, roll over, and swat at the vague impression of a drawer handle. The spiral-bound notebook with my dream journal lies in wait. [[div class="indented"]] I pen the last dream’s events in half-conscious chicken-scratches. My phone gives just enough light to make out loose arcs of lettering. I hope future-me appreciates the scribbles. Each entry inside this notebook has variations on the exact same dream. A dream I’ve dreamt four or five nights every week for the past year-and-a-half. It’s haunted me. During this ordeal, I’ve had the habit of flipping through pages and pinning down prevailing trends. There are false positives -- when a drowsy mind fumbles the words that describe an experience, or simply misremembers -- but everything else is much the same. Except, I’m not interested in broad strokes. I’m looking for variations. The tidbits, the wrinkles. @@ @@ [[div class="centered"]] … [[/div]] @@ @@ My pen trails off the side of the page. I jolt back. A split-second later, a warning alarm blares in my hand like a stick of dynamite. @@ @@ [[div_ class="text-container-wrap centered"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[span class="alarm-clock"]]6:10 [[size 75%]]AM[[/size]][[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ I bolt up from bed and get busy getting ready. Exam week. First of the week is at 8 o’clock sharp, and travel times are not in my favour. [[=image Hydra.png class="scene-break break-hydra"]] [[div class="baetyl"]] ++++* Future Date Unknown +* Location Unknown ---- There is, of course, a distinct difference between then and now. Now, instead of an alarm, the shifting substructure of a gargantuan tunnel network rouses me awake. An eerie sound creeps through -- subterranean rock vibrating all across these caves. Their echoes recede for many minutes. Instead of chomping at the bit, hoping it will go away, I channel my focus inward. I take advantage of the headspace and write in my notebook. To play out the lonesome feeling; to get poetic. It’s a time-passer. One of few, considering I’ve long since shut my phone off to conserve battery. It’s not like I’ll get any signal. The immensity of this place is what drives its eerie atmosphere. There’s surely no interior structure this huge on the planet. It must give the Large Hadron Collider a run for its money. And, what’s more, there’s surely nothing like this in bumfuck nowhere, Manitoba. But I could be wrong. My first, best guess is that I’m inside a giant cave system. It makes too much sense. Geologists theorise that, during the last Ice Age, a massive glacier scraped across the entirety of Upper North America. Manitoba felt the biggest brunt. It’s the reason the Great Lakes formed; how Lakes Winnipeg and Winnipegosis came to be. It even explains why Manitoba seems shred to shit -- like something pushed a moon-sized grater across the prairie, gouging holes in bedrock. That leaves the important question: How to escape? Navigating these tunnels becomes less an acute anxiety over time and more an insipid slog. Around every crook I imagine a Tolkien cave-troll bounding out and bellowing. Instead, my growling stomach interrupts the long silence. I spot the occasional jury-rigged stake lamp dotting the wall, each one a persistent dull orange; a shimmering orb; a possum’s eye in the dark. It’s the only sign that another human has passed through here. I can’t find any discernible power supply, but they light up the way, so I can’t complain. I hop a finger-thick crevice. A constellation of fireflies pours out, their squat bodies flashing in short, violet bursts. They lead, and I follow. [[/div]] [[=image Shield_of_Manitoba.png class="scene-break"]] ++++* Tuesday, 23 April +++++* Midnight +* East Selkirk ++* Manitoba, Canada ---- Thoughts buzz inside my skull. Eager bees scurry after the day’s pollen. Everything else keeps still. A persistent recurring dream -- and a lucid one, at that -- seems all that glues my life together. It’s a source of regularity. Day has its constants: The monotony of studying; shovelling cooked sludge down my gullet; spring sprouting in the long shadow of winter; gender dysphoria. In the night, everything gives way to the dream. That weird, wild thing. You know, at first, I questioned whether it could even //be// something. If it was, //so what//? What I might rationalize as mere stress, I might just as easily be cured of after seeing a shrink, right? But I chose another option. I told myself that it was all in my head. That I’d be best served keeping it to myself. That no serious person would even take it straight-faced. These dreams, and the stretches of time when I felt plagued, became compounded, and when they fattened up, became monstrous. In my dreams, there was no longer simply a Glade. It became luscious, tantalizing. But it also hid unseemly fringes. It held an agent of malice -- a Tormentor at its very centre -- lurking just beyond reach. As it drew near, I became convinced that I was being called to struggle against it. Not simply to defeat it, but to //excise it//. To become that Glade’s saviour. To claim its otherworldly verdancy -- for myself. As secrets often dance in their paradoxical rhythms, it became increasingly difficult to withstand two contradictory impulses: @@ @@ [[div class="centered"]] No longer could I keep hiding this burden from others. //And yet.// I could no longer muster the strength to admit it. @@ @@ How would I break free from its hold? [[/div]] [[=image Hydra.png class="scene-break break-hydra"]] [[div class="baetyl"]] ++++* Future Date Unknown +* Location Unknown ---- Day Three. I found some sort of outpost. It’s a squat, rectangular structure built from long rows of sheet metal. Copper pipes and insulated wires hang from hooks. I spot a dark entrance, look both ways, and tiptoe inside. The foyer has its roof shorn off. The interior hall is one continuous path of grated floors that feeds a series of corrugated doors. I follow snaking pipes and wires to a large room at the back. The wiring leads into a wooden electrical box. I flick the switch. For a good few seconds, something buzzes to life. Suddenly, the hall glows brighter than the surface of the sun. Thankfully, it’s short-lived; a lone generator sputters in the centre of the room, hacking up a burst of black smoke. The hall settles on a faint wash of amber. “Anyone there?” Not having spoken for a few days now, I can only stutter. “Hullo? Could someone tell me where I am?” The only response is my own voice carrying back. I head to the first closed door and nudge it with my boot. It swings open effortlessly. The floor is plywood covered by a mottled tarp. I spot boxes and desks, loose papers and odd machine parts, quill pens and inkstands. There are chairs -- though, I think I’d get skewered to death if I ever sat down, because //boy// they’re in rough shape. Everything feels closer to 1919 than 2019. The next room is much the same. The third room has a stepladder; the fourth, a wooden cabinet -- not something you see everyday. I pull one of the handles… It doesn’t budge. “Right. There’s nothing worth //shit//.” I squeeze the side of a desk and kick the cabinet. My boot crashes clean through. The entire thing keels over and smashes to the floor, its contents splaying across the room, sounds of metal-on-metal reverberating underfoot. Whoever built this metal building also put together a cabinet with balsa wood. I wince, then look over the fallen cabinet. A single house centipede scurries into a hole in the wall. My eyes land on a stack of papers typeset with scientific notation. There are equations and inscriptions and strange symbology that looks like a calculus textbook had a three-way with the //I Ching// and //The Satanic Bible//. Crouching down, I meticulously flip through the contents of a shattered bottom drawer, salvaging whatever looks cool, and setting it aside. The middle drawer has a survey of the local tunnel system: One vellum sheet per section, “subdivided according to the predominant strata therein”. Whatever. I scour several dozen plans, then skip to the back. The plans wedged in there need a closer look. There -- the unmistakable cross-section of a… Spinal column? The specs show junctures along each row of ribs, a half-kilometre abreast, each arranged to face “the spaces between spaces”. “... The fuck does that mean?” I amble back towards the foyer with my flashlight handy and point it straight up. Fifty metres above me, I discover precisely what those plans depict: The spinal column of a great Cosmic beast. Me, the outpost, and everything else -- //inside it//. ---- In my newfound frenzy I strip apart the entire cabinet. A hidden compartment reveals treasure: One massive tome containing the map legend. I find something halfway through called a Tangent List. The first page has countless rows, five columns apiece, each one listed in small print. Every column bears a different alphanumeric designation. I skim by and the list goes on, and on. I keep flipping without regard. “World descriptions?” Again, I consult the cross-sections and swipe at sheets until I dredge up the cover page. An inky title reads: @@ @@ ++* [[[/\|The Hydra's Spine]]] ++++* //An Abridged & Annotated Guide// @@ @@ The text goes on to describe something in Romanised Greek called a //Theophage//. This place, this so-called Hydra’s Spine, is the largest hyper-fauna -- a supermassive organism of Cosmic proportions -- ever discovered. It died millions of years ago and exists now as fossilized remains. Lucky me? //Theophage//, on the other hand, is defined much later on. The index is upfront: @@ @@ +++* //Theophage:// ++++* God-Eater. @@ @@ Well, that’s enough exploring for one day! Enough for one lifetime. [[/div]] [[=image Shield_of_Manitoba.png class="scene-break"]] ++++* Wednesday, 24 April +++++* Afternoon +* Oleksa Estate, East Selkirk ++* Manitoba, Canada ---- I would come to experience a new phenomenon the very next day. Another I couldn’t rationalize -- but one that might give off some hope. While attending the University of Manitoba, I live in the rural municipality with my parents. Every crack of dawn, I take the first bus down south. There are few enough passengers on this long and singularly lonesome road that I kick back. I spend my time reading, studying, or -- let’s be honest -- sleeping. Every afternoon, I catch the same ride back. Then, it’s a quarter-hour trek home. It’s far enough out of the way here that public transit is an honest miracle. East Selkirk is no lively neighbourhood by any means. It was originally a small farming community. One farm provided a breadbasket of opportunity that would come to employ most of the townspeople. A great deal of time passed. Then, one day, the largest stakeholders came together, split things up, and pawned it all off -- so it goes. Oleksa Estate is one piece of land to come from the split. Built in the late ‘60s, it sprung from one of the larger Van Horne plots. After that, it changed hands at least a half-dozen times, before landing again in the lap of its founding family. Our neighbour Dale tells my dad it was a “contract-selling scheme.” I could never figure out how that works, but I feel silly asking. Since then, no-one really knows what happened. The last farm in town, now abandoned, unattended for close to a decade. I use Oleksa’s rolling, overgrown fields now as a shortcut. It shaves a good five minutes off my trip. But whenever I cross the barn and its farmhouse, I get the whole Jeepers Creepers vibe, and keep well clear. Not even the stoners hang out here. Today is different. As I trudge past the barn, there is an almost alien phenomenon. A great light pours from the overlook window. As a consequence of an overcast few days, the mid-afternoon drear has dampened even the slightest sunny break. Yet [[a class="bi-pride" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bisexual_lighting"]]a perfectly bisexual light[[/a]] shines in betrayal. I stand transfixed for a long while. Awe gives way to something bordering apprehension. I shake myself loose. I take a split-second to consider my next move. Then, I take off. I scamper up the long, gravel-filled drive, skip across waist-high weeds, and saunter through thick grass, my satchel bouncing all the while, eyes tracing the periphery. Creeping as quickly as I can, I swing around and face a cracked-open barn door. It’s just wide enough to slip through. I take off my bag, squeeze it to my chest, and side-step inside. I spurn the horror movie cliché and keep my lips sealed. It’s dark, which is entirely expected. I pull out my phone and switch on the torch. Predictably, the rays of light don’t travel far. I can make out dirt and straw-covered ground and little else. At the back wall, the shape of a heavily disfigured tractor sits amidst scattered debris. I aim the torch upwards. It doesn’t reach. The purple-blue light is nowhere to be seen. The overlook is far duller than expected. All other openings have long been boarded up. … So, what //did// I see? I pace the old barn, keeping track of anything out of the ordinary. This place must’ve seen four decades of active use. Why abandon something so dependable? A different light from my own backscatters across the far wall. Someone is creeping up on me. I cup the torch with my fingers and prepare to turn. Then I spin around right quick -- what clueless horror protags //never// do when being followed by some psycho killer. I expect an angered, grizzled old landlord; or even an ancient crypt-keeper! I expect to jump in fear. Maybe, at the barest level, I expect to become the next cold case. Some mixture of relief and deflating excitement stirs inside my chest. It’s none of the above… But I don’t quite know //what// it is. It’s… A neon blue housecat? It sits behind me and glances up as I glance down. Its glare makes me squint. I take a step back. What is that -- some kind of radioactive chemical in its fur? I picture people in flamboyant green hazmat suits dumping highly illegal toxic waste off Highway 59, in the forest behind the barnyard. I blink, and notice something else: //I can see right through it.// It sports distinct fur patterns -- spots and stripes -- a pulsating, electric indigo. Its tail flicks about; the way cats act when expressing pent-up mischief. I crouch down, as close to the ground without touching. It gets up and walks towards me. It slaps its tail against my satchel. It rubs its side against my calves and knees. The feeling is unique -- a soothing warmness that ebbs at the surface of contact and ripples outward. “Uh. Hey there.” By this point, it’s circled me twice over and made its way in front of me. It sits. Then, the light cast from its entire shimmering body blinks. Off-and-on, off-and-on, flashing as though controlled via lightswitch. I rub my eyes and stand, catching myself off-balance. These are surely the effects of some mild fever. It has to be a hallucination. Exam stress must be getting to me. Yeah, that’s it -- my sleep hygiene is piss-poor, isn’t it? I should just get home, drop everything, and nap ‘til supper. Or, just maybe, I’ve had a mental break. I command a degree of will I didn’t know I had and avoid taking a picture. Either way, I do //not// want to find out which theory proves true. “Hey, uh, look. I’ve gotta go -- okay?” I leave without another word. With my hand cupping the torch to focus its rays, I speed-walk to the door, and as I cross the threshold, glance back, crooking my head with sharp-edged curiosity. [[div class="end-mark"]] The phantasmal feline sits there, back arched and head crooked up, watching me. It slowly blinks its eyes as I slowly turn my back. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[=image Shield_of_Manitoba.png class="scene-break"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/an-old-familiar-dream \| previous-title=A Prologue \| next-url=/pursuing-ghosts-part-2 \| next-title=Pt. II \| hub-url=/ \| hub-title=The Lost Glade ]] [[div class="footing"]] [[/div]] [[span id="activeRate"]] [[module Rate]] [[/span]] ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Filename:* Shield_of_Manitoba.png Name: Simple arms of the Province of Manitoba (Canada) Author: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Echando_una_mano Echando una mano] License:* [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/ Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)] Source Link:* [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Simple_arms_of_Manitoba.svg Wikimedia Commons] Note:* Edited by [[user Lt Flops]]. Added black outline. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Filename:* Hydra.png Name: Hydra symbol (Moskowitz, fixed width) Author: Denis Moskowitz License: [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/ Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)] Source Link:* [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hydra_symbol_(Moskowitz,_fixed_width).svg Wikimedia Commons] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[module CSS]] / ==== FONTS ==== / @import url(https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Permanent+Marker&display=swap); @import url(https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Orbitron:wght@600&display=swap); / == COMMON == / :root { --part: "Permanent Marker", cursive; --alarm: "Orbitron", sans-serif; } / == ALL CHAPTERS == / .lite-heading.extra-wide { position: relative; left: calc(-33vw + 50%); width: 66vw; max-width: 66vw; background: linear-gradient( to right, transparent, var(--fgColor) 10% 90%, transparent); } .lite-heading.extra-wide hr { height: .3rem; background: linear-gradient( to right, transparent, var(--accentColor) 10% 90%, transparent); border: 0; } .lite-heading.extra-wide h1 { background: -webkit-linear-gradient( var(--accentColor) 55%, transparent 85%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; font-size: 2.95rem; letter-spacing: .4rem } .lite-heading.extra-wide h3 { margin-bottom: .7em; font-size: 1.95rem; letter-spacing: .2rem } @media (max-width: 767.9px) { .lite-heading.extra-wide { left: unset; width: unset; max-width: unset; } } @media (max-width: 575.9px) { .lite-heading.extra-wide h1 { background: -webkit-linear-gradient( var(--accentColor) 25%, transparent 95%); -webkit-background-clip: text; } } h2, h4 { color: var(--textColorMid); filter: none; } .scene-break.break-hydra { filter: invert(77%) sepia(24%) saturate(1063%) hue-rotate(78deg) brightness(87%) contrast(88%); } / == EARTHWORM SERIES NAVIGATOR == / /* * By Croquembouche */ #page-content .earthworm .hub { background: var(--accentColorLite); border-color: transparent; } #page-content .earthworm .hub a { color: var(--keyColor); } / == CHAPTER-SPECIFIC == */ .i { color: hsl(196, 94%, 67%); font: 2.05rem var(--part); letter-spacing: 2px; } .alarm-clock { animation: 1s flash cubic-bezier(1,0,0,1) infinite alternate; color: var(--bright-red); font: 4.95rem var(--alarm); } @keyframes flash { 0%, 100% { color: var(--bright-red); } 50% { color: transparent; } } .baetyl { --fgColor: hsla(108, 29%, 10%, .67); padding: .53rem 1rem; color: var(--textColorLow); background-color: var(--fgColor); border-radius: 2rem; } .journal.spec_1 { -webkit-mask-image: linear-gradient( hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .95), hsla(0, 0%, 0%, 0) 95%); height: 42.13rem; margin-bottom: -44rem; } .journal.spec_2 { position: relative; background: 0; border: 0; } .journal p { color: var(--textColorMid); } a.bi-pride { background: linear-gradient( 90deg, hsl(328, 86%, 65%), hsl(304, 55%, 65%) 45%, hsl(304, 55%, 65%) 55%, hsl(221, 81%, 65%)); -webkit-background-clip: text; border-image: linear-gradient( 90deg, hsl(328, 86%, 65%), hsl(304, 55%, 65%) 45%, hsl(304, 55%, 65%) 55%, hsl(221, 81%, 65%)) 1; border-top: 0; border-right: 0; border-left: 0; font-weight: bold; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent; } a.bi-pride:hover { background: linear-gradient( 90deg, hsl(328, 86%, 65%), hsl(304, 55%, 65%) 45%, hsl(304, 55%, 65%) 55%, hsl(221, 81%, 65%)); -webkit-text-fill-color: black; } [[/module]]	2023-02-14T18:35:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "adventure", "first-person", "lgbtq", "tale", "w-i-t-c-h" ]	Pursuing Ghosts, Part I - SCP Foundation	28	[ "scp-4420", "scp-4416", "scp-4790", "scp-3570", "scp-4031", "scp-5990", "scp-3787", "scp-5810", "scp-3464", "scp-4190", "scp-3719", "scp-6327", "scp-7723", "scp-2", "the-abyss-gazes-back", "the-doctor-s-dilemma", "fifthist-family-picnic", "umbral-migratory-sequence", "buggy-hardware", "what-lurks", "no-sense-crying", "a-scene-from-a-meme", "illac", "crispy-sex-pirates", "inner-space", "a-necromantic-prelude", "an-old-familiar-dream", "solidao", "samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider", "pursuing-ghosts-part-2", "spc-993", "spc-507", "saturn-s-corner", "scattersomnia", "void-dancer-hub", "theme:pataphysics", "theme:classic", "theme:flopstyle-dark", "theme:flopstyle", "theme:pack-of-peanuts", "theme:anon", "theme:saphir", "theme:sapphire", "scp-3309", "scp-3739", "scp-4428", "henzoids-author-page", "scp-4475", "scp-4519", "natalie-watts", "scp-4795", "dr-mews-personnel-file", "scp-6447", "elunerazim", "scp-6481", "ellie3-gimmick-free", "scp-6705", "lord-stonefish", "scp-6830", "ariadnes-malibu-dream-house", "scp-7010", "stormbreath", "avian-anthology-i", "bird", "avian-anthology-ii", "land-of-honey", "broken-masquerade-epistolary", "researcher-nyka-s-file", "the-sacred-djehuti", "ayers-array", "grant-request-post-mortem-neural-preservation", "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "critter-profile-bartholomew", "notgull", "non-prophet-organization-hub", "i-hub", "elenee-s-author-page", "spc-hub", "peppersghost", "wrong-analytics", "lordxvnv", "milk-hub", "departments-complete-list", "top", "dr-moned-s-temporal-pocket-universe", "floppyphoenix", "component:info-ayers", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "void-dancer-hub", "bird", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446186292	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/pursuing-ghosts-part-1
qualitytime	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Terry woke up at 1:44 PM on Thursday. Normally, that would be late, even by Terry’s standards, but they had a night job to prepare for.</p> <p>Terry ate some leftovers that would have passed for decent Italian if it had been fresh and got to work. They decided to check over their job details and their first conversation with their new friend over breakfast.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h3 id="toc0"><span>(593)444-6889</span></h3> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Hey is this the hitman?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">I prefer the term assassin, but yes.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">…</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Right, the code: potato</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Okay. Here’s the job: Your target is suffering from some sort of anomalous pathogen, but I’ve judged the risk of this pathogen spreading to you to be low, so you don’t need to worry.</span><br/> <span class="text">My client reached out to me after this individual killed their son.</span><br/> <span class="text">My research suggests the target has highly potent offensive capabilities that annihilate matter at the molecular level via touch. Whether this ability can be used to block bullets or expel poisons is currently unknown.</span><br/> <span class="text">I’ve emailed you a photo of the target and likely locations for them to visit in the coming days.</span><br/> <span class="text">Pay is ten grand upon confirmation of death.</span><br/> <span class="text">Is this acceptable?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Yes.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Very well. Update me as needed.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>The conversation was one of Terry’s favorite ways to start a friendship. It even included a bonus friend who was too shy to talk to Terry themself, making three new friends total. They had asked to keep in touch and even offered more money than <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-assassination-of-tarrare">the usual</a>.</p> <p><em>Were they worried about me? Or perhaps intimidated?</em> The thought made Terry happy either way.</p> <p>And the other friend with the money, they were certainly worried about Terry, but this wasn’t Terry's first time. They’ll come to trust Terry to do their job soon enough. The concern was nice though; it made Terry feel all rumbly inside, or perhaps that was food poisoning. It was difficult to tell sometimes.</p> <p>The last of the new friendships probably wouldn’t last. Friendships were great but could be exhausting for Terry, and they had been hired to kill this one, after all. It was kind of nice that those types were short. The last new friend was an elementary school teacher named Julia Pennrose whose fiancé had recently gone missing.</p> <p>After looking into the new friend-target’s habits, social media, and financial activity (it was important to be thorough and caring in friendship), Terry noticed something. Although her credit card was inactive at the moment, Julia had withdrawn a reasonably large amount of cash at a local ATM. Based on her gas purchases from the previous months and the amount of cash she had, Terry determined the most likely places to hide out were either with a local family member or at a hotel. Time to start searching.</p> <hr/> <p>Researcher Yusuf Flemming was trying to track down a lead. An instance of <a href="/scp-213">SCP-213</a> had emerged, but the Foundation had yet to make the connection. Flemming himself had been going through a stack of potentially anomalous crime reports for an unrelated reason, and he happened to notice that the time of the victim’s disappearance coincided with a fire alarm. Afterwards, a little research into the background of the alleged kidnapper and the victim allowed him to deduce that intentional foul play, especially kidnapping or the disposal of a body, was unlikely.</p> <p>This was it; this was his ticket to promotion. He just needed to once more prove himself capable of the light field work researchers were required to perform. Then, he could put that <a href="/scp-5738">embarrassing incident</a> behind him, receive a promotion, and finally get his career back on track.</p> <p>Flemming had managed to track the target’s general area by accessing the city’s traffic cameras, but narrowing the search down further had proven difficult. The target was in a bad part of town, which meant fewer advantages like security cameras, even on the civilian side of things.</p> <p>Should he try putting out an APB to the local police? No, they were already looking for her, and even if Flemming helped them narrow the search, then he would only be trading their safety for nothing but a headache. Managing the skip might get easier, but it would cause an incident and cost more resources. More importantly, it would cost him the promotion, and that couldn’t happen.</p> <p>Was it time to show his hand? He’d done a good job at tracking the target to a small area. The victim had a few nearby family members, however, and cheap motels were in abundance here. <em>No</em>, he decided, <em>the area might be physically small, but there were too many viable locations.</em> No one was going to be impressed with his work if he made an MTF search a dozen locations in a manhunt. He didn’t even have concrete evidence that a skip was involved. He trusted his conclusions, but, ultimately, he couldn’t bring the Foundation in without something concrete. His search had to continue. He just needed time, and time was always on his side these days.</p> <p>He was staying in one of the cheap motels that littered the area. It had questionably thin walls, but it lay perfectly in the epicenter of his search parameters, so Flemming could hardly complain. His target was likely trying to remain low for now, and he would get an alert if her location was uncovered by the police so there was no need to rush. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.</p> <p>He resolved to get some rest for now and continue his search in the morning. He settled into his bed after layering a blanket from his car on top of it. He also made sure to stay towards the head of the bed, because he’d seen a cockroach crawl out from under the foot of it earlier. Eventually, fears of vermin were replaced by dreams of career advancement, and he fell asleep.</p> <p>He awoke a few hours later to a scream and a flash of light.</p> <hr/> <p>It wasn’t until 6:30 in the evening that Terry left their house. They had deliberately waited for two reasons: First, targets were easier to track down at night, as they tended to move around less. Second, Terry wanted rush hour to be over before hitting the road.</p> <p>After making it over to the correct area, Terry quickly managed to find the right location. They had tracked down the license plate number of the target’s rental, and Terry had managed to spot it at the first motel, one at the dead center of their search area. Good thing too, meeting a friend’s parents on the first day sounded stressful.</p> <p>After a lovely conversation with the concierge, Terry had acquired three things: the target’s room number, a dead witness, and a countdown until the police got involved. Terry’s silent pistol had forestalled that clock, but police involvement was inevitable at this point.</p> <p>After quickly and quietly making their way to the target’s motel room, Terry put their ear to the door. Soft, steady breathing met Terry’s ears, and it sounded like the only breathing in the room. The target should be alone. Good, that’ll make it easier to get to know them before they’re shot. Terry confirmed the room number and unlocked it with the skeleton key stolen from the main office. Just as Terry prepared to open the door, a scream rang out from the room, quickly followed by a flash of bright light.</p> <hr/> <p>Julia Pennrose had been having the worst week of her life. First, she had become deathly ill and hospitalized only for the doctor’s to find nothing. Then, she began to feel better almost instantly and was accused of lying for attention by her fiancé's parents. Next, she and her fiancé, also a teacher at her school, had gotten into a fight that ended in what she could only conceive as being struck down by God.</p> <p>From there, she grieved briefly before necessity took hold of her reasoning. She had packed up and left, unsure of what else to do. The fire alarm had made getting out of the building easy since her class had been at lunch, but beyond that she had no clue what to do. She eventually settled on running and hiding in a shitty motel while she figured out a plan.</p> <p>Only, things hadn’t settled down after that. She fell asleep from sheer emotional exhaustion eventually. A couple hours later, however, she woke up screaming in a sudden burst of pain. Her hand hurt like hell!</p> <p>After she had calmed down enough to get her phone for light, she saw that the tips of her fingers were blackened with… rot? It’s like only the extremities of her hand, the parts closest to the head of her bed, had died. Was this another act of God? Or was it an infection?</p> <p>Oh no… the moment she had thought of a possible infection, her entire body began to drain of stamina and heat up. The effect continued building and building until eventually her entire right hand disintegrated in a flash of light. She screamed again as her dominant hand faded from existence.</p> <hr/> <p>Flemming took a moment to recover from shock before leaping into action. He immediately rushed outside to see what was going on. Something felt off to him as he scrambled over, but he couldn’t identify what it was.</p> <p>Regardless, he needed to check things out.</p> <p>He saw the neighboring door ajar and ran toward it. He entered the room only to see a placid individual standing over a blonde woman. The woman looked familiar… It was Miss Pennrose! His target!</p> <p>Her screaming had dulled to a pitiful whine, and the cause of her current stress was clear: her right hand was gone, and now her wrist was bleeding out.</p> <p>The deadened remains of the hand lay between Flemming and the bed. He recognized the damage immediately: sudden onset necrosis. It was a terribly rare sort of injury, but Flemming had grown familiar with it. His condition had a habit of causing it when he became careless.</p> <p>That’s what had been bothering him! Over the past couple years as an instance of <a href="/scp-5738">SCP-5738-1</a>, Flemming had identified the trigger for his episodes of stopped time: stress. Waking up to screaming and flashing lights should have been more than enough to immediately trigger his anomalous properties. For it not to have been triggered could only mean one thing: it had recently deactivated.</p> <p>His episodes usually happened one to three times in a twenty-four hour period on an average, low-stress day. It could activate more frequently in a day if something stressful, like a containment breach, occurred but one thing never changed: he always had at least thirty minutes of normal time after an episode.</p> <p>In short, Flemming had just had an episode and caused the necrosis on this woman’s hand. When time had stopped for Flemming, it had done so in an area just barely wide enough to include most of her fingers’ mass.</p> <p>“Who are you?” the figure in the shadows suddenly spoke firmly and with authority.</p> <p>Oh right, he had forgotten about them.</p> <hr/> <p>Terry was very confused. That was fairly normal since Terry’s social skills were “abysmal,” and “out of touch with reality,” and “a violent perversion of human connection”, and all the other mean but slightly true things court officials had said in Terry’s teenage years.</p> <p>This was extra confusing for Terry though, because it was about injuries, a topic Terry was well-versed in. How had the woman’s hand gone dead like that? Why had her own hand been blown off? Why was she still fussing so much after a whole ten seconds of pain? This friend might be a bit too dramatic. Time to end things.</p> <p>It was then that another figure entered the room. He had short hair and a big beard, reminiscent of obsidian in color and it paired well with his caramel skin, or at least, Terry thought it did. They had never really understood what made someone look good or not. His eyes were large; the kind Terry’s social cue tutors would call expressive and maybe soft? Words like that were always difficult for Terry. Regardless, the man looked nice enough to Terry.</p> <p>Was this another friend? It’s important to introduce yourself when making friends. Terry remembered being told to put their best foot forward when meeting people. Did that mean they had already failed with the lady friend on the bed? It was too dark to see anyone’s shoes in the room, and they had already fed her the poison pill as a painkiller. Terry was pretty sure pain stopped when you died, after all.</p> <p><em>No, don't get distracted. Introduce yourself</em>, Terry thought.</p> <p>“Who are you?” Terry said louder than they meant to. Introductions would be easier if they went first, they had decided.</p> <hr/> <p>Flemming introduced himself after a moment’s hesitation, “Flemming, Yusuf Flemming. Researcher for… doesn’t matter.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, keeping his voice deliberately calm and quiet.</p> <p>Terry thought this man was very nice and polite. He had introduced himself using all the rules Terry had studied and immediately returned the favor, showing an interest in Terry. Now that they had more time, Terry could see that Flemming’s clothes were thrown together and ruffled up. Oh nice, Terry hated worrying about clothes too. All they had was they’re lucky tank top and jeans for the cool spring night. This was good. Having things in common was good. Maybe Terry didn’t need Julia, after all.</p> <p>Terry stepped out into the light.</p> <p>Flemming finally got a good look at the stranger. From what little he could see of the figure, they were best described as a hot mess. While they were a bit unkempt, their appearance was certainly appealing in a fluid way that could never be truly portrayed in artwork. Flemming unintentionally paused for a moment to examine them further as they approached, his eyes lingering a beat longer than was appropriate.</p> <p>Terry approached their new friend with their hand outstretched. Their right hand. They had gotten it right this time. “I’m Terry,” they said, making sure to give their new friend a big smile as they were taught.</p> <p>Flemming shook Terry’s hand, even though they had a malevolent grin on their face. They were clearly enjoying the demise of the skip, why else would someone smile in this situation?</p> <p>“Is she going to live?” he couldn’t help but ask.</p> <p>“No,” Terry responded, “I’m finished with them.”</p> <p>“You don’t sound concerned,” Flemming replied.</p> <p>“I’m not. It’s what I came here for, after all,” Terry supplied nonchalantly. This was nice. Talking about your day with a friend after work is nice, they decided. “She’ll be dead in minutes after the pill I gave her begins to dissolve.” Thankfully, the whiny former friend was too self-absorbed to hear Terry’s comment. What had they seen in her anyway?</p> <p>“I see,” Flemming slowly replied. Flemming was having trouble taking things in. The whimpering skip he could no longer capture alive. The relaxed attitude of the stranger known as Terry. The ease with which they had killed. Their delicate yet firm hand, their fragrant but messy hair, and their impeccably cute face. Who was this person? Why didn’t they seem concerned with Flemming? Why was he more worried about them than his lost promotion?</p> <p>It was all so confusing.</p> <p>Terry had more masculine features of course, but Flemming was inevitably more drawn to certain aspects of Terry’s appearance due to his preferences.</p> <p>“We should get out of here,” Terry said.</p> <p>“Right…” Flemming said, shaking himself out of his embarrassing freeze-up.</p> <p>The Global Occult Coalition. That’s who Terry had to be working for. No one else would simply neutralize a skip and walk away, and Terry had to be good if they were doing so alone and in civilian-wear no less. If Flemming had the good fortune to not get on their bad side, especially when his powers were down, then he wasn’t going to question his luck.</p> <p>However.. Did they know he worked for the Foundation? His little slip-up earlier hadn’t been subtle, but he had to be sure.</p> <p>“I work for the Foundation,” he stated plainly and came to a halt.</p> <p>Terry turned around to meet their new friend’s eyes after they had stopped hearing footsteps. Matching up his expression to their flashcard practice was difficult with his beard, but they thought he looked… concerned? Maybe guilty? Terry wasn’t sure why, but that was nothing unusual. More importantly, it seemed significant to Yusuf so they had to say something, right? What would someone with empathy do?</p> <p>Terry eventually settled on a simple, “I understand.”</p> <p>“Ah, I see,” Flemming said with a gulp. “Then, you understand I was here for the anomaly back there, yes? I… My organization was set to capture her. Does that…?”</p> <p>He wanted to ask “Does that mean you have to kill me?” but he couldn’t make himself say it. He wanted to redeem himself with successful field work, but Terry's type of field work wasn’t what he had in mind. That wasn’t the job of a researcher. No, this type of field work was best left to someone more… expendable. Alright, that was a bad way of putting it. Someone willing to risk their life in combat, really. It wasn’t the MTFs fault that meant expendability.</p> <p>When Terry saw Yusuf pause, they added, “I don’t see how that matters.” It was the honest truth. They had already killed the friend, no, former friend, they had needed to. Any extra friends made along the way were great but didn’t need to get killed. Terry was confident they could find another activity to do while they hung out.</p> <p>Flemming breathed a sigh of relief at that. Terry thought that was a good sign. It reminded them of their old friend, <a href="/scp-913">Mr. Hungry</a>. That made Terry glad. It would’ve made Terry happy, but that seemed like a lot of energy to put into emotion.</p> <p>It was then that Terry’s train of thought was interrupted. They had gotten another text. Terry had recently sent a picture of Julia suffering but not dead. Terry didn’t want to be here when the body went radioactive after all. Oh right, they had to get out of here before that happened.</p> <p>Terry grabbed their buddy Yusuf’s hand and led them away while checking their phone.</p> <p>It was time for another job.</p> <hr/> <p>Flemming wanted to ask more questions, as a researcher was wont to do, but he was taken aback and a little embarrassed by Terry’s actions. It was partially due to their straightforward and unapologetic, though not unwelcome, physical contact, but it was also the complete 180 they had just done.</p> <p>Terry had an anomaly for Flemming. Apparently, they had just gotten an assignment involving yet another skip of the same type. Could this be some sort of outbreak? Maybe even an invasion of some sort? Impossible to say, but Flemming was told, in no uncertain terms, that he could take the entity into custody.</p> <p>Terry, on the other hand, had just gotten another job to send two similarly anomalous targets “Gently into the night.” Terry thought it was odd to hire an assassin to do this instead of a nurse or something, but when they mentioned it to Yusuf, he seemed interested in taking the lead here. Terry supposed it didn’t matter where their new friends went to sleep, so it might as well be at Yusuf’s Foundation place if he was offering.</p> <p>It’s important to build trust with friends, right? And judging by how Yusuf kept giving little squeezes to Terry’s hand, it seemed like he trusted them. It would be rude not to return the favor, right? So, they gave Yusuf a bright smile and nodded to his request.</p> <p>Shortly afterwards, they were on their way to catch a new anomaly in Flemming’s car since Terry didn’t have one. Two minutes later, the kinetic energy from <a href="/scp-3521">millions of bananas</a> exploded from Julia Pennrose’s stomach, leveling most of the motel as it ended her suffering.</p> <hr/> <p>After resting for the night in some proper hotel rooms, the two got ready for a new day and met for coffee and a continental breakfast.</p> <p>“So…” Flemming started awkwardly, “how does the GOC want to handle this?”</p> <p>Terry didn’t know anything about the Global Occult Coalition. Their knowledge of what lay past the veil extended little beyond it existing. Friendship on the other hand, Terry totally understood, and it was so great that Flemming was already giving Terry nicknames. They should respond positively.</p> <p>“The GOC believes your plan is acceptable,” Terry replied. Talking in the third person was new, but Terry couldn’t think of another way to acknowledge the sudden nickname.</p> <p>Flemming smiled gratefully in response. <em>Successful interaction</em>, Terry thought.</p> <p>“Very well,” Flemming responded, beaming, “I’m grateful, especially after you helped uh… clean up last night,” he finished sheepishly.</p> <p>Terry didn’t see what the big deal was, erasing evidence of their involvement would’ve had to happen anyway. No reason not to include their new friend in the coverage.</p> <p>“Of course, it was no trouble,” they said smoothly.</p> <p>“Great. And you’re sure you want to accompany me today?”</p> <p>“Sure.”</p> <p>“Wonderful,” Flemming said. He decided to get a little bold and reached for Terry’s hand, fingers interlocking. “Can I count on you to have my back?”</p> <p>Terry was more confused than surprised by the physical contact. They didn’t mind; in fact, they found it rather novel and amusing. They also thought it a nice milestone in their friendship, and that made them happy. More a feeling of content than Flemming’s excitement, but it was a form of happiness nonetheless.</p> <hr/> <p>Terry’s friend, the one who had hired them, had managed to investigate further and discover another instance of <a href="/scp-213">SCP-213</a>. They wanted them eliminated because it was “bad for business.” Apparently, this person was likely responsible for “infecting” Julia Pennrose.</p> <p>The first target was a Mr. Robert Clemmons, a divorced bartender whose twin daughters were in Miss Pennrose’s class. They had met a month earlier for a parent teacher conference, the first one that his ex-wife was unable to attend, allowing him to participate instead. Clemmons had apparently mastered restraining his abilities, and it was only a case from two years ago that allowed Terry’s friend to make the connection.</p> <p>The plan was for Flemming and Terry to follow him, wait for him to be alone, and then knock him out. Terry offered to use chloroform on him, because of course Terry had that on their person, but Flemming thought normal amnestics would be sufficient. It would also erase any memory of them following the target before his disappearance.</p> <p>The problem, however, was the location.</p> <p>Clemmons had decided that, today of all days, was the perfect time to take his new boyfriend out to an amusement park.</p> <p>First, Flemming and Terry got cotton candy, purely because stalking their prey required it, of course.</p> <p>And because they were being so purely practical, Flemming bought only stick of cotton candy, for the two of them to share, to save money. No ulterior motives abound.</p> <p>Next, the two of them were utterly forced onto one of the rollercoasters, because waiting at the exit would be too suspicious, naturally.</p> <p>Flemming was enjoying himself and going slow, because he didn’t want to make Terry feel torn between continuing their mission and indulging his romantic interests. So he went one step at a time, making sure they consented appropriately along the way while analyzing their receptiveness.</p> <p>Terry meanwhile was having a great time! This was what they always wanted in a friendship! Spending the day together with one friend while learning about another was a dream come true for them.</p> <p>Terry thought the cotton candy was a bit annoying, but seeing it caught inside Flemming’s facial hair and hearing him call himself “Candybeard” was worth it. Inside jokes were the best.</p> <p>Riding a rollercoaster was another new experience for Terry. Waiting in line was nice when you had a friend with you, and while Terry was normally somewhat neutral about holding hands with Flemming, it made more sense to do so once you were on a dangerous rollercoaster, so Terry initiated this time. It was for their friend’s safety, after all, and it seemed to make him happy.</p> <p>They took two isolated seats at the back while their friend-target was up front, and the ride began.</p> <p>This ride was one that started by slowly climbing a big incline. It must have been scary because Yusuf kept giving little squeezes to Terry’s hand. Terry squeezed back for solidarity even though they weren’t scared. A fall from this height would probably kill them without any time for pain, so there wasn’t anything to be scared of, in their opinion.</p> <p>Flemming was excited, both at the prospect of promotion and in general with how the day was going. Which is why he was so disappointed when, at the peak of the initial incline on the ride, his ability activated, bringing the flow of time to a grinding halt for most of reality.</p> <p>Terry was confused and not by people, for once. Right at the peak of the ride, everything suddenly went dark. No light was making it to Terry’s eyes. All the background noise of the busy park was gone. Only touch and the sound of breathing were available to Terry’s senses.</p> <p>“Terry, are you alright?” Flemming asked. Good, he was there too.</p> <p>“I’m fine,” Terry said. “You?”</p> <p>“Also fine,” Flemming supplied.</p> <p>“Cool.”</p> <p>“Yeah,” Flemming added lamely.</p> <p>“Hey, Yusuf?”</p> <p>“Yeah, Terry?”</p> <p>“What the fuck is happening?”</p> <p>“Ah… right. Technically I’m… not supposed to tell you that…”</p> <p>“…”</p> <p>“…”</p> <p>“…”</p> <p>Terry was busy digesting the circumstances and deciding how to react. They also respected their friend’s inability to tell them what was going on, but they were bad at improvising, especially in conversation. Therefore, they were merely thinking hard about what they should do.</p> <p>Flemming, on the other hand, mistook Terry’s silence for stark disappointment, and, had he been able to see Terry’s blank expression, it would have only reinforced the false notion. Between that and his hopes for the future, he broke the rules in disappointingly short amount of time.</p> <p>The awkward silence didn’t help.</p> <p>“I can stop time, but I have almost no control over it, and it’s limited in space to about half a meter around me, and we might be in slight danger of running low on breathable air given our movements are restricted,” Flemming delivered breathlessly. “You should uh… probably scooch over closer to me. Is your whole body inside?”</p> <p>Terry digested this and realized that, no, their left arm was numb. They scooched over to the right quickly, obliterating any remaining notion of personal space left in the cramped seats. Terry couldn’t think of much else to do. They were less familiar with this than their new companion apparently was. The only idea they had was to search for a manual release for their seatbelts, but even if the pair managed to find them, using them probably wasn’t wise.</p> <p>Eventually, Terry remembered to speak again.</p> <p>“Okay. What’s this about running low on air?”</p> <p>“Oh, ah, time is only flowing in a small area around us, which basically means that air isn’t flowing as well as normal, only flowing at all inside this little bubble of mine. Normally, this isn’t much of a problem since the effect is centered on me, and I can usually just move around to get fresh air, but in rare cases like this, we’re in danger of running low on oxygen,” Flemming explained.</p> <p>“I see.”</p> <p>“Yeah…”</p> <p>“So what do we do?” Terry asked.</p> <p>“I always keep an emergency capsule or two of pure oxygen, but we probably won’t need to use them. Just stick close to me and move how I say, and we’ll be able to conserve oxygen,” Flemming continued.</p> <p>“Alright…” Terry said. They moved closer and put their right arm around Flemming. “Like this?”</p> <p>Flemming paused for a moment, flustered, “Yes, that will do nicely.”</p> <p>So they cuddled.</p> <p>After a beat, Terry asked, “how long will this last?”</p> <p>“Well technically, time is stopped so-”</p> <p>“No,” Terry interrupted. That line had tested their patience. “How long will this last for us?”</p> <p>“The average is about thirty minutes, but it could range anywhere from about twenty to forty minutes,” Flemming replied, regaining an appropriatly serious attitude for the situation.</p> <p>Ten or so minutes passed in solemn silence. Well, solemn for Flemming really. Terry recovered from being upset rather quickly. They were just content with silence.</p> <p>Eventually, Flemming directed the pair of them to move as far left as possible to facilitate airflow, and the silence was broken.</p> <p>Flemming began engaging Terry in small talk. It was nothing special. How had they been enjoying the day? It was good? That’s good. How did they like the weather? It was alright? Alright.</p> <p>Eventually, Terry grew comfortable enough to start asking questions that Flemming hadn’t asked first. “How would you like to handle the target after this? What about their partner? How do you plan to extract them?”</p> <p>Flemming was a little disappointed by the professional turn in the conversation, but he tried to keep things pleasant enough. The problem was, however, that Flemming hadn’t thought much about these things.</p> <p>Originally with Julia Pennrose, he had been planning to locate the first target and simply notify the Foundation. Now that he had Terry on his side, he had thought they could help him impress his superiors further by establishing capture. Although Terry was more of a field expert than Flemming, they were still letting Flemming lead, at his request no less. Between his inexperience and his distracting himself with Terry, he wasn’t prepared with any details.</p> <p>“Follow them out to the parking lot, give the pair amnestics, and then kidnap the target?” Flemming half-asked, looking for approval. Metaphorically looking, of course; he still couldn’t see a thing.</p> <p>Terry replied, “I see. Why are we doing this instead of simply waiting for them in the parking lot?”</p> <p>Flemming was rather stumped at that. The idea simply hadn’t occurred to him. Terry was right, of course, that would be easier because the amusement park had only one entrance and exit.</p> <p>“I guess I thought this would be more fun,” Flemming offered, unable to keep the sheepishness out of his voice.</p> <p>Terry thought for a moment. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Flemming’s powers seemed fun, and the rest of the activities in the park did mean there was more to talk about.</p> <p>“I agree,” they said tentatively.</p> <p>Flemming gave their hand a squeeze.</p> <hr/> <p>Eventually, they grew tired and settled for Terry’s idea of having a stakeout. They had plenty of fun in the meantime, though.</p> <p>They went on rides, ate lunch together, and even played games. Terry won a giant stuffed tiger for Flemming. It would barely fit in Flemming’s backseat. Hopefully, Clemmons wouldn’t drool on it.</p> <p>The time came for the day to end. Flemming, Terry, and a very unconscious Clemmons were at Terry’s place.</p> <p>Flemming walked Terry to the door.</p> <p>“I suppose this is good-bye,” Flemming said somberly.</p> <p>“I suppose it is,” Terry replied coolly.</p> <p>“Thank you for your help and everything. I couldn’t have done this without you, and… I had a lot of fun. I hope you did too,” Flemming said.</p> <p>“I did,” Terry said.</p> <p>“If there’s anything I can do to repay you, just let me know, okay?”</p> <p>After a moment of contemplation, Terry said, “Actually, I wouldn’t mind having a handful of those amnesiac things.”</p> <p>Flemming burst out laughing.</p> <p>Terry stood stock still, wondering if they’d made a mistake.</p> <p>“No, sadly, I can’t do that. I’m not really supposed to have them myself to be honest, but I get away with it because of my condition, just in case. The Foundation won’t let anyone try to reverse engineer them,” Flemming said.</p> <p><em>That’s a shame</em>, Terry thought. <em>Those would have been perfect for work.</em></p> <p>But if not that…</p> <p>Terry asked, “Can we do this again sometime, then?”</p> <p>Flemming was caught off guard, but his surprise quickly turned into a grin. “Of course,” he said.</p> <p>“Good,” Terry said.</p> <p>After a moment’s hesitation, Flemming went in for a kiss.</p> <p>Terry didn’t try to stop him.</p> <p>Eventually, they recovered from shock and kissed back, pleasantly surprised.</p> <p><em>Definitely doing this again</em>, they both thought.</p> <p><strong>Thanks to <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aleph-null" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3745522); return false;"><img alt="Aleph-Null" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3745522&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728312912" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3745522)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aleph-null" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3745522); return false;">Aleph-Null</a></span> for the pairing! Check out their stuff!</strong></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/qualitytime">Quality Time</a>" by Flopmind, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/qualitytime">https://scpwiki.com/qualitytime</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Terry woke up at 1:44 PM on Thursday. Normally, that would be late, even by Terry’s standards, but they had a night job to prepare for. Terry ate some leftovers that would have passed for decent Italian if it had been fresh and got to work. They decided to check over their job details and their first conversation with their new friend over breakfast. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] +++ (593)444-6889 [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Hey is this the hitman?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]I prefer the term assassin, but yes.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]...[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Right, the code: potato[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Okay. Here’s the job: Your target is suffering from some sort of anomalous pathogen, but I’ve judged the risk of this pathogen spreading to you to be low, so you don’t need to worry.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]My client reached out to me after this individual killed their son.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]My research suggests the target has highly potent offensive capabilities that annihilate matter at the molecular level via touch. Whether this ability can be used to block bullets or expel poisons is currently unknown.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]I’ve emailed you a photo of the target and likely locations for them to visit in the coming days.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]Pay is ten grand upon confirmation of death.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]Is this acceptable?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Yes.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Very well. Update me as needed.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] The conversation was one of Terry’s favorite ways to start a friendship. It even included a bonus friend who was too shy to talk to Terry themself, making three new friends total. They had asked to keep in touch and even offered more money than [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-assassination-of-tarrare\|the usual]]]. //Were they worried about me? Or perhaps intimidated?// The thought made Terry happy either way. And the other friend with the money, they were certainly worried about Terry, but this wasn’t Terry's first time. They’ll come to trust Terry to do their job soon enough. The concern was nice though; it made Terry feel all rumbly inside, or perhaps that was food poisoning. It was difficult to tell sometimes. The last of the new friendships probably wouldn’t last. Friendships were great but could be exhausting for Terry, and they had been hired to kill this one, after all. It was kind of nice that those types were short. The last new friend was an elementary school teacher named Julia Pennrose whose fiancé had recently gone missing. After looking into the new friend-target’s habits, social media, and financial activity (it was important to be thorough and caring in friendship), Terry noticed something. Although her credit card was inactive at the moment, Julia had withdrawn a reasonably large amount of cash at a local ATM. Based on her gas purchases from the previous months and the amount of cash she had, Terry determined the most likely places to hide out were either with a local family member or at a hotel. Time to start searching. ---- Researcher Yusuf Flemming was trying to track down a lead. An instance of [[[SCP-213]]] had emerged, but the Foundation had yet to make the connection. Flemming himself had been going through a stack of potentially anomalous crime reports for an unrelated reason, and he happened to notice that the time of the victim’s disappearance coincided with a fire alarm. Afterwards, a little research into the background of the alleged kidnapper and the victim allowed him to deduce that intentional foul play, especially kidnapping or the disposal of a body, was unlikely. This was it; this was his ticket to promotion. He just needed to once more prove himself capable of the light field work researchers were required to perform. Then, he could put that [[[SCP-5738\|embarrassing incident]]] behind him, receive a promotion, and finally get his career back on track. Flemming had managed to track the target’s general area by accessing the city’s traffic cameras, but narrowing the search down further had proven difficult. The target was in a bad part of town, which meant fewer advantages like security cameras, even on the civilian side of things. Should he try putting out an APB to the local police? No, they were already looking for her, and even if Flemming helped them narrow the search, then he would only be trading their safety for nothing but a headache. Managing the skip might get easier, but it would cause an incident and cost more resources. More importantly, it would cost him the promotion, and that couldn’t happen. Was it time to show his hand? He’d done a good job at tracking the target to a small area. The victim had a few nearby family members, however, and cheap motels were in abundance here. //No//, he decided, //the area might be physically small, but there were too many viable locations.// No one was going to be impressed with his work if he made an MTF search a dozen locations in a manhunt. He didn’t even have concrete evidence that a skip was involved. He trusted his conclusions, but, ultimately, he couldn’t bring the Foundation in without something concrete. His search had to continue. He just needed time, and time was always on his side these days. He was staying in one of the cheap motels that littered the area. It had questionably thin walls, but it lay perfectly in the epicenter of his search parameters, so Flemming could hardly complain. His target was likely trying to remain low for now, and he would get an alert if her location was uncovered by the police so there was no need to rush. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He resolved to get some rest for now and continue his search in the morning. He settled into his bed after layering a blanket from his car on top of it. He also made sure to stay towards the head of the bed, because he’d seen a cockroach crawl out from under the foot of it earlier. Eventually, fears of vermin were replaced by dreams of career advancement, and he fell asleep. He awoke a few hours later to a scream and a flash of light. ---- It wasn’t until 6:30 in the evening that Terry left their house. They had deliberately waited for two reasons: First, targets were easier to track down at night, as they tended to move around less. Second, Terry wanted rush hour to be over before hitting the road. After making it over to the correct area, Terry quickly managed to find the right location. They had tracked down the license plate number of the target’s rental, and Terry had managed to spot it at the first motel, one at the dead center of their search area. Good thing too, meeting a friend’s parents on the first day sounded stressful. After a lovely conversation with the concierge, Terry had acquired three things: the target’s room number, a dead witness, and a countdown until the police got involved. Terry’s silent pistol had forestalled that clock, but police involvement was inevitable at this point. After quickly and quietly making their way to the target’s motel room, Terry put their ear to the door. Soft, steady breathing met Terry’s ears, and it sounded like the only breathing in the room. The target should be alone. Good, that’ll make it easier to get to know them before they’re shot. Terry confirmed the room number and unlocked it with the skeleton key stolen from the main office. Just as Terry prepared to open the door, a scream rang out from the room, quickly followed by a flash of bright light. ---- Julia Pennrose had been having the worst week of her life. First, she had become deathly ill and hospitalized only for the doctor’s to find nothing. Then, she began to feel better almost instantly and was accused of lying for attention by her fiancé's parents. Next, she and her fiancé, also a teacher at her school, had gotten into a fight that ended in what she could only conceive as being struck down by God. From there, she grieved briefly before necessity took hold of her reasoning. She had packed up and left, unsure of what else to do. The fire alarm had made getting out of the building easy since her class had been at lunch, but beyond that she had no clue what to do. She eventually settled on running and hiding in a shitty motel while she figured out a plan. Only, things hadn’t settled down after that. She fell asleep from sheer emotional exhaustion eventually. A couple hours later, however, she woke up screaming in a sudden burst of pain. Her hand hurt like hell! After she had calmed down enough to get her phone for light, she saw that the tips of her fingers were blackened with… rot? It’s like only the extremities of her hand, the parts closest to the head of her bed, had died. Was this another act of God? Or was it an infection? Oh no… the moment she had thought of a possible infection, her entire body began to drain of stamina and heat up. The effect continued building and building until eventually her entire right hand disintegrated in a flash of light. She screamed again as her dominant hand faded from existence. ---- Flemming took a moment to recover from shock before leaping into action. He immediately rushed outside to see what was going on. Something felt off to him as he scrambled over, but he couldn’t identify what it was. Regardless, he needed to check things out. He saw the neighboring door ajar and ran toward it. He entered the room only to see a placid individual standing over a blonde woman. The woman looked familiar… It was Miss Pennrose! His target! Her screaming had dulled to a pitiful whine, and the cause of her current stress was clear: her right hand was gone, and now her wrist was bleeding out. The deadened remains of the hand lay between Flemming and the bed. He recognized the damage immediately: sudden onset necrosis. It was a terribly rare sort of injury, but Flemming had grown familiar with it. His condition had a habit of causing it when he became careless. That’s what had been bothering him! Over the past couple years as an instance of [[[SCP-5738\|SCP-5738-1]]], Flemming had identified the trigger for his episodes of stopped time: stress. Waking up to screaming and flashing lights should have been more than enough to immediately trigger his anomalous properties. For it not to have been triggered could only mean one thing: it had recently deactivated. His episodes usually happened one to three times in a twenty-four hour period on an average, low-stress day. It could activate more frequently in a day if something stressful, like a containment breach, occurred but one thing never changed: he always had at least thirty minutes of normal time after an episode. In short, Flemming had just had an episode and caused the necrosis on this woman’s hand. When time had stopped for Flemming, it had done so in an area just barely wide enough to include most of her fingers’ mass. “Who are you?” the figure in the shadows suddenly spoke firmly and with authority. Oh right, he had forgotten about them. ---- Terry was very confused. That was fairly normal since Terry’s social skills were “abysmal,” and “out of touch with reality,” and “a violent perversion of human connection”, and all the other mean but slightly true things court officials had said in Terry’s teenage years. This was extra confusing for Terry though, because it was about injuries, a topic Terry was well-versed in. How had the woman’s hand gone dead like that? Why had her own hand been blown off? Why was she still fussing so much after a whole ten seconds of pain? This friend might be a bit too dramatic. Time to end things. It was then that another figure entered the room. He had short hair and a big beard, reminiscent of obsidian in color and it paired well with his caramel skin, or at least, Terry thought it did. They had never really understood what made someone look good or not. His eyes were large; the kind Terry’s social cue tutors would call expressive and maybe soft? Words like that were always difficult for Terry. Regardless, the man looked nice enough to Terry. Was this another friend? It’s important to introduce yourself when making friends. Terry remembered being told to put their best foot forward when meeting people. Did that mean they had already failed with the lady friend on the bed? It was too dark to see anyone’s shoes in the room, and they had already fed her the poison pill as a painkiller. Terry was pretty sure pain stopped when you died, after all. //No, don't get distracted. Introduce yourself//, Terry thought. “Who are you?” Terry said louder than they meant to. Introductions would be easier if they went first, they had decided. ---- Flemming introduced himself after a moment’s hesitation, “Flemming, Yusuf Flemming. Researcher for… doesn’t matter.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, keeping his voice deliberately calm and quiet. Terry thought this man was very nice and polite. He had introduced himself using all the rules Terry had studied and immediately returned the favor, showing an interest in Terry. Now that they had more time, Terry could see that Flemming’s clothes were thrown together and ruffled up. Oh nice, Terry hated worrying about clothes too. All they had was they’re lucky tank top and jeans for the cool spring night. This was good. Having things in common was good. Maybe Terry didn’t need Julia, after all. Terry stepped out into the light. Flemming finally got a good look at the stranger. From what little he could see of the figure, they were best described as a hot mess. While they were a bit unkempt, their appearance was certainly appealing in a fluid way that could never be truly portrayed in artwork. Flemming unintentionally paused for a moment to examine them further as they approached, his eyes lingering a beat longer than was appropriate. Terry approached their new friend with their hand outstretched. Their right hand. They had gotten it right this time. “I’m Terry,” they said, making sure to give their new friend a big smile as they were taught. Flemming shook Terry’s hand, even though they had a malevolent grin on their face. They were clearly enjoying the demise of the skip, why else would someone smile in this situation? “Is she going to live?” he couldn’t help but ask. “No,” Terry responded, “I’m finished with them.” “You don’t sound concerned,” Flemming replied. “I’m not. It’s what I came here for, after all,” Terry supplied nonchalantly. This was nice. Talking about your day with a friend after work is nice, they decided. “She’ll be dead in minutes after the pill I gave her begins to dissolve.” Thankfully, the whiny former friend was too self-absorbed to hear Terry’s comment. What had they seen in her anyway? “I see,” Flemming slowly replied. Flemming was having trouble taking things in. The whimpering skip he could no longer capture alive. The relaxed attitude of the stranger known as Terry. The ease with which they had killed. Their delicate yet firm hand, their fragrant but messy hair, and their impeccably cute face. Who was this person? Why didn’t they seem concerned with Flemming? Why was he more worried about them than his lost promotion? It was all so confusing. Terry had more masculine features of course, but Flemming was inevitably more drawn to certain aspects of Terry’s appearance due to his preferences. “We should get out of here,” Terry said. “Right…” Flemming said, shaking himself out of his embarrassing freeze-up. The Global Occult Coalition. That’s who Terry had to be working for. No one else would simply neutralize a skip and walk away, and Terry had to be good if they were doing so alone and in civilian-wear no less. If Flemming had the good fortune to not get on their bad side, especially when his powers were down, then he wasn’t going to question his luck. However.. Did they know he worked for the Foundation? His little slip-up earlier hadn’t been subtle, but he had to be sure. “I work for the Foundation,” he stated plainly and came to a halt. Terry turned around to meet their new friend’s eyes after they had stopped hearing footsteps. Matching up his expression to their flashcard practice was difficult with his beard, but they thought he looked… concerned? Maybe guilty? Terry wasn’t sure why, but that was nothing unusual. More importantly, it seemed significant to Yusuf so they had to say something, right? What would someone with empathy do? Terry eventually settled on a simple, “I understand.” “Ah, I see,” Flemming said with a gulp. “Then, you understand I was here for the anomaly back there, yes? I… My organization was set to capture her. Does that…?” He wanted to ask “Does that mean you have to kill me?” but he couldn’t make himself say it. He wanted to redeem himself with successful field work, but Terry's type of field work wasn’t what he had in mind. That wasn’t the job of a researcher. No, this type of field work was best left to someone more… expendable. Alright, that was a bad way of putting it. Someone willing to risk their life in combat, really. It wasn’t the MTFs fault that meant expendability. When Terry saw Yusuf pause, they added, “I don’t see how that matters.” It was the honest truth. They had already killed the friend, no, former friend, they had needed to. Any extra friends made along the way were great but didn’t need to get killed. Terry was confident they could find another activity to do while they hung out. Flemming breathed a sigh of relief at that. Terry thought that was a good sign. It reminded them of their old friend, [[[SCP-913\|Mr. Hungry]]]. That made Terry glad. It would’ve made Terry happy, but that seemed like a lot of energy to put into emotion. It was then that Terry’s train of thought was interrupted. They had gotten another text. Terry had recently sent a picture of Julia suffering but not dead. Terry didn’t want to be here when the body went radioactive after all. Oh right, they had to get out of here before that happened. Terry grabbed their buddy Yusuf’s hand and led them away while checking their phone. It was time for another job. ---- Flemming wanted to ask more questions, as a researcher was wont to do, but he was taken aback and a little embarrassed by Terry’s actions. It was partially due to their straightforward and unapologetic, though not unwelcome, physical contact, but it was also the complete 180 they had just done. Terry had an anomaly for Flemming. Apparently, they had just gotten an assignment involving yet another skip of the same type. Could this be some sort of outbreak? Maybe even an invasion of some sort? Impossible to say, but Flemming was told, in no uncertain terms, that he could take the entity into custody. Terry, on the other hand, had just gotten another job to send two similarly anomalous targets “Gently into the night.” Terry thought it was odd to hire an assassin to do this instead of a nurse or something, but when they mentioned it to Yusuf, he seemed interested in taking the lead here. Terry supposed it didn’t matter where their new friends went to sleep, so it might as well be at Yusuf’s Foundation place if he was offering. It’s important to build trust with friends, right? And judging by how Yusuf kept giving little squeezes to Terry’s hand, it seemed like he trusted them. It would be rude not to return the favor, right? So, they gave Yusuf a bright smile and nodded to his request. Shortly afterwards, they were on their way to catch a new anomaly in Flemming’s car since Terry didn’t have one. Two minutes later, the kinetic energy from [[[SCP-3521\|millions of bananas]]] exploded from Julia Pennrose’s stomach, leveling most of the motel as it ended her suffering. ---- After resting for the night in some proper hotel rooms, the two got ready for a new day and met for coffee and a continental breakfast. “So…” Flemming started awkwardly, “how does the GOC want to handle this?” Terry didn’t know anything about the Global Occult Coalition. Their knowledge of what lay past the veil extended little beyond it existing. Friendship on the other hand, Terry totally understood, and it was so great that Flemming was already giving Terry nicknames. They should respond positively. “The GOC believes your plan is acceptable,” Terry replied. Talking in the third person was new, but Terry couldn’t think of another way to acknowledge the sudden nickname. Flemming smiled gratefully in response. //Successful interaction//, Terry thought. “Very well,” Flemming responded, beaming, “I’m grateful, especially after you helped uh… clean up last night,” he finished sheepishly. Terry didn’t see what the big deal was, erasing evidence of their involvement would’ve had to happen anyway. No reason not to include their new friend in the coverage. “Of course, it was no trouble,” they said smoothly. “Great. And you’re sure you want to accompany me today?” “Sure.” “Wonderful,” Flemming said. He decided to get a little bold and reached for Terry’s hand, fingers interlocking. “Can I count on you to have my back?” Terry was more confused than surprised by the physical contact. They didn’t mind; in fact, they found it rather novel and amusing. They also thought it a nice milestone in their friendship, and that made them happy. More a feeling of content than Flemming’s excitement, but it was a form of happiness nonetheless. ---- Terry’s friend, the one who had hired them, had managed to investigate further and discover another instance of [[[SCP-213]]]. They wanted them eliminated because it was “bad for business.” Apparently, this person was likely responsible for “infecting” Julia Pennrose. The first target was a Mr. Robert Clemmons, a divorced bartender whose twin daughters were in Miss Pennrose’s class. They had met a month earlier for a parent teacher conference, the first one that his ex-wife was unable to attend, allowing him to participate instead. Clemmons had apparently mastered restraining his abilities, and it was only a case from two years ago that allowed Terry’s friend to make the connection. The plan was for Flemming and Terry to follow him, wait for him to be alone, and then knock him out. Terry offered to use chloroform on him, because of course Terry had that on their person, but Flemming thought normal amnestics would be sufficient. It would also erase any memory of them following the target before his disappearance. The problem, however, was the location. Clemmons had decided that, today of all days, was the perfect time to take his new boyfriend out to an amusement park. First, Flemming and Terry got cotton candy, purely because stalking their prey required it, of course. And because they were being so purely practical, Flemming bought only stick of cotton candy, for the two of them to share, to save money. No ulterior motives abound. Next, the two of them were utterly forced onto one of the rollercoasters, because waiting at the exit would be too suspicious, naturally. Flemming was enjoying himself and going slow, because he didn’t want to make Terry feel torn between continuing their mission and indulging his romantic interests. So he went one step at a time, making sure they consented appropriately along the way while analyzing their receptiveness. Terry meanwhile was having a great time! This was what they always wanted in a friendship! Spending the day together with one friend while learning about another was a dream come true for them. Terry thought the cotton candy was a bit annoying, but seeing it caught inside Flemming’s facial hair and hearing him call himself “Candybeard” was worth it. Inside jokes were the best. Riding a rollercoaster was another new experience for Terry. Waiting in line was nice when you had a friend with you, and while Terry was normally somewhat neutral about holding hands with Flemming, it made more sense to do so once you were on a dangerous rollercoaster, so Terry initiated this time. It was for their friend’s safety, after all, and it seemed to make him happy. They took two isolated seats at the back while their friend-target was up front, and the ride began. This ride was one that started by slowly climbing a big incline. It must have been scary because Yusuf kept giving little squeezes to Terry’s hand. Terry squeezed back for solidarity even though they weren’t scared. A fall from this height would probably kill them without any time for pain, so there wasn’t anything to be scared of, in their opinion. Flemming was excited, both at the prospect of promotion and in general with how the day was going. Which is why he was so disappointed when, at the peak of the initial incline on the ride, his ability activated, bringing the flow of time to a grinding halt for most of reality. Terry was confused and not by people, for once. Right at the peak of the ride, everything suddenly went dark. No light was making it to Terry’s eyes. All the background noise of the busy park was gone. Only touch and the sound of breathing were available to Terry’s senses. “Terry, are you alright?” Flemming asked. Good, he was there too. “I’m fine,” Terry said. “You?” “Also fine,” Flemming supplied. “Cool.” “Yeah,” Flemming added lamely. “Hey, Yusuf?” “Yeah, Terry?” “What the fuck is happening?” “Ah… right. Technically I’m… not supposed to tell you that…” “...” “...” “...” Terry was busy digesting the circumstances and deciding how to react. They also respected their friend’s inability to tell them what was going on, but they were bad at improvising, especially in conversation. Therefore, they were merely thinking hard about what they should do. Flemming, on the other hand, mistook Terry’s silence for stark disappointment, and, had he been able to see Terry’s blank expression, it would have only reinforced the false notion. Between that and his hopes for the future, he broke the rules in disappointingly short amount of time. The awkward silence didn’t help. “I can stop time, but I have almost no control over it, and it’s limited in space to about half a meter around me, and we might be in slight danger of running low on breathable air given our movements are restricted,” Flemming delivered breathlessly. “You should uh… probably scooch over closer to me. Is your whole body inside?” Terry digested this and realized that, no, their left arm was numb. They scooched over to the right quickly, obliterating any remaining notion of personal space left in the cramped seats. Terry couldn’t think of much else to do. They were less familiar with this than their new companion apparently was. The only idea they had was to search for a manual release for their seatbelts, but even if the pair managed to find them, using them probably wasn’t wise. Eventually, Terry remembered to speak again. “Okay. What’s this about running low on air?” “Oh, ah, time is only flowing in a small area around us, which basically means that air isn’t flowing as well as normal, only flowing at all inside this little bubble of mine. Normally, this isn’t much of a problem since the effect is centered on me, and I can usually just move around to get fresh air, but in rare cases like this, we’re in danger of running low on oxygen,” Flemming explained. “I see.” “Yeah…” “So what do we do?” Terry asked. “I always keep an emergency capsule or two of pure oxygen, but we probably won’t need to use them. Just stick close to me and move how I say, and we’ll be able to conserve oxygen,” Flemming continued. “Alright…” Terry said. They moved closer and put their right arm around Flemming. “Like this?” Flemming paused for a moment, flustered, “Yes, that will do nicely.” So they cuddled. After a beat, Terry asked, “how long will this last?” “Well technically, time is stopped so-” “No,” Terry interrupted. That line had tested their patience. “How long will this last for us?” “The average is about thirty minutes, but it could range anywhere from about twenty to forty minutes,” Flemming replied, regaining an appropriatly serious attitude for the situation. Ten or so minutes passed in solemn silence. Well, solemn for Flemming really. Terry recovered from being upset rather quickly. They were just content with silence. Eventually, Flemming directed the pair of them to move as far left as possible to facilitate airflow, and the silence was broken. Flemming began engaging Terry in small talk. It was nothing special. How had they been enjoying the day? It was good? That’s good. How did they like the weather? It was alright? Alright. Eventually, Terry grew comfortable enough to start asking questions that Flemming hadn’t asked first. “How would you like to handle the target after this? What about their partner? How do you plan to extract them?” Flemming was a little disappointed by the professional turn in the conversation, but he tried to keep things pleasant enough. The problem was, however, that Flemming hadn’t thought much about these things. Originally with Julia Pennrose, he had been planning to locate the first target and simply notify the Foundation. Now that he had Terry on his side, he had thought they could help him impress his superiors further by establishing capture. Although Terry was more of a field expert than Flemming, they were still letting Flemming lead, at his request no less. Between his inexperience and his distracting himself with Terry, he wasn’t prepared with any details. “Follow them out to the parking lot, give the pair amnestics, and then kidnap the target?” Flemming half-asked, looking for approval. Metaphorically looking, of course; he still couldn’t see a thing. Terry replied, “I see. Why are we doing this instead of simply waiting for them in the parking lot?” Flemming was rather stumped at that. The idea simply hadn’t occurred to him. Terry was right, of course, that would be easier because the amusement park had only one entrance and exit. “I guess I thought this would be more fun,” Flemming offered, unable to keep the sheepishness out of his voice. Terry thought for a moment. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Flemming’s powers seemed fun, and the rest of the activities in the park did mean there was more to talk about. “I agree,” they said tentatively. Flemming gave their hand a squeeze. ---- Eventually, they grew tired and settled for Terry’s idea of having a stakeout. They had plenty of fun in the meantime, though. They went on rides, ate lunch together, and even played games. Terry won a giant stuffed tiger for Flemming. It would barely fit in Flemming’s backseat. Hopefully, Clemmons wouldn’t drool on it. The time came for the day to end. Flemming, Terry, and a very unconscious Clemmons were at Terry’s place. Flemming walked Terry to the door. “I suppose this is good-bye,” Flemming said somberly. “I suppose it is,” Terry replied coolly. “Thank you for your help and everything. I couldn’t have done this without you, and… I had a lot of fun. I hope you did too,” Flemming said. “I did,” Terry said. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, just let me know, okay?” After a moment of contemplation, Terry said, “Actually, I wouldn’t mind having a handful of those amnesiac things.” Flemming burst out laughing. Terry stood stock still, wondering if they’d made a mistake. “No, sadly, I can’t do that. I’m not really supposed to have them myself to be honest, but I get away with it because of my condition, just in case. The Foundation won’t let anyone try to reverse engineer them,” Flemming said. //That’s a shame//, Terry thought. //Those would have been perfect for work.// But if not that… Terry asked, “Can we do this again sometime, then?” Flemming was caught off guard, but his surprise quickly turned into a grin. “Of course,” he said. “Good,” Terry said. After a moment’s hesitation, Flemming went in for a kiss. Terry didn’t try to stop him. Eventually, they recovered from shock and kissed back, pleasantly surprised. //Definitely doing this again//, they both thought. *Thanks to [[user Aleph-Null]] for the pairing! Check out their stuff!** [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Flopmind]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-29T12:44:00	[ "_licensebox", "romcon2023-unofficial", "tale" ]	Quality Time - SCP Foundation	11	[ "the-assassination-of-tarrare", "scp-213", "scp-5738", "scp-913", "scp-3521", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon" ]	[]	1447965444	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/qualitytime
raccoon-dog-hunt	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><a href="/scp-5620">Edward</a> didn’t like talking to people. At least not having a one-on-one, in person sorta talk. He didn’t use to be this way, of course; it may seem like a lie looking at him now, but he used to be the life of every party. Most parties, anyway. At some point in his life, he turned away from all that and focused on what really mattered: Being an annoying prick online and crafting the social equivalent of mail pipe bombs for cheap laughs and the like.</p> <p>Objectively speaking, it wasn’t a positive life change. His slowly decaying body, propelled by a rather poor diet and even worse sleeping schedule was living proof of it. He enjoyed it, though. While he didn’t have an issue before, it was so much easier to speak with people through the monitor screen, rather than by standing right by them. It was easier to find people who were into the same shit than you as well. Not that he gave too much thought to it, but anomalous hacktivism wasn’t exactly a popular hobby. Barely even a niche one. But there were people out there with the same interests. People who actually looked up to him, even.</p> <p>Of course, everything has its pros and cons. Sure, the guys over at GAW were cool, but it was his third year either at home, with a piece of metal attached to his ankle which would beep whenever he dared step within a mile of a hardware store… Or running away from the authorities, like he had been up til now.</p> <p>Gamers against Weed… Yeah, the name was good, and the people were chill, but they weren’t gonna pull something to free him from jail. Jail, which he thought he could escape by traveling around the globe, but all his plans finally came crashing down in Tokyo, Japan.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em>”Why Japan?”</em></p> <p>Well, that was the million dollars question, no? Edward stared back at the man sitting across him, some poor sap dressed in clothes more akin to cosplay than to an actual law enforcer. Not the weirdest attire he’d seen at his time behind Foundation bars. The place in Philly had some really odd weirdos.</p> <p>“Wanted to visit Akiba. Is that so wrong?” Edward replied, making a smirk that was meant to be of smugness, or defiance, but ended up not looking like anything. The cop gave him a glance, before continuing.</p> <p>“Well, it’s a beautiful place.” The cop muttered, inclined towards Edward, his hands intertwining. “The maid cafes, the arcades, it’s a pretty touristic place… Of course, you were there for the electric district, no?”</p> <p>Silence. He wasn’t gonna answer this bastard’s questions. He knew protocol didn’t apply to these psychos, but he wasn’t gonna make their job any easier if possible.</p> <p>The cop continued, rifling through papers he had on hand. “You’re not supposed to get anywhere near electronics stores.”</p> <p>“I’m not supposed to be anywhere outside America.” Edward replied, smirking. Sure, he just said he wouldn’t answer his questions, but the rule had a few ‘buts’: If you get to be an ass about it, then surely they could be bent a bit.</p> <p>The cop sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, fuck it. Change of plans.”</p> <p>Here comes the torture, Edward thought, but the cop’s next actions surprised him: The man let his shoulders drop, assuming a more relaxed posture, before continuing.</p> <p>“So here’s the thing: SCiP’s Database considers you a wanted criminal. Something about ‘hacking into machinery through anomalous means’ which… I dunno what that exactly entails. Feels like someone who has never touched a computer wrote this.” The cop muttered, dropping the papers so that Edward could see. He gave the papers with all his personal information and ‘crimes against humanity’ no more than a glance: This had to be some sort of psychological trick, and if so, he wasn’t falling for it.</p> <p>“Point is, we’re dealing with a lot more problems than some kid who modded his Super Famicom so that it can realistically kill people on the screen, or hacked into a bank’s database so that he can send Bernie Sanders memes that give you diarrhea.”</p> <p>“The Sanders memes and the diarrhea memes were two different shitposts, actually.” Edward felt the need to clarify. The cop sighed.</p> <p>“Point is, we don’t have the time nor the resources to go after a wannabe technomancer.”</p> <p>“Wannabe?!” Ok, now that pissed him off. “If you wanna insult me, at least use an actual fucking term, and not those D&D names you sociopaths love so much.”</p> <p>“Well, you don’t really have a profession to go by. Never finished your studies.” The cop muttered, collecting the papers to give them another cursory glance.</p> <p>“Didn’t really need them, now, did I?” Another smug smirk.</p> <p>“You didn’t, no. It’s impressive how much you’ve done without any proper formal education, anomalous or otherwise. <a href="/scp-5340">People like you</a> don’t make it this far.” The cop admitted.</p> <p>“And now you’re praising me?” Edward raised an eyebrow. Had a bad feeling about this one.</p> <p>“I’ll get straight to the point, mister Nguyen.” — First time Edward’s been addressed as a ‘mister’. Huh. — “We don’t have the time to deal with people like you, because we don’t have people like you among our ranks.”</p> <p>A pause. Edward wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he still did the best he could. “S-sorry?”</p> <p>“I’ll introduce myself.” The cop muttered, taking off his cap. He had bright yellow eyes. “I’m this place’s Head of Security, and I am giving you a job opportunity.”</p> <p>He still couldn’t grasp this change of events. “Wait, w-why?”</p> <p>“Well, you see mister Nguyen, the truth of the matter is that we have a protocol to follow, and the protocol says we have to return you to the Americas, where you’ll be prosecuted, and most likely, be properly contained in a facility just like this one. Your days of enjoying ready meals in front of the TV with nothing but an ankle tracker to worry about are over, mister.” The head of security explained, placing his hands on the table. “You’ll be put in a low-security prison, which by Foundational standards isn’t low-security at all. It’s also not fair. Staff do not exactly treat people like you ‘fairly’ or ‘humanely’ so… I don’t think you have a bright future, or one at all now.”</p> <p>“Are- Are you threatening me?”</p> <p>“I am being honest with you, Edward.” The man sighed. “You fucked up. You didn’t just run away from us, you escaped the country you were limited to, and used anomalous means to do so, possibly endangering normalcy on your way here to… To what, start a new life? Just come visit?”</p> <p>Edward bit his lip. He needed to regain control. “… Does it matter, <em>mister</em>?”</p> <p>“… No, no it doesn’t. What does matter is the second option. You see, mister Nguyen, we at this site do things a little different from other places.” The head of security began explaining. “For one, we don’t really believe people like you deserve to rot in jail. We can’t afford to have people like you rot in jail. Thus, the job proposition.”</p> <p>Silence reigned again. Edward didn’t know what to respond; he did not like any of the options here, but it was clear that he would have to choose to work for these pigs. Having strings attached to his arms and legs, unable to have full control of his life was something he was used to, thanks to his years under Foundational surveillance, so working for them wouldn’t exactly be much different. The idea of working for the bastards terrorizing his friends though… Now that he wasn’t a fan of.</p> <p>But did he really have any other choice? What was he supposed to do? Take a bullet for the team, and ‘rot in jail’, like the cop in front of him described?</p> <p>“I know this feels like entrapment. That’s because it is. However, trust me that I am and will be as fair as I’m allowed to regarding this job.” The man added. “You will have a salary, and you will have quarters to live in. You will have access to security rooms and laboratories and computer rooms, and most facilities regular personnel are allowed to step into. You will have your own ID badge, and it will have the security clearance of that of people who’ve studied years to get to learn the same things you naturally stumbled upon, and just as naturally mastered.”</p> <p>“Stop buttering me up.”</p> <p>“I am not. We wouldn’t be hunting you down if you weren’t good at what you do.” The man reclined on his chair, done with the ‘buttering up’. “So? What do you say? Do you want to go back to living in a cell, except now it’s smaller and stricter, or do you want to become part of my security team?”</p> <p>‘What do you say?’ The fuck did he think he was gonna say? Oh yeah, I would love to be humiliated by your organization even more than before. What a lovely thing that would be!</p> <p>Edward got up from his seat, making the head of security raise an eyebrow, wondering what would happen next. Gritting his teeth, Edward held the white table with both hands, and finally responded:</p> <p>“When do I start?”</p> <p>The head of security smiled, getting up as well, before stretching out a gloved hand for a handshake.</p> <p>“As soon as possible.” He grinned, and Edward could see his canines, sharp like a wolf’s, his attitude changing to a more casual one. He had Edward by the balls, and they both knew it.</p> <p>Edward didn’t want to, but he returned the handshake, staring at the cop with a mix of contempt and defeat. He had made a deal with the Devil. A devil in the shape of a cop wearing gaudy clothes, an image so strong he could almost see the tail wagging behind the guy.</p> <p>It would take Edward a couple more minutes to realize that the head of security did, in fact, have a tail.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> “Hertz? Really? That was your ‘hacker’ name?”</p> <p>“Your name is literally Outis, the fuck are you judging me for?”</p> <p>“Whatever, man…”</p> <p>The security officer in charge walked away, leaving Edward to attend to his own devices. In this case, the ‘devices’ in question were eight pairs of machinery, some sort of apparatus that allowed for the conversion of free thaumic energy into fake snow pellets, to be put for winter at every indoor garden in the site. Apparently they were for the sake of ‘environmentally aesthetic value’, which made no sense to him. What he did understand was the demonic circuitry used to make the nonsensical make physical, tangible sense. He had used this kind of stuff back home for his attacks against general normalcy, but this was grade-A stuff; of course the Foundation would have better stuff than the kind he would find on his own, or with the help of the GAW people. And of course they would waste it using it on fake snow, him being the handyman for this all.</p> <p>Still, GAW… Wonder how they were all doing… Had anyone wondered where he’d been all this time? It had been a week and a half since he’d been captured by the Foundation, and even longer since he’d decided to flee the country he had been born and raised in.</p> <p>“Hey, buddy, how you doing?”</p> <p>His thoughts on his previous friends were interrupted by a pat on the back, given to him by a woman in her late 30s, sporting a grin that proudly showed off a couple chipped teeth, dirty blonde hair covering half her face, wearing a ‘cop’ outfit that almost seemed like cosplay.</p> <p>This was the head of security. The same person who had gotten him this job, or rather, forced him into it.</p> <p>Turns out they were a shapeshifter.</p> <p>“I’m fine.” Edward muttered, trying not to get distracted. He wasn’t used to people pestering him while he tinkered. These past few days had been really, really hard to adjust to. Not that he would admit it, of course. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”</p> <p>“Well, buddy, you’re still on probation.” An arm wraps around his shoulder. Still not a fan. Made him feel weird. “Gotta make sure you aren’t sending our secrets to your friends over at GAW, or to the Russians, or, I dunno, some doomsday cult.”</p> <p>Edward rolled his eyes, connecting two circuit boards through a pact that was quickly resolved by an IRS (The I stands for <a href="/scp-6607">‘infernal’</a>) representative seventy million years in the past. Fifth machine done; fifteen to go. “Not like I can contact anyone outside of here.”</p> <p>“I’m sure you could if you try hard enough.” The head of security chuckled, letting go of Edward. “I don’t think I should be saying that. I get yelled at enough as is… Don’t need to add onto all that.”</p> <p>The head of security slumped against a wall, materializing a can of beer in their hands. They began drinking from it, as if it was real. Edward knew that it was no more than an illusion, brought into ‘reality’ in the same manner they were able to turn into anyone they wished to.</p> <p>“Life’s so hard sometimes…” They lamented. Edward put his tools down.</p> <p>“Are you done? Have a lot on my hands right now.”</p> <p>“Well, look at mister busy bee over here. Who’d believe a week ago you almost got deported back to uhh… Where was it that you were-”</p> <p>“Philly. Least that’s the last place I’d been grounded to.” Edward muttered, using a rag to clean his hands off the sulfuric ash that sticks to you when working with demonic components.</p> <p>“Right.” The head of security nodded, pretending to know where Philly was, and that Philly wasn’t the actual name of the place. “You threw a tantrum on induction day, and yet look at you now!~”</p> <p>“Yeah, well… What can I say?…” And he meant that. The fuck could he say? He’d sold his soul to the Foundation, of all places, and he regretted it less and less as time went on. It wasn’t a good place, of that he was sure, and some of his peers looked at him with disdain, but there was something exhilarating about being envied. He and them had the same rank, and yet he had come from a place they would consider a slum, no? A pariah, a criminal, and now he stood along those who had studied decades, those who’d cannibalized each other just to stand where he was by being no more than a fugitive. It was in knowing this that he’d found peace in his position. He didn’t need much to survive, but if there was one thing he required to keep going, it was spite.</p> <p>Of course, that was not all. He hated to admit it, but things had improved for him. Things had improved a lot. He had been eating properly at least three times a day because actual food was served here. When was the last time he’d eaten something that hadn’t come out of a plastic container, that didn’t need to be microwaved, or that he hadn’t ordered through Uber?</p> <p>And when it came down to the people here…</p> <p>Another pat on the back. “For real. How are you holding up?”</p> <p>Tch. “You know, just because you’re my ‘parole officer’ or whatever role you’re meant to be, that doesn’t mean you have to like, care about me.”</p> <p>“I’m no parole officer, but I am the one looking after you, and I do care about you.” The head of security explained, Edward remaining silent. They sighed. “I know, I know, easy to say something you would want to hear.” — He didn’t want to hear this. He really didn’t. — “But it’s the truth. You have two guards and an artificial construct making sure you’re not building a bomb or leaking information. I don’t ‘officially’ need to be here and check up on you, make sure you’re ok, see if you need anything and all o’ that.”</p> <p>“Why do you care, then?” Edward asked. This annoyed him, and not only because they were interrupting his work (Which was one of the things he enjoyed the most here, as long as he didn’t think of it as his job.) but also because it didn’t make any sense, so it couldn’t be real. He wasn’t a fan of fake people, like most people.</p> <p>“Well…” Silence. It was weird for the head of security to not know what to say about something. They always seem to be able to babble and babble about anything and everything. They were oddly quiet now, something Edward wasn’t used to, but wasn’t surprised about either. Again, he’d known them for less than a month.</p> <p>“Well?” He pushed.</p> <p>“Do I really need a reason to?” The head of security finally replied, hands on their hips. “You’re fun to talk to, and, well, you don’t really talk to anyone else here so I worry. It’s just…” A hand to their blonde hair, scratching their scalp, allowing Edward to notice the nondescript animal ears they usually hid under either a hat or under lots of hair. “I care because I care. Again, do I really need a reason to wanna be around?”</p> <p>“… I guess you don’t…”</p> <p>So was it pity, then? Is that it? Edward would have faced them again, kept on with the talk, but now a knot had formed in his throat. Care, huh… He still didn’t believe it. It still made no sense, none at all, but he could feel the platitudes moving, ever so slightly.</p> <p>God, he was really desperate for any kind of connection, huh? He wished he could laugh at how sad this had all become.</p> <p>“Still, I have free time. A lot of it. You could bother me when I’m not trying to fix the shit you’ve told me to fix?”</p> <p>“Oh. Oh yeah, that’d make a lot of sense, huh.”</p> <p>Maybe the head of security was just an idiot. Yeah, that was probably it. It would make a lot of things make sense. Not all, of course, but most of it.</p> <p>… And maybe he was an idiot too. Something deep inside his chest told him so.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Edward sat at a bench, drinking what appeared to be turpentine. He’d been told it was ‘one cup sake’, which was the Japanese answer to what’s the cheapest drink one could possibly manufacture. He didn’t like it, but it helped fade away at the right speed; not too slow as with normal drinks, and not too fast as with strong zero, and without the splitting headaches. He needed to work in the morn; he wasn’t gonna drink that citrus death everyone here loved so much.</p> <p>It wasn’t long before the head of security arrived, sitting next to him, a can of beer in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. “Hey.”</p> <p>“Hey.” Edward wasn’t even gonna attempt to shoo them away. That ship had sailed a while ago. He’d live with this raccoon-tailed tapeworm for the time being.</p> <p>“You know, the indoor gardens are pretty nice at night, but it’s damn cold here. Why don’t we go back to the party?” The Head of Security asked him, taking a sip. Edward sighed. Compulsory events sucked, and they sucked even more when he hated everyone there. Their gaze hadn’t changed: He was a prisoner in all ways but in title.</p> <p>“I’m used to the cold.” That was such a cringe line, fuck. It was true, though. Winter in Philly was awfully cold.</p> <p>“Yeah, and people get used to pain and cruelty. That doesn’t make it good.” The head of security was quick to pass the coffee to Edward, who looked at it, before turning to his ‘nanny’. “Take it.”</p> <p>“… Thanks.” The words left his mouth like he was being strangled for them. As soon as he took the cup, the sake cup was taken off his hands. Before he could protest or emote in any manner, the head of security downed the thing in one go.</p> <p>“Ugh, this cheap stuff is so bad…”</p> <p>“Uh.”</p> <p>“We’re getting an inspection tomorrow. I’m not having you drunk for that.” They immediately followed that by downing the drink they themselves had brought. “I can be though. The hell are they gonna do, fire me?”</p> <p>“You should be the one having someone look after them.” Edward chuckled at the idea, following it with a better idea: Drinking some of the coffee.</p> <p>“They woulda given up a long time ago.” The head of security chuckled, scratching the back of their head, their sporadic grey hairs shining against the cheap halogen lighting of the garden. “I’m a bit of a pain in the ass, if you haven’t noticed.”</p> <p>“No way, really?…” Another sip of the coffee. Alright, yeah, this was the good stuff. Perfect for tonight.</p> <p>“That’s what my many enemies would like you to believe, anyway.” And with a lame line and a roll of the eyes, the two fell into silence. Snowflakes generated by the machines Edward had fixed (And improved, but who cared about that, right?) covered the dimly lit fake sky, simulating winter pretty well. Well, he thought so anyway. He hadn’t been here long enough to really know what winter in Japan was like.</p> <p>Did you know that a confession under the falling snow is a literary trope? Edward didn’t, but his previous crush used to mention stuff like that. She was part of GAW, another free spirit like himself, who enjoyed tinkering with electronics to bring their full potential. A person so different from himself, that he couldn’t help but feel a sting whenever she spoke, and something warm inside himself whenever something excited her. Her happiness incited his.</p> <p>They say love through a screen isn’t as strong as in person, but they don’t tell you a rejection through the screen hurts just as much.</p> <p>… Where was he going with this? Why was he thinking about this now?</p> <p>“You reminded me of myself, when I was younger…” The head of security muttered briefly, staring at the opposite end of the room.</p> <p>“Hm?” But he knew why he was thinking it. There was no avoiding it now.</p> <p>“You asked me why I cared so much, and, uh, yeah, it’s just… When I was young, I too was given a loaded choice, to either die, or join this place.” They laughed, but neither of the two found their words funny. “And, well, back then I had no one by my side to guide me. No one to care. So I just… I dunno. It wouldn’t have been fair to either you or myself had I not been there to make sure you weren’t…”</p> <p>The head of security trailed off, lost in their own thoughts, unsure if they should be voiced. A better man would push for an answer, to find out whether the trust put unto him was real, or merely the head’s selfish desires, a reaction to seeing themselves reflected in Edward's eyes.</p> <p>A better man wouldn’t have fallen in love with an officer of the organization that ruined his life.</p> <p>“I’m…” <em>Choose your words carefully.</em> “I’m not someone who likes to talk about what’s really on my mind, but uh… I’m grateful. I’m glad you took the time to make sure I didn’t — I don’t know, shiv a guard, hang myself using my shoelaces. Whatever.”</p> <p>“You’re not the type to do any of that. I read your report, remember?” A smile. That damn smile. The kind that could belong to anyone, men or women, man or beast. The kind of smile that, no matter what the body looked like, would always belong to a single person. “You’re better than that.”</p> <p>He was. He knew this. It was still nice to hear. “Am I, now?” But could he fish for more?</p> <p>“What’s gotten into you? By this point you’re a nautical mile away from lil old me. Not fishing for compliments like we’re a sappy couple.” And this was why he didn’t try things he wasn’t familiar with; he gets caught. He could feel the warmth of his own blood flow accelerate. The vessels around his face dilated. It was weird to feel hotter than the coffee he’d been drinking.</p> <p>“Whatever…” Utter defeat. He could not reply in any way that didn’t incriminate him further. And if this was his reaction to mere teasing…</p> <p>“Come on, I’m just messing with you. 冗談, 冗談~” A poke to the cheek only made the blush worse. He wasn’t sober enough for this.</p> <p>Silence reigned again, as head of security wondered if they had pushed a tad too far this time, and Edward wondered if 冗談 meant ‘joke’, the language lessons melting away with the liquor. Finally, the former slapped their knees, tossing the beer and the sake containers into the appropriate bins.</p> <p>The Head of Security turned to Edward. “Ready to return, Edwin? People are gonna get worried.”</p> <p>“Worried about you, yeah.” Edward scoffed, trying not to think too hard about the nickname. “Bet that asshole from Research’ll think I killed you.”</p> <p>“Come on. It’ll at least be warmer than here. You can stand by a corner or something, no?” The head of security grabbed Edward’s hand, trying to get him off his seat. Edward instead grabbed their hand, stopping them in their tracks.</p> <p>“How… How about we just stay here?” Edward bit his lip. That was a move of desperation, not of logic. His past self would have beaten him to shit for that one.</p> <p>“Hm?” The head of security tilts their head, staring at Edward. The reflection upon his eyes told a different story.</p> <p>“I just-” Think. “I just wanna enjoy the weather, as fake as it is. We both know the party sucks so… Can’t we stay like this just a bit longer?”</p> <p>Edward couldn’t put into words what he saw in the Head of Security’s eyes, but they quickly sat down again.</p> <p>“Alright, but just a bit longer. Would suck if we turn up to work tomorrow not only drunk but also sick.” They laughed.</p> <p>“Yeah, that would suck…” Edward muttered under his breath, trying to calm down his nerves, not an easy task as the two were still holding hands, the head of security not letting go of him just yet. Thank god trembling could be attributed to the cold.</p> <p>“… You sure you don’t wanna go in, get another warm drink?” The head of security asked, holding Edward’s hand in front of the two, pointing to the trembling. He shook his head. “Alright…”</p> <p>The halogen lights flickered, and as the fake snow kept on falling, Edward couldn’t help but relish the moment. It was wrong. It felt wrong, but it didn’t matter. Right now, it all felt warm. That’s all that mattered.</p> <p>They say a confession under the falling snow is a narrative trope. He could see why now. He turned to the head of security again. Would he?</p> <p><em>Should he?</em></p> <p>… No, not today. Not yet.</p> <p>He wasn’t ready, and something told him they weren’t either. Dejection hurts. It hurt a lot before, and this one would hurt so much more, he thought.</p> <p>He was fine with how things were now, and he would enjoy it. Fucking up would come later. He had tinkered with the snow machines, he knew how much time he had left for a proper try.</p> <p>So he tightened his grip, reclined back onto the bench, and watched the snow fall.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p>This is a tale for <a href="/romcon">Romcon</a>, featuring my character, Head of Security, and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tyumen" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2951719); return false;"><img alt="Tyumen" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2951719&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052793" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2951719)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tyumen" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2951719); return false;">Tyumen</a></span>'s character, Edward Nguyen. For their take on the pairing, please refer to <strong>[TALE TO BE LINKED HERE]</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/raccoon-dog-hunt">Raccoon Dog Hunt</a>" by Maxyfran73, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/raccoon-dog-hunt">https://scpwiki.com/raccoon-dog-hunt</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> jkuPRgv.png, dS0xQpI.png, donaBjZ.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/maxyfran73" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7498739); return false;"><img alt="Maxyfran73" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7498739&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052793" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7498739)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/maxyfran73" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7498739); return false;">Maxyfran73</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> Own Work</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[[scp-5620\|Edward]]] didn’t like talking to people. At least not having a one-on-one, in person sorta talk. He didn’t use to be this way, of course; it may seem like a lie looking at him now, but he used to be the life of every party. Most parties, anyway. At some point in his life, he turned away from all that and focused on what really mattered: Being an annoying prick online and crafting the social equivalent of mail pipe bombs for cheap laughs and the like. Objectively speaking, it wasn’t a positive life change. His slowly decaying body, propelled by a rather poor diet and even worse sleeping schedule was living proof of it. He enjoyed it, though. While he didn’t have an issue before, it was so much easier to speak with people through the monitor screen, rather than by standing right by them. It was easier to find people who were into the same shit than you as well. Not that he gave too much thought to it, but anomalous hacktivism wasn’t exactly a popular hobby. Barely even a niche one. But there were people out there with the same interests. People who actually looked up to him, even. Of course, everything has its pros and cons. Sure, the guys over at GAW were cool, but it was his third year either at home, with a piece of metal attached to his ankle which would beep whenever he dared step within a mile of a hardware store… Or running away from the authorities, like he had been up til now. Gamers against Weed… Yeah, the name was good, and the people were chill, but they weren’t gonna pull something to free him from jail. Jail, which he thought he could escape by traveling around the globe, but all his plans finally came crashing down in Tokyo, Japan. @@ @@ //”Why Japan?”// Well, that was the million dollars question, no? Edward stared back at the man sitting across him, some poor sap dressed in clothes more akin to cosplay than to an actual law enforcer. Not the weirdest attire he’d seen at his time behind Foundation bars. The place in Philly had some really odd weirdos. “Wanted to visit Akiba. Is that so wrong?” Edward replied, making a smirk that was meant to be of smugness, or defiance, but ended up not looking like anything. The cop gave him a glance, before continuing. “Well, it’s a beautiful place.” The cop muttered, inclined towards Edward, his hands intertwining. “The maid cafes, the arcades, it’s a pretty touristic place… Of course, you were there for the electric district, no?” Silence. He wasn’t gonna answer this bastard’s questions. He knew protocol didn’t apply to these psychos, but he wasn’t gonna make their job any easier if possible. The cop continued, rifling through papers he had on hand. “You’re not supposed to get anywhere near electronics stores.” “I’m not supposed to be anywhere outside America.” Edward replied, smirking. Sure, he just said he wouldn’t answer his questions, but the rule had a few ‘buts’: If you get to be an ass about it, then surely they could be bent a bit. The cop sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, fuck it. Change of plans.” Here comes the torture, Edward thought, but the cop’s next actions surprised him: The man let his shoulders drop, assuming a more relaxed posture, before continuing. “So here’s the thing: SCiP’s Database considers you a wanted criminal. Something about ‘hacking into machinery through anomalous means’ which… I dunno what that exactly entails. Feels like someone who has never touched a computer wrote this.” The cop muttered, dropping the papers so that Edward could see. He gave the papers with all his personal information and ‘crimes against humanity’ no more than a glance: This had to be some sort of psychological trick, and if so, he wasn’t falling for it. “Point is, we’re dealing with a lot more problems than some kid who modded his Super Famicom so that it can realistically kill people on the screen, or hacked into a bank’s database so that he can send Bernie Sanders memes that give you diarrhea.” “The Sanders memes and the diarrhea memes were two different shitposts, actually.” Edward felt the need to clarify. The cop sighed. “Point is, we don’t have the time nor the resources to go after a wannabe technomancer.” “Wannabe?!” Ok, now that pissed him off. “If you wanna insult me, at least use an actual fucking term, and not those D&D names you sociopaths love so much.” “Well, you don’t really have a profession to go by. Never finished your studies.” The cop muttered, collecting the papers to give them another cursory glance. “Didn’t really need them, now, did I?” Another smug smirk. “You didn’t, no. It’s impressive how much you’ve done without any proper formal education, anomalous or otherwise. [[[scp-5340\|People like you]]] don’t make it this far.” The cop admitted. “And now you’re praising me?” Edward raised an eyebrow. Had a bad feeling about this one. “I’ll get straight to the point, mister Nguyen.” — First time Edward’s been addressed as a ‘mister’. Huh. — “We don’t have the time to deal with people like you, because we don’t have people like you among our ranks.” A pause. Edward wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he still did the best he could. “S-sorry?” “I’ll introduce myself.” The cop muttered, taking off his cap. He had bright yellow eyes. “I’m this place’s Head of Security, and I am giving you a job opportunity.” He still couldn’t grasp this change of events. “Wait, w-why?” “Well, you see mister Nguyen, the truth of the matter is that we have a protocol to follow, and the protocol says we have to return you to the Americas, where you’ll be prosecuted, and most likely, be properly contained in a facility just like this one. Your days of enjoying ready meals in front of the TV with nothing but an ankle tracker to worry about are over, mister.” The head of security explained, placing his hands on the table. “You’ll be put in a low-security prison, which by Foundational standards isn’t low-security at all. It’s also not fair. Staff do not exactly treat people like you ‘fairly’ or ‘humanely’ so… I don’t think you have a bright future, or one at all now.” “Are- Are you threatening me?” “I am being honest with you, Edward.” The man sighed. “You fucked up. You didn’t just run away from us, you escaped the country you were limited to, and used anomalous means to do so, possibly endangering normalcy on your way here to… To what, start a new life? Just come visit?” Edward bit his lip. He needed to regain control. “... Does it matter, //mister//?” “... No, no it doesn’t. What does matter is the second option. You see, mister Nguyen, we at this site do things a little different from other places.” The head of security began explaining. “For one, we don’t really believe people like you deserve to rot in jail. We can’t afford to have people like you rot in jail. Thus, the job proposition.” Silence reigned again. Edward didn’t know what to respond; he did not like any of the options here, but it was clear that he would have to choose to work for these pigs. Having strings attached to his arms and legs, unable to have full control of his life was something he was used to, thanks to his years under Foundational surveillance, so working for them wouldn’t exactly be much different. The idea of working for the bastards terrorizing his friends though… Now that he wasn’t a fan of. But did he really have any other choice? What was he supposed to do? Take a bullet for the team, and ‘rot in jail’, like the cop in front of him described? “I know this feels like entrapment. That’s because it is. However, trust me that I am and will be as fair as I’m allowed to regarding this job.” The man added. “You will have a salary, and you will have quarters to live in. You will have access to security rooms and laboratories and computer rooms, and most facilities regular personnel are allowed to step into. You will have your own ID badge, and it will have the security clearance of that of people who’ve studied years to get to learn the same things you naturally stumbled upon, and just as naturally mastered.” “Stop buttering me up.” “I am not. We wouldn’t be hunting you down if you weren’t good at what you do.” The man reclined on his chair, done with the ‘buttering up’. “So? What do you say? Do you want to go back to living in a cell, except now it’s smaller and stricter, or do you want to become part of my security team?” ‘What do you say?’ The fuck did he think he was gonna say? Oh yeah, I would love to be humiliated by your organization even more than before. What a lovely thing that would be! Edward got up from his seat, making the head of security raise an eyebrow, wondering what would happen next. Gritting his teeth, Edward held the white table with both hands, and finally responded: “When do I start?” The head of security smiled, getting up as well, before stretching out a gloved hand for a handshake. “As soon as possible.” He grinned, and Edward could see his canines, sharp like a wolf’s, his attitude changing to a more casual one. He had Edward by the balls, and they both knew it. Edward didn’t want to, but he returned the handshake, staring at the cop with a mix of contempt and defeat. He had made a deal with the Devil. A devil in the shape of a cop wearing gaudy clothes, an image so strong he could almost see the tail wagging behind the guy. It would take Edward a couple more minutes to realize that the head of security did, in fact, have a tail. @@ @@ [[=]] [[Image https://i.imgur.com/jkuPRgv.png width="650px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ ----- @@ @@ “Hertz? Really? That was your ‘hacker’ name?” “Your name is literally Outis, the fuck are you judging me for?” “Whatever, man…” The security officer in charge walked away, leaving Edward to attend to his own devices. In this case, the ‘devices’ in question were eight pairs of machinery, some sort of apparatus that allowed for the conversion of free thaumic energy into fake snow pellets, to be put for winter at every indoor garden in the site. Apparently they were for the sake of ‘environmentally aesthetic value’, which made no sense to him. What he did understand was the demonic circuitry used to make the nonsensical make physical, tangible sense. He had used this kind of stuff back home for his attacks against general normalcy, but this was grade-A stuff; of course the Foundation would have better stuff than the kind he would find on his own, or with the help of the GAW people. And of course they would waste it using it on fake snow, him being the handyman for this all. Still, GAW… Wonder how they were all doing… Had anyone wondered where he’d been all this time? It had been a week and a half since he’d been captured by the Foundation, and even longer since he’d decided to flee the country he had been born and raised in. “Hey, buddy, how you doing?” His thoughts on his previous friends were interrupted by a pat on the back, given to him by a woman in her late 30s, sporting a grin that proudly showed off a couple chipped teeth, dirty blonde hair covering half her face, wearing a ‘cop’ outfit that almost seemed like cosplay. This was the head of security. The same person who had gotten him this job, or rather, forced him into it. Turns out they were a shapeshifter. “I’m fine.” Edward muttered, trying not to get distracted. He wasn’t used to people pestering him while he tinkered. These past few days had been really, really hard to adjust to. Not that he would admit it, of course. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” “Well, buddy, you’re still on probation.” An arm wraps around his shoulder. Still not a fan. Made him feel weird. “Gotta make sure you aren’t sending our secrets to your friends over at GAW, or to the Russians, or, I dunno, some doomsday cult.” Edward rolled his eyes, connecting two circuit boards through a pact that was quickly resolved by an IRS (The I stands for [[[scp-6607\|‘infernal’]]]) representative seventy million years in the past. Fifth machine done; fifteen to go. “Not like I can contact anyone outside of here.” “I’m sure you could if you try hard enough.” The head of security chuckled, letting go of Edward. “I don’t think I should be saying that. I get yelled at enough as is… Don’t need to add onto all that.” The head of security slumped against a wall, materializing a can of beer in their hands. They began drinking from it, as if it was real. Edward knew that it was no more than an illusion, brought into ‘reality’ in the same manner they were able to turn into anyone they wished to. “Life’s so hard sometimes…” They lamented. Edward put his tools down. “Are you done? Have a lot on my hands right now.” “Well, look at mister busy bee over here. Who’d believe a week ago you almost got deported back to uhh… Where was it that you were-” “Philly. Least that’s the last place I’d been grounded to.” Edward muttered, using a rag to clean his hands off the sulfuric ash that sticks to you when working with demonic components. “Right.” The head of security nodded, pretending to know where Philly was, and that Philly wasn’t the actual name of the place. “You threw a tantrum on induction day, and yet look at you now!~” “Yeah, well… What can I say?...” And he meant that. The fuck could he say? He’d sold his soul to the Foundation, of all places, and he regretted it less and less as time went on. It wasn’t a good place, of that he was sure, and some of his peers looked at him with disdain, but there was something exhilarating about being envied. He and them had the same rank, and yet he had come from a place they would consider a slum, no? A pariah, a criminal, and now he stood along those who had studied decades, those who’d cannibalized each other just to stand where he was by being no more than a fugitive. It was in knowing this that he’d found peace in his position. He didn’t need much to survive, but if there was one thing he required to keep going, it was spite. Of course, that was not all. He hated to admit it, but things had improved for him. Things had improved a lot. He had been eating properly at least three times a day because actual food was served here. When was the last time he’d eaten something that hadn’t come out of a plastic container, that didn’t need to be microwaved, or that he hadn’t ordered through Uber? And when it came down to the people here… Another pat on the back. “For real. How are you holding up?” Tch. “You know, just because you’re my ‘parole officer’ or whatever role you’re meant to be, that doesn’t mean you have to like, care about me.” “I’m no parole officer, but I am the one looking after you, and I do care about you.” The head of security explained, Edward remaining silent. They sighed. “I know, I know, easy to say something you would want to hear.” — He didn’t want to hear this. He really didn’t. — “But it’s the truth. You have two guards and an artificial construct making sure you’re not building a bomb or leaking information. I don’t ‘officially’ need to be here and check up on you, make sure you’re ok, see if you need anything and all o’ that.” “Why do you care, then?” Edward asked. This annoyed him, and not only because they were interrupting his work (Which was one of the things he enjoyed the most here, as long as he didn’t think of it as his job.) but also because it didn’t make any sense, so it couldn’t be real. He wasn’t a fan of fake people, like most people. “Well…” Silence. It was weird for the head of security to not know what to say about something. They always seem to be able to babble and babble about anything and everything. They were oddly quiet now, something Edward wasn’t used to, but wasn’t surprised about either. Again, he’d known them for less than a month. “Well?” He pushed. “Do I really need a reason to?” The head of security finally replied, hands on their hips. “You’re fun to talk to, and, well, you don’t really talk to anyone else here so I worry. It’s just…” A hand to their blonde hair, scratching their scalp, allowing Edward to notice the nondescript animal ears they usually hid under either a hat or under lots of hair. “I care because I care. Again, do I really need a reason to wanna be around?” “... I guess you don’t…” So was it pity, then? Is that it? Edward would have faced them again, kept on with the talk, but now a knot had formed in his throat. Care, huh… He still didn’t believe it. It still made no sense, none at all, but he could feel the platitudes moving, ever so slightly. God, he was really desperate for any kind of connection, huh? He wished he could laugh at how sad this had all become. “Still, I have free time. A lot of it. You could bother me when I’m not trying to fix the shit you’ve told me to fix?” “Oh. Oh yeah, that’d make a lot of sense, huh.” Maybe the head of security was just an idiot. Yeah, that was probably it. It would make a lot of things make sense. Not all, of course, but most of it. … And maybe he was an idiot too. Something deep inside his chest told him so. @@ @@ [[=]] [[Image https://i.imgur.com/dS0xQpI.png width="650px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ ----- @@ @@ Edward sat at a bench, drinking what appeared to be turpentine. He’d been told it was ‘one cup sake’, which was the Japanese answer to what’s the cheapest drink one could possibly manufacture. He didn’t like it, but it helped fade away at the right speed; not too slow as with normal drinks, and not too fast as with strong zero, and without the splitting headaches. He needed to work in the morn; he wasn’t gonna drink that citrus death everyone here loved so much. It wasn’t long before the head of security arrived, sitting next to him, a can of beer in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. “Hey.” “Hey.” Edward wasn’t even gonna attempt to shoo them away. That ship had sailed a while ago. He’d live with this raccoon-tailed tapeworm for the time being. “You know, the indoor gardens are pretty nice at night, but it’s damn cold here. Why don’t we go back to the party?” The Head of Security asked him, taking a sip. Edward sighed. Compulsory events sucked, and they sucked even more when he hated everyone there. Their gaze hadn’t changed: He was a prisoner in all ways but in title. “I’m used to the cold.” That was such a cringe line, fuck. It was true, though. Winter in Philly was awfully cold. “Yeah, and people get used to pain and cruelty. That doesn’t make it good.” The head of security was quick to pass the coffee to Edward, who looked at it, before turning to his ‘nanny’. “Take it.” “... Thanks.” The words left his mouth like he was being strangled for them. As soon as he took the cup, the sake cup was taken off his hands. Before he could protest or emote in any manner, the head of security downed the thing in one go. “Ugh, this cheap stuff is so bad…” “Uh.” “We’re getting an inspection tomorrow. I’m not having you drunk for that.” They immediately followed that by downing the drink they themselves had brought. “I can be though. The hell are they gonna do, fire me?” “You should be the one having someone look after them.” Edward chuckled at the idea, following it with a better idea: Drinking some of the coffee. “They woulda given up a long time ago.” The head of security chuckled, scratching the back of their head, their sporadic grey hairs shining against the cheap halogen lighting of the garden. “I’m a bit of a pain in the ass, if you haven’t noticed.” “No way, really?...” Another sip of the coffee. Alright, yeah, this was the good stuff. Perfect for tonight. “That’s what my many enemies would like you to believe, anyway.” And with a lame line and a roll of the eyes, the two fell into silence. Snowflakes generated by the machines Edward had fixed (And improved, but who cared about that, right?) covered the dimly lit fake sky, simulating winter pretty well. Well, he thought so anyway. He hadn’t been here long enough to really know what winter in Japan was like. Did you know that a confession under the falling snow is a literary trope? Edward didn’t, but his previous crush used to mention stuff like that. She was part of GAW, another free spirit like himself, who enjoyed tinkering with electronics to bring their full potential. A person so different from himself, that he couldn’t help but feel a sting whenever she spoke, and something warm inside himself whenever something excited her. Her happiness incited his. They say love through a screen isn’t as strong as in person, but they don’t tell you a rejection through the screen hurts just as much. … Where was he going with this? Why was he thinking about this now? “You reminded me of myself, when I was younger…” The head of security muttered briefly, staring at the opposite end of the room. “Hm?” But he knew why he was thinking it. There was no avoiding it now. “You asked me why I cared so much, and, uh, yeah, it’s just… When I was young, I too was given a loaded choice, to either die, or join this place.” They laughed, but neither of the two found their words funny. “And, well, back then I had no one by my side to guide me. No one to care. So I just… I dunno. It wouldn’t have been fair to either you or myself had I not been there to make sure you weren’t…” The head of security trailed off, lost in their own thoughts, unsure if they should be voiced. A better man would push for an answer, to find out whether the trust put unto him was real, or merely the head’s selfish desires, a reaction to seeing themselves reflected in Edward's eyes. A better man wouldn’t have fallen in love with an officer of the organization that ruined his life. “I’m…” //Choose your words carefully.// “I’m not someone who likes to talk about what’s really on my mind, but uh… I’m grateful. I’m glad you took the time to make sure I didn’t — I don’t know, shiv a guard, hang myself using my shoelaces. Whatever.” “You’re not the type to do any of that. I read your report, remember?” A smile. That damn smile. The kind that could belong to anyone, men or women, man or beast. The kind of smile that, no matter what the body looked like, would always belong to a single person. “You’re better than that.” He was. He knew this. It was still nice to hear. “Am I, now?” But could he fish for more? “What’s gotten into you? By this point you’re a nautical mile away from lil old me. Not fishing for compliments like we’re a sappy couple.” And this was why he didn’t try things he wasn’t familiar with; he gets caught. He could feel the warmth of his own blood flow accelerate. The vessels around his face dilated. It was weird to feel hotter than the coffee he’d been drinking. “Whatever…” Utter defeat. He could not reply in any way that didn’t incriminate him further. And if this was his reaction to mere teasing… “Come on, I’m just messing with you. 冗談, 冗談~” A poke to the cheek only made the blush worse. He wasn’t sober enough for this. Silence reigned again, as head of security wondered if they had pushed a tad too far this time, and Edward wondered if 冗談 meant ‘joke’, the language lessons melting away with the liquor. Finally, the former slapped their knees, tossing the beer and the sake containers into the appropriate bins. The Head of Security turned to Edward. “Ready to return, Edwin? People are gonna get worried.” “Worried about you, yeah.” Edward scoffed, trying not to think too hard about the nickname. “Bet that asshole from Research’ll think I killed you.” “Come on. It’ll at least be warmer than here. You can stand by a corner or something, no?” The head of security grabbed Edward’s hand, trying to get him off his seat. Edward instead grabbed their hand, stopping them in their tracks. “How… How about we just stay here?” Edward bit his lip. That was a move of desperation, not of logic. His past self would have beaten him to shit for that one. “Hm?” The head of security tilts their head, staring at Edward. The reflection upon his eyes told a different story. “I just-” Think. “I just wanna enjoy the weather, as fake as it is. We both know the party sucks so… Can’t we stay like this just a bit longer?” Edward couldn’t put into words what he saw in the Head of Security’s eyes, but they quickly sat down again. “Alright, but just a bit longer. Would suck if we turn up to work tomorrow not only drunk but also sick.” They laughed. “Yeah, that would suck…” Edward muttered under his breath, trying to calm down his nerves, not an easy task as the two were still holding hands, the head of security not letting go of him just yet. Thank god trembling could be attributed to the cold. “... You sure you don’t wanna go in, get another warm drink?” The head of security asked, holding Edward’s hand in front of the two, pointing to the trembling. He shook his head. “Alright…” The halogen lights flickered, and as the fake snow kept on falling, Edward couldn’t help but relish the moment. It was wrong. It felt wrong, but it didn’t matter. Right now, it all felt warm. That’s all that mattered. They say a confession under the falling snow is a narrative trope. He could see why now. He turned to the head of security again. Would he? //Should he?// … No, not today. Not yet. He wasn’t ready, and something told him they weren’t either. Dejection hurts. It hurt a lot before, and this one would hurt so much more, he thought. He was fine with how things were now, and he would enjoy it. Fucking up would come later. He had tinkered with the snow machines, he knew how much time he had left for a proper try. So he tightened his grip, reclined back onto the bench, and watched the snow fall. @@ @@ [[=]] [[Image https://i.imgur.com/donaBjZ.png width="650px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ ----- This is a tale for [[[romcon\|Romcon]]], featuring my character, Head of Security, and [[user Tyumen]]'s character, Edward Nguyen. For their take on the pairing, please refer to [TALE TO BE LINKED HERE]* @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: jkuPRgv.png, dS0xQpI.png, donaBjZ.png > Author: [[user Maxyfran73]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: Own Work ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-29T16:54:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "romcon2023-unofficial", "tale" ]	Raccoon Dog Hunt - SCP Foundation	7	[ "scp-5620", "scp-5340", "scp-6607", "romcon", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon" ]	[]	1447966270	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/raccoon-dog-hunt
rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="rate_t3"> <tr> <td colspan="2" style="display:table-cell;"> </td> <td colspan="2" style="display:none;"> </td> </tr> <tr style="display: table-row;"> <td style="text-align: left;">100%<br/> (+24)</td> <td style="text-align: right;">0%<br/> (-0)</td> </tr> <tr style="display:none;"> <td style="text-align: left;">-%<br/> (+0)</td> <td style="text-align: right;">-%<br/> (-0)</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <p><strong>Article:</strong> Rapture (alternate title: "This Tale Made Fullham Cry Like a Bitch, See How You Stack Up (You Will Likely Win Because He Is An Emotionally Frail Manchild)")</p> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/battleblockb0ss" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7852609); return false;"><img alt="BattleblockB0ss" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7852609&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7852609)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/battleblockb0ss" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7852609); return false;">BattleblockB0ss</a></span></p> <p><strong>Critters:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/doctor-fullham" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1989312); return false;"><img alt="Doctor Fullham" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1989312&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1989312)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/doctor-fullham" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1989312); return false;">Doctor Fullham</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zoobeeny" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6070624); return false;"><img alt="Zoobeeny" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6070624&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6070624)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zoobeeny" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6070624); return false;">Zoobeeny</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strangerswing" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8206095); return false;"><img alt="StrangerSwing" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8206095&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8206095)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strangerswing" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8206095); return false;">StrangerSwing</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/meserach" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1507289); return false;"><img alt="Meserach" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1507289&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1507289)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/meserach" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1507289); return false;">Meserach</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/glassautomaton" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7930944); return false;"><img alt="GlassAutomaton" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7930944&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7930944)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/glassautomaton" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7930944); return false;">GlassAutomaton</a></span></p> <p><strong>Image Credits:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Top TMO Bar, by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span>, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.<br/> Bottom TMO Bar, by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span>, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.<br/> Wandsmen Logo, by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vivarium" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6798022); return false;"><img alt="Vivarium" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6798022&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6798022)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vivarium" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6798022); return false;">Vivarium</a></span>, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> <p>CW: Descriptions of violence, gore, and panic attacks</p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> </div> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <img alt="TMOtopBar.png" class="image" src="http://filedmns2.wikidot.com/local--files/dokumentoz/TMOtopBar.png" width="450px"/> <p>Mina was having an awful morning. After a particularly bad fight with her girlfriend, Mina had spent the night tossing and turning on the couch. As she took a sip of her coffee in a doomed attempt to revitalize her exhausted mind she mulled over what had happened. After yet another late workday filling out forms and reviewing security footage, Mina arrived home an hour later than usual. Tambry confronted her as soon as she walked in the door, asking- yet again- what she did at work every day. Tired and snappish from poring over computer screens all day, Mina tried to make her understand - <em>again</em> - why she couldn't talk about her job.</p> <p>"I just don't fucking understand how you can leave the house every morning at 5 A.M, come home late every other day, and tell me nothing about what you're up to all day. Fuck, we've been together for 2 YEARS and I still don't have the faintest fucking idea what your job is."</p> <p>"Tambry, we've talked about this over and over. I can't talk about what I do. I signed an NDA. If I told you even the most basic details about my job they'd fire me, and then where would we be?"</p> <p>"How the fuck would they know? Who the fuck IS 'they?' I'm your girlfriend, you can trust me with anything!"</p> <p>"They have ways of knowing. I'm sorry, okay? You have no idea how fucking bad I want to tell you everything that happens to me every day. But I can't. I don't- how can I make you understand this?"</p> <p>"'They have ways of knowing?' What the fuck does that even mean? Jesus, Mina, you sound fucking paranoid. Who do you work for, the CIA? The KGB?"</p> <p>"Close enough."</p> <p>After another half hour of fighting, Tambry stormed off to their room and locked the door, leaving Mina to cry herself to a fitful sleep. When she woke up, the door was still locked, leaving Mina no option but to leave for work without a shower or change of clothes. If that wasn't enough, another round of layoffs had left the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/site-14-secure-facility-dossier">Site-14</a> security force short-staffed, sticking Mina on desk duty with fucking Jerry for the next 9 hours. Sighing, Mina checked her watch. 8 hours and 14 minutes, to be exact.</p> <p>"Have you seen the newest Cheers episode?" Jerry blurted at her. "It's <em>classic</em>. You won't believe what Sam did…"</p> <p>Mina shut her eyes and did her best to shut out Jerry's droning. Just 8 hours and 13 minutes left. Then she'd get to go home and spend time with Tambry- assuming she's cooled down by then. Mina groaned as she put her head in her hands, reliving the fight yet again. This job. It's always this fucking job. She missed her best friend's wedding for this job, she missed her niece's first birthday for this job, and now her relationship's falling apart. Why? For this <em>fucking</em> job. Jerry's constant blathering certainly didn't help either.</p> <p>"Heyo, you still there Minana?" Jerry tapped her on the shoulder, startling her out of her brooding. Mina jumped, spilling her steaming coffee all over the front of her shirt.</p> <p>"Jesus, Jerry! What the fuck?" Mina snapped at him. Jerry jumped back sheepishly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mina cut him off before he could. "Ow, fuck. I'm going to the bathroom to try to clean this up. Don't fuck anything up while I'm gone." Mina walked out of the security booth in the direction of the bathrooms- the only working bathrooms on-site, to be specific. The ones adjacent to the security office had been out of commission for weeks. Why? "Budget cuts".</p> <p>After sopping up the brown mess dripping down her shirt, Mina headed back through the winding hallways of Site-14 to the front desk. During the long commute to and from the bathroom, she'd had time to cool down. Jerry wasn't that bad, he just didn't know how to read people's moods, and Mina was not in a good one after the fight with Tambry.</p> <p>On the topic of Tambry, Mina was starting to realize that she couldn't stay at this job and sustain her relationship at the same time. Tambry was right, this whole thing was unfair to both of them. Mina hated her job as well as the secrecy and dedication that came with it- she had never wanted to work in security, she wanted to be a police officer and make a difference. Plus, Tambry deserved to know what her girlfriend did at work and why she was home late so often.</p> <p>Mina resolved to sit down with Tambry and talk about it as soon as she got home. She was composing an apology for snapping at Jerry when she heard a crash. Thinking Jerry probably dropped something, Mina's bad mood rekindled as she swore under her breath, slowing her steps so she wouldn't have to help clean it up. However, she soon realized something was wrong. The crashing sounds were getting louder and more violent.</p> <p>"He- hey! Stop right there! I have a gu- holy shit, what- what the fuck are you? Stand back-" Several gunshots rang out. "I said stand b-" Jerry's terrified voice gave way to screaming, and after a few seconds, silence. The crashing continued further into the building, growing quieter. More screams started up in the distance.</p> <p>Frozen in place, Mina snapped back to herself. She sprinted down the corridor, thoughts crashing around her head. What just happened? What could have made those noises? As Mina rounded the corner to the lobby, she froze yet again.</p> <p>The room looked like the aftermath of a tornado. The chairs were flung everywhere, some splintered to pieces. The security desk was on its side and was partially embedded in a wall. And Jerry- oh god, Jerry. There was a nauseatingly large- and quickly growing- pool of blood emanating from him. His empty, bloody gun sat on the ground several feet away from him. But worst of all was his body.</p> <p>Jerry was lying on his back in the corner of the room. It looked like a massive eagle had taken its claws to his stomach. His limbs were intact, but his bowels were ripped out of his chest, and he was gasping for breath as blood leaked from the side of his mouth. Mina rushed to his side, stammering. "I- wha- what did- Jerry- I'm sorry- I'm so sorry- what-" Jerry made a gurgling noise as he coughed out more blood, looked her in the eyes, and went limp. Hyperventilating, she stood up and stumbled backward into the wall, sobbing.</p> <p>Mina spared one more glimpse at Jerry's mangled body, trying to process what had just happened. She didn't know what could have done this, but she did know she had to stay as far away from it as possible. Screams still sounding in the distance, Mina turned and ran home.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>USA, Florida - 911 call<br/> Language: English<br/> Key words: smoke, fifth<br/> Operative to evaluate</p> </blockquote> <p>"…yeah, there's smoke coming from the wooded area behind my house. This is the fifth time it's happened since we moved here." NEGATIVE.</p> <p>Antonio clicked through his 34th call of the day so far. He leaned back, stretching his arms as his joints popped: he wasn't used to sitting in a chair for so long yet. It had only been a week since he'd started working for the Foundation- more specifically, the Telecommunications Monitoring Office- and Antonio found it excruciatingly dull. He didn't realize his fancy title just meant he'd be listening to stoners ramble about their hallucinations all day. He'd had enough of stoners lately, thanks to his former roommate Rodrick.</p> <p>There was nothing wrong with Rodrick, really. He was a good guy. Living with him was just too much for Antonio: he never cleaned, he played his electric guitar at all hours, the smell of weed was ingrained in every surface, and he constantly invited his band over to practice. The breaking point was when he'd spray-painted his band's logo on their living room wall.</p> <p>After Antonio moved out, he was able to secure a tiny apartment in a decent area for an affordable price. However, now that he wasn't sharing the rent with Rodrick, Antonio couldn't afford to stay on at his minimum-wage Walmart job. So after he got home one night, he pulled out his laptop and started looking for jobs. He stumbled upon an ad that said <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hanging%20on%20the%20telephone">"TELEPHONE OPERATORS REQUIRED. FLEXIBLE HOURS, DAY OR NIGHT. DISCRETION REQUIRED."</a> After going through a bizarre application process, he found himself at Site-14.</p> <p>Once he had recovered from the initial shock of learning about the "anomalous" side of the world that had existed under his nose his whole life, Antonio was excited to start his new job. He didn't care what it was as long as it had something to do with this brand-new, magical, monstrous world.</p> <p>His new supervisors took no time in telling him what exactly he had signed up for; his job was to listen to calls to emergency services deemed anomalous by something called ESAS: the Emergency Services Anomaly Screening algorithm. He was supposed to listen to the calls, then verify whether they were anomalous or not. Antonio quickly decided that ESAS wasn't very good at its job, as almost all of the calls directed at him were either picked up by accident or just the product of a bad acid trip.</p> <p>He sighed as he looked around his cubicle. The muted drone of other operatives talking to each other and listening to calls of their own came into focus as he surveyed the flimsy grey walls constructing his office space. Currently, the only decoration Antonio had put up was a complimentary calendar. It was themed around different objects contained by the Foundation. In theory, this would make for an interesting calendar and a nice gift- if most of the images weren't blacked out due to security reasons. As it was, it just added to the sense of dreariness permeating every part of Site-14.</p> <p>Settling back into his chair, he reached out to move on to the next call. Just as he was about to click to the next one he heard a scream. Startled, he stopped moving, listening for more. After a few seconds of silence, Antonio concluded someone must be having a bit of fun playing a prank on the other operatives. A supervisor would take care of them. Readying himself for the next call, he grabbed hold of his mouse for a second time when the screaming started up again.</p> <p>Antonio ignored the screaming for a minute, figuring the prankster would stop when they got tired of it. But it didn't stop. Instead more voices joined in, and he could hear the sounds of a commotion down the aisle. Emergency lights turned on, sweeping the room with bright red light every few seconds. Disturbed, he stood up, stepped to the entrance of the cubicle, and looked out. His breath caught in his throat.</p> <p>A large… <em>something</em> was rampaging through the array of aisles. It looked like a person wearing a brown coat and a bird mask. As he watched, it reached out with its hand- no, its claw- and ripped through the face of a woman. As she fell, the person turned to face Antonio. Its mask- no, its beak- opened, and it released a horrible noise.</p> <p>It sounded like a human scream mixed with the piercing caw of a crow, and with it came a blast of energy. Antonio was knocked off his feet and collapsed in the corner of his cubicle, hyperventilating. Through the fog of panic and shock in his head, he recalled the "office safety" film they'd shown him: "The area underneath your desk may function as adequate cover for minor to moderate emergencies." Forcing his limbs to move, he crawled underneath his workstation and curled up into a ball next to his computer.</p> <p>What was happening? What was that… thing? Now that he had a chance to process what he saw, Antonio had deduced that it wasn't wearing a coat. Instead, it was covered with glossy umber feathers. It was like a large bird crossed with a person. His arms around his legs, he rocked back and forth as the screaming and crashing and- oh god, the wet slapping of human bodies against hard surfaces- continued.</p> <p>The noises grew closer to Antonio's cubicle, and he pulled himself into a tighter ball. Through the opening of his cubicle, he could see his coworkers fleeing the creature. The nice woman that had presented him with his calender, Samantha, rushed past, when suddenly the creature was on her back, its claws digging into her flesh.</p> <p>She screamed, begging for mercy, and the creature swiped at the back of her throat with its talon. Blood spurted out and she stopped pleading, unable to make any noise except for an awful gurgling. Not even ten feet away, Antonio watched silently, unable to take his eyes away. As blood endlessly pulsed out of her neck, the creature stood up straight and bent its head back.</p> <p>For the first time, Antonio had a chance to get a good look at it. It was humanoid, around seven or eight feet tall, and rough brown feathers adorned its entire body. The creature's oversized parchment-yellow bird claws pierced Samantha's back. Brown, powerful wings intermittently splattered with gore unfurled from its lean chest and flapped twice as it released another horrid caw from its cruel, curved beak. The ensuing wave of energy left Antonio feeling like his brain had been microwaved. His muscles turned to jelly and it was all he could do to pull further back under his desk as he desperately tried not to draw attention to himself.</p> <p>"I AM YOUR RAPTURE!" the creature cried. Its voice had the harsh, gravely yet piercing tone of a bird's call meshed with the smooth undertones of a deep-voiced man. "YOU CHOOSE TO DENY OTHERS THE WISDOM YOU DEEM YOURSELF WORTHY TO POSSESS. I AM YOUR RAPTURE, THE ONE CHOSEN TO HALT YOUR OPPRESSION OF KNOWLEDGE." It flapped its wings once. "FROM THIS DAY FORTH, YOUR 'NORMALCY,' YOUR 'VEIL' WILL BE SHATTERED, AND ALL WILL BE BEHOLDEN TO THE KNOWLEDGE YOU PREVIOUSLY KEPT UNKNOWN."</p> <p>Releasing its talons from Samantha, who had mercifully gone limp, the creature flapped its wings and started rising above the ground. Powerful gusts of wind blew loose papers, the occasional dark brown feather, and calendar pages whirling through the air. The wind summoned ripples in the puddle of blood stemming from Samantha's body as the creature flew in the direction of the stairwell, toppling cubicle walls with its formidable wings.</p> <p>Antonio could do nothing but sit there and watch the blood pool further toward him as the loose papers and feathers settled onto the ground. As the emergency lights continued to illuminate the walls of his cubicle periodically, Antonio realized just how wrong he had been about his new job.</p> <hr/> <p>"Watch your step," Site-14 General Director Jane Dani said as she hurried down the staircase from Level E to Level D. "The last thing we need right now is a broken ankle." The tiny, drab stairwell was awash with red light, lending it an otherworldly feel- which wasn't that uncommon in her line of work.</p> <p>Five minutes ago, Jane had been reviewing the past month's productivity reports when the emergency lights had switched on in place of the usual stark fluorescent glare. Abner Croft, the head of Site-14 security, burst out of the Site Surveillance Center. He announced to all Level E residents that they were in the middle of a Code Scarlet Crisis Scenario: One or more hostile entities had breached site security. MTF Omicron-67 ("Zeroth Responders") was currently occupied responding to an anomalous object, leaving Site-14 with no defense except for a few dozen Security Officers.</p> <p>After quelling the panic to a manageable level, Abner instructed them all to follow Evacuation Plan 14-S-04: Half of the floor was to try to exit the building via the northern stairwell, and the other half via the southern. That way at least half of them might survive. After Abner hurriedly divided the staff roughly in half, Jane found herself leading a horde of accountants, IT techs, and executives to Level A in hopes of fleeing the building.</p> <p>They passed by the entrance to Level D. Level 2 and 3 Telecommunications Monitoring Operatives streamed out, joining their party. As Jane took step after curt step, her echoing footsteps just one of many in a ceaseless din, she thought of her family. Despite her stern, collected appearance, her head was a maelstrom of fears and questions. What was going on? Who was attacking? What did they want? She knew practically nothing.</p> <p>Jane stumbled as the edge of her heel caught against a crack in the concrete floor. It was hard to see in the dim lighting. A nameless accountant caught her arm to help her regain her balance. "Thanks," she nodded in the direction of her aid. She needed to put up a courageous front for her employees right now. As the General Director of the Site, they were looking to her for assurance. Regardless, the panic within her was rising. If Jakob were here he'd know just how to calm her down.</p> <p>Level C. This time, a horde of Level 1 Telecommunications operatives crammed themselves into the stairwell, occupying most of the little remaining space left. Jane found herself drawing her arms into her body as her thoughts shifted to those of Jakob. What was he going to do if she died here? He certainly couldn't care for their children alone.</p> <p>Her panic spiked as she turned the corner. <em>Their children.</em> If she didn't make it home tonight, they'd be motherless. Jane was the provider for her family; without her, they'd have a small savings account and no more. What if they ended up on the streets? Jane found her breaths growing quicker and shallower as the onset of a panic attack peered through the haze of fear in her mind. Heartbeat speeding up, Jane forced herself to focus on the task at hand. There would be time to hyperventilate later. Right now, she needed to get these people to safety.</p> <p>As the dark spots in her vision started disappearing, Jane spotted a sign on the wall - Level B. Almost there. She allowed herself a sigh of hesitant relief- maybe they'd be okay. Maybe they'd get out safe after all. "Almost there, everyone," she called out, to several prayers and thank-yous to various deities. Jane let a tight-lipped smirk slip at their blind faith- something everyone loses once they attain the right clearance.</p> <p>Suddenly, a man burst out of the door at the bottom of the staircase. He had blood splattered on his stark off-white shirt; likely somebody else's since he seemed uninjured, if out of breath. His eyes wide with fear, lungs heaving, he started clambering up the stairs. "IT'S COMING!" he yelled, gasping for air.</p> <p>As soon as Jane had processed this, the door and wall surrounding it crashed in with a shower of debris. A hulking, gore-covered… <em>thing</em> with massive eagle wings burst through, cracking the opposing wall. Screams started sounding as the horde of executives tailing Jane started shoving their way through the crowd, pushing confused employees who didn't know what was happening yet into the walls. One unlucky soul fell over the railing and hit the floor near the birdman with a sickening crunch.</p> <p>Using the body to propel itself forwards, the birdman flew at Jane, eyes black and merciless, as Jane had the time for just one last thought:<br/> <em>Fuck.</em></p> <hr/> <p>The 6th Wandsman of Wisdar ripped its claws through the poised woman at the head of the crowd of fleeing Foundation worms. The others fell over each other trying to get out of the way of his talons, but he paid them little mind as his gaze snapped to the passage upwards. He screeched once, sending waves of energy rippling through the mass of bodies, and beat his wings, sending him hurling through the stairs above. Bodies flew like ragdolls as powerful gusts of wind flowed through the tiny vertical corridor.</p> <p>The Wandsman knew little of the Foundation's "Site-14," beyond three simple facts:</p> <ol> <li>It's one of the Foundation's major sites</li> <li>The obfuscation of anomalies is one of its primary concerns</li> <li>It's vulnerable</li> </ol> <p>It was the perfect target. Site-14 possessed all the qualities of the Foundation the Wandsman found most evil, without the security of other locations. His goal was to eliminate the servers on the top floor of the building, hindering Foundation efforts throughout the entire western half of the world. Bringing the Foundation employees he was currently tossing aside to justice was nothing more than a bonus.</p> <p>Slowing his upward descent as he approached the ceiling, the Wandsman flapped his wings once, sending him crashing through the door labeled "LEVEL E" and into the server room for Site-14. The room held the hardware containing the ESAS algorithm: a technology used by the Foundation to detect anomalies throughout the western hemisphere. Looming rows of computer banks lined the room, green LEDs turned yellow by the still pulsing red emergency lights. Chairs were overturned and documents littered the floor; the room had been thrown into disarray by employees' rush to evacuate. The Wandsman was almost disappointed there were no Foundation personnel left on the floor- making them pay would have brought a smile to his beak, so to speak.</p> <p>After a moment of surveying the room, the Wandsman cawed twice, unleashing a devastating wave of magical energy. The tower closest to him collapsed backward, crashing into another and starting a domino effect. Sparks flew, metal ground against metal, and the Wandsman began his actual work.</p> <p>Bank after bank, tower after tower, the Wansman held no mercy for the unthinking machinery. His wicked talons gouged into CPUs, monitors, wires, and more, sliding through them like butter. Undeterred by the risk of electrocution or laceration by the jagged metal edges, he continued, destroying dozens of servers. With the annihilation of these machines, the Foundation would no longer be able to listen to human calls about anomalies, ergo, they would not be able to contain said anomalies. The Wandsmen had always been against the concealment of knowledge; the 6th Wandsman of Wisdar was simply the first to take real action.</p> <p>Of course, nobody knew where he was at the moment. Most Wandsmen were pacifists- they'd rather sit in their libraries, writing articles and pleas for consideration. The Wandsman snorted. While knowledge was just as important to him as any of his peers, he was the only one who understood that action was needed for change. So he did what any good Wandsman would: he researched. He researched universes, he researched worlds within said universes, and he researched organizations within said worlds.</p> <p>Eventually, he settled upon the Foundation. While other worlds had similar establishments, the Foundation was so egregiously committed to the obfuscation of knowledge and possessed so much power that the Wandsman knew he had found his target. So he prepared. He identified how the Foundation accomplished its repulsive mission, found a weak spot, and like his avian ancestor, dove for it.</p> <p>Pausing again, the Wandsman beat his wings several times, blowing computer parts around the room in a silicon tornado, shredding dozens of banks. Sparks flew and metal screeched, gouging the walls and smashing the emergency lights. After the havoc wreaked here, it was obvious that Site-14 would take weeks to recover at the very least. Hopefully more. He already had his sights set on his next target and would be en route as soon as he was finished here.</p> <p>The Wandsman paused once more to survey the carnage. Shards of metal littered the floor. The previously pristine, state-of-the-art server banks were in ruins, with nothing but the occasional blinking light to signal that they were ever more than useless piles of rubble. What little furniture had previously decorated the space was now nothing more than splinters. Satisfied with his work, the Wandsman turned to the west-facing wall. Summoning his strength, he let loose a powerful screech, blasting a portion of the building to dust. Running for the edge, talons crunching on shattered bricks and twisted metal, he leapt through the opening and took flight.</p> <p>It was the middle of the winter in California and the sky was cast over with clouds. The sharp cold most Californians struggled with had no chance of permeating his rugged feathers. As he flew away from the scene of his triumph, he scanned the city for threats with a piercing stare- and spotted one immediately. A platoon of soldiers was spread out in front of him. Two on that building, seven in the parking garage, three jeeps scattered across a parking lot, and dozens more in various other places. Worried now, the Wandsman flew higher and faster, tucking into an paradoxical "upward dive" as he reduced the area available on his body mass. But he was too late.</p> <p>Bullets whizzed past him, seconds apart and inches from hitting him. Panic rising in his mind, the 6th Wandsman of Wisar began unfurling his map. Attacking his next target would have to wait. He needed to abscond to Wandsman headquarters, regardless of the consequences. But it was too late. A round of bullets shredded his map, and in turn, his chest. With an awkward squawk of pain, the Wandsman began falling. Wind rushed through his wings and the holes in his chest as he struggled to stay afloat. More bullets, in his wings this time. Sinking into a plummet, the Wandsman had no space in his head for regret or last words through the haze of pain. His last thought before hitting the ground was one of agony. As the Foundation soldiers surrounded his body and bound him, he bled out, taking a lifetime of knowledge with him to the grave.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote" style="background: rgba(38, 0, 95, 0.5) !important; border: 0.125rem dotted #624693 !important; color: white; font-family: serif;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Wandsmen_Invert.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/vivarium-s-artpage/Wandsmen_Invert.png" width="25%"/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc0"><span>TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN</span></h2> </div> <br/> <strong>Regarding the recent assault of your Site-14,</strong><br/> Us Wandsmen send our deepest condolences. We know all too well how it feels to suffer an attack from what one perceives as a great evil, and we know our words cannot begin to repay you for the lives and costs you have suffered. In respect to your assailant, we have much the same view as you. The 6th Wandsman of Wisdar, as was his title, acted on his own, unannounced, and against our core principles. Had we known of his mission before he took flight, we would have taken every effort to stop him. As it stands, the Wandsmen at large had nothing to do with his attack and everything against it. His tale will be preserved as a cautionary anecdote for those following in his footsteps.<br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>- The Third Wandswoman of Aellei</em></p> </div> </div> <br/> Setting the letter down on his desk, Kevan Samuels sighed. He could barely muster the energy to feel slighted by the Wandsmen's words. While they claimed no part in the recent attack on Site-14, tensions between the interdimensional reporters and the Foundation had heightened nonetheless. That was the Department of Advanced Diplomacy's job to take care of. Kevan had more than enough on his plate already. <p>Stretching, Kevan got out of his seat and walked three feet to the door of his new office. Foundation cleanup crews were still hard at work clearing rubble and searching for usable parts among the wreckage littering Level E. While most of the smaller chunks of debris were gone, twisted computer towers still littered the room, IT technicians flitting from one to the next to identify anything salvageable. It would be weeks at the very least until ESAS was functional again. This meant that in addition to the cost of repairing the site, Site-14's budget would have to go towards not just hiring more employees to- Kevan grimaced as he thought the words- <em>replace</em> those who had been lost during the attack, but also towards overtime pay for employees picking up ESAS's slack.</p> <p>Kevan groaned and looked away, needing a distraction from the dozens of tasks sitting before him. At this rate, he was going to get another migraine. His gaze settled upon his new desk. Covering it sat relics from its previous owner, the last General Director of Site-14, Jane Dani. A cup reading "World's [REDACTED] Director" held half a dozen pens and pencils, all sharpened to a point. Lined up in a neat row were artifacts from home: a crayon drawing, a colorful bracelet, and a family picture. A state-of-the-art modem was positioned in the corner, dust covering the keyboard. Kevan let out a weak chuckle. Jane never was great with technology.</p> <p>Heart sinking, Kevan tried not to think of his old mentor. Tried not to think of stepping over her body to flee from the attacker. Tried not to think of scrubbing her blood from his clothes. Tried not to think of sobbing himself to sleep that night, haunted by the ghosts of his coworkers and the responsibilities of his future. Focusing his attention back on his new duties, Kevan sighed and put his head in his hands. He wasn't ready for this.<br/></p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>BattleblockB0ss's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7158">SCP-7158</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/ddd-2034">DDD-2034</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/picture-this">Picture This</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/gamers-against-war">Gamers Against War</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/for-your-eyes-only-a-tale-of-the-tmo">For Your Eyes Only</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:say-it-with-me-everybody">"Say it with me everybody"</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:remember-to-stalk">Remember To STALK</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:what-to-expect-from-earth-s-new-orbit">What to Expect from Earth's New Orbit</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/battleblockb0ss-s-author-page">BattleblockB0ss's Author Page</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:vestigial-memory-syndrome">Vestigial Memory Syndrome</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo">Rapture</a>" by BattleblockB0ss, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo">https://scpwiki.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> TMObottomBar.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> TMOtopBar.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Wandsmen_Invert.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vivarium" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6798022); return false;"><img alt="Vivarium" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6798022&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052697" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6798022)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vivarium" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6798022); return false;">Vivarium</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vivarium-s-artpage">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:telecommunications-monitoring-office-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:telecommunications-monitoring-office-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> base=-- \|ex=--]] [[>]] [[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] [[<]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> pie=--]] Article: Rapture (alternate title: "This Tale Made Fullham Cry Like a Bitch, See How You Stack Up (You Will Likely Win Because He Is An Emotionally Frail Manchild)") Author: [[user BattleblockB0ss]] Critters:* [[user Doctor Fullham]], [[user Zoobeeny]], [[user StrangerSwing]], [[user Agente Shuffle]], [[user Meserach]], [[user GlassAutomaton]] Image Credits: > Top TMO Bar, by [[user Agente Shuffle]], licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0. > Bottom TMO Bar, by [[user Agente Shuffle]], licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0. > Wandsmen Logo, by [[user Vivarium]], licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 CW: Descriptions of violence, gore, and panic attacks [[/<]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[image http://filedmns2.wikidot.com/local--files/dokumentoz/TMOtopBar.png width="450px"]] [[div style="margin-bottom:16px;"]] [[/div]] Mina was having an awful morning. After a particularly bad fight with her girlfriend, Mina had spent the night tossing and turning on the couch. As she took a sip of her coffee in a doomed attempt to revitalize her exhausted mind she mulled over what had happened. After yet another late workday filling out forms and reviewing security footage, Mina arrived home an hour later than usual. Tambry confronted her as soon as she walked in the door, asking- yet again- what she did at work every day. Tired and snappish from poring over computer screens all day, Mina tried to make her understand - //again// - why she couldn't talk about her job. "I just don't fucking understand how you can leave the house every morning at 5 A.M, come home late every other day, and tell me nothing about what you're up to all day. Fuck, we've been together for 2 YEARS and I still don't have the faintest fucking idea what your job is." "Tambry, we've talked about this over and over. I can't talk about what I do. I signed an NDA. If I told you even the most basic details about my job they'd fire me, and then where would we be?" "How the fuck would they know? Who the fuck IS 'they?' I'm your girlfriend, you can trust me with anything!" "They have ways of knowing. I'm sorry, okay? You have no idea how fucking bad I want to tell you everything that happens to me every day. But I can't. I don't- how can I make you understand this?" "'They have ways of knowing?' What the fuck does that even mean? Jesus, Mina, you sound fucking paranoid. Who do you work for, the CIA? The KGB?" "Close enough." After another half hour of fighting, Tambry stormed off to their room and locked the door, leaving Mina to cry herself to a fitful sleep. When she woke up, the door was still locked, leaving Mina no option but to leave for work without a shower or change of clothes. If that wasn't enough, another round of layoffs had left the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/site-14-secure-facility-dossier Site-14] security force short-staffed, sticking Mina on desk duty with fucking Jerry for the next 9 hours. Sighing, Mina checked her watch. 8 hours and 14 minutes, to be exact. "Have you seen the newest Cheers episode?" Jerry blurted at her. "It's //classic//. You won't believe what Sam did..." Mina shut her eyes and did her best to shut out Jerry's droning. Just 8 hours and 13 minutes left. Then she'd get to go home and spend time with Tambry- assuming she's cooled down by then. Mina groaned as she put her head in her hands, reliving the fight yet again. This job. It's always this fucking job. She missed her best friend's wedding for this job, she missed her niece's first birthday for this job, and now her relationship's falling apart. Why? For this //fucking// job. Jerry's constant blathering certainly didn't help either. "Heyo, you still there Minana?" Jerry tapped her on the shoulder, startling her out of her brooding. Mina jumped, spilling her steaming coffee all over the front of her shirt. "Jesus, Jerry! What the fuck?" Mina snapped at him. Jerry jumped back sheepishly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mina cut him off before he could. "Ow, fuck. I'm going to the bathroom to try to clean this up. Don't fuck anything up while I'm gone." Mina walked out of the security booth in the direction of the bathrooms- the only working bathrooms on-site, to be specific. The ones adjacent to the security office had been out of commission for weeks. Why? "Budget cuts". After sopping up the brown mess dripping down her shirt, Mina headed back through the winding hallways of Site-14 to the front desk. During the long commute to and from the bathroom, she'd had time to cool down. Jerry wasn't that bad, he just didn't know how to read people's moods, and Mina was not in a good one after the fight with Tambry. On the topic of Tambry, Mina was starting to realize that she couldn't stay at this job and sustain her relationship at the same time. Tambry was right, this whole thing was unfair to both of them. Mina hated her job as well as the secrecy and dedication that came with it- she had never wanted to work in security, she wanted to be a police officer and make a difference. Plus, Tambry deserved to know what her girlfriend did at work and why she was home late so often. Mina resolved to sit down with Tambry and talk about it as soon as she got home. She was composing an apology for snapping at Jerry when she heard a crash. Thinking Jerry probably dropped something, Mina's bad mood rekindled as she swore under her breath, slowing her steps so she wouldn't have to help clean it up. However, she soon realized something was wrong. The crashing sounds were getting louder and more violent. "He- hey! Stop right there! I have a gu- holy shit, what- what the fuck are you? Stand back-" Several gunshots rang out. "I said stand b-" Jerry's terrified voice gave way to screaming, and after a few seconds, silence. The crashing continued further into the building, growing quieter. More screams started up in the distance. Frozen in place, Mina snapped back to herself. She sprinted down the corridor, thoughts crashing around her head. What just happened? What could have made those noises? As Mina rounded the corner to the lobby, she froze yet again. The room looked like the aftermath of a tornado. The chairs were flung everywhere, some splintered to pieces. The security desk was on its side and was partially embedded in a wall. And Jerry- oh god, Jerry. There was a nauseatingly large- and quickly growing- pool of blood emanating from him. His empty, bloody gun sat on the ground several feet away from him. But worst of all was his body. Jerry was lying on his back in the corner of the room. It looked like a massive eagle had taken its claws to his stomach. His limbs were intact, but his bowels were ripped out of his chest, and he was gasping for breath as blood leaked from the side of his mouth. Mina rushed to his side, stammering. "I- wha- what did- Jerry- I'm sorry- I'm so sorry- what-" Jerry made a gurgling noise as he coughed out more blood, looked her in the eyes, and went limp. Hyperventilating, she stood up and stumbled backward into the wall, sobbing. Mina spared one more glimpse at Jerry's mangled body, trying to process what had just happened. She didn't know what could have done this, but she did know she had to stay as far away from it as possible. Screams still sounding in the distance, Mina turned and ran home. ---- > USA, Florida - 911 call > Language: English > Key words: smoke, fifth > Operative to evaluate "...yeah, there's smoke coming from the wooded area behind my house. This is the fifth time it's happened since we moved here." NEGATIVE. Antonio clicked through his 34th call of the day so far. He leaned back, stretching his arms as his joints popped: he wasn't used to sitting in a chair for so long yet. It had only been a week since he'd started working for the Foundation- more specifically, the Telecommunications Monitoring Office- and Antonio found it excruciatingly dull. He didn't realize his fancy title just meant he'd be listening to stoners ramble about their hallucinations all day. He'd had enough of stoners lately, thanks to his former roommate Rodrick. There was nothing wrong with Rodrick, really. He was a good guy. Living with him was just too much for Antonio: he never cleaned, he played his electric guitar at all hours, the smell of weed was ingrained in every surface, and he constantly invited his band over to practice. The breaking point was when he'd spray-painted his band's logo on their living room wall. After Antonio moved out, he was able to secure a tiny apartment in a decent area for an affordable price. However, now that he wasn't sharing the rent with Rodrick, Antonio couldn't afford to stay on at his minimum-wage Walmart job. So after he got home one night, he pulled out his laptop and started looking for jobs. He stumbled upon an ad that said [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hanging on the telephone \|"TELEPHONE OPERATORS REQUIRED. FLEXIBLE HOURS, DAY OR NIGHT. DISCRETION REQUIRED."]]] After going through a bizarre application process, he found himself at Site-14. Once he had recovered from the initial shock of learning about the "anomalous" side of the world that had existed under his nose his whole life, Antonio was excited to start his new job. He didn't care what it was as long as it had something to do with this brand-new, magical, monstrous world. His new supervisors took no time in telling him what exactly he had signed up for; his job was to listen to calls to emergency services deemed anomalous by something called ESAS: the Emergency Services Anomaly Screening algorithm. He was supposed to listen to the calls, then verify whether they were anomalous or not. Antonio quickly decided that ESAS wasn't very good at its job, as almost all of the calls directed at him were either picked up by accident or just the product of a bad acid trip. He sighed as he looked around his cubicle. The muted drone of other operatives talking to each other and listening to calls of their own came into focus as he surveyed the flimsy grey walls constructing his office space. Currently, the only decoration Antonio had put up was a complimentary calendar. It was themed around different objects contained by the Foundation. In theory, this would make for an interesting calendar and a nice gift- if most of the images weren't blacked out due to security reasons. As it was, it just added to the sense of dreariness permeating every part of Site-14. Settling back into his chair, he reached out to move on to the next call. Just as he was about to click to the next one he heard a scream. Startled, he stopped moving, listening for more. After a few seconds of silence, Antonio concluded someone must be having a bit of fun playing a prank on the other operatives. A supervisor would take care of them. Readying himself for the next call, he grabbed hold of his mouse for a second time when the screaming started up again. Antonio ignored the screaming for a minute, figuring the prankster would stop when they got tired of it. But it didn't stop. Instead more voices joined in, and he could hear the sounds of a commotion down the aisle. Emergency lights turned on, sweeping the room with bright red light every few seconds. Disturbed, he stood up, stepped to the entrance of the cubicle, and looked out. His breath caught in his throat. A large... //something// was rampaging through the array of aisles. It looked like a person wearing a brown coat and a bird mask. As he watched, it reached out with its hand- no, its claw- and ripped through the face of a woman. As she fell, the person turned to face Antonio. Its mask- no, its beak- opened, and it released a horrible noise. It sounded like a human scream mixed with the piercing caw of a crow, and with it came a blast of energy. Antonio was knocked off his feet and collapsed in the corner of his cubicle, hyperventilating. Through the fog of panic and shock in his head, he recalled the "office safety" film they'd shown him: "The area underneath your desk may function as adequate cover for minor to moderate emergencies." Forcing his limbs to move, he crawled underneath his workstation and curled up into a ball next to his computer. What was happening? What was that... thing? Now that he had a chance to process what he saw, Antonio had deduced that it wasn't wearing a coat. Instead, it was covered with glossy umber feathers. It was like a large bird crossed with a person. His arms around his legs, he rocked back and forth as the screaming and crashing and- oh god, the wet slapping of human bodies against hard surfaces- continued. The noises grew closer to Antonio's cubicle, and he pulled himself into a tighter ball. Through the opening of his cubicle, he could see his coworkers fleeing the creature. The nice woman that had presented him with his calender, Samantha, rushed past, when suddenly the creature was on her back, its claws digging into her flesh. She screamed, begging for mercy, and the creature swiped at the back of her throat with its talon. Blood spurted out and she stopped pleading, unable to make any noise except for an awful gurgling. Not even ten feet away, Antonio watched silently, unable to take his eyes away. As blood endlessly pulsed out of her neck, the creature stood up straight and bent its head back. For the first time, Antonio had a chance to get a good look at it. It was humanoid, around seven or eight feet tall, and rough brown feathers adorned its entire body. The creature's oversized parchment-yellow bird claws pierced Samantha's back. Brown, powerful wings intermittently splattered with gore unfurled from its lean chest and flapped twice as it released another horrid caw from its cruel, curved beak. The ensuing wave of energy left Antonio feeling like his brain had been microwaved. His muscles turned to jelly and it was all he could do to pull further back under his desk as he desperately tried not to draw attention to himself. "I AM YOUR RAPTURE!" the creature cried. Its voice had the harsh, gravely yet piercing tone of a bird's call meshed with the smooth undertones of a deep-voiced man. "YOU CHOOSE TO DENY OTHERS THE WISDOM YOU DEEM YOURSELF WORTHY TO POSSESS. I AM YOUR RAPTURE, THE ONE CHOSEN TO HALT YOUR OPPRESSION OF KNOWLEDGE." It flapped its wings once. "FROM THIS DAY FORTH, YOUR 'NORMALCY,' YOUR 'VEIL' WILL BE SHATTERED, AND ALL WILL BE BEHOLDEN TO THE KNOWLEDGE YOU PREVIOUSLY KEPT UNKNOWN." Releasing its talons from Samantha, who had mercifully gone limp, the creature flapped its wings and started rising above the ground. Powerful gusts of wind blew loose papers, the occasional dark brown feather, and calendar pages whirling through the air. The wind summoned ripples in the puddle of blood stemming from Samantha's body as the creature flew in the direction of the stairwell, toppling cubicle walls with its formidable wings. Antonio could do nothing but sit there and watch the blood pool further toward him as the loose papers and feathers settled onto the ground. As the emergency lights continued to illuminate the walls of his cubicle periodically, Antonio realized just how wrong he had been about his new job. ---- "Watch your step," Site-14 General Director Jane Dani said as she hurried down the staircase from Level E to Level D. "The last thing we need right now is a broken ankle." The tiny, drab stairwell was awash with red light, lending it an otherworldly feel- which wasn't that uncommon in her line of work. Five minutes ago, Jane had been reviewing the past month's productivity reports when the emergency lights had switched on in place of the usual stark fluorescent glare. Abner Croft, the head of Site-14 security, burst out of the Site Surveillance Center. He announced to all Level E residents that they were in the middle of a Code Scarlet Crisis Scenario: One or more hostile entities had breached site security. MTF Omicron-67 ("Zeroth Responders") was currently occupied responding to an anomalous object, leaving Site-14 with no defense except for a few dozen Security Officers. After quelling the panic to a manageable level, Abner instructed them all to follow Evacuation Plan 14-S-04: Half of the floor was to try to exit the building via the northern stairwell, and the other half via the southern. That way at least half of them might survive. After Abner hurriedly divided the staff roughly in half, Jane found herself leading a horde of accountants, IT techs, and executives to Level A in hopes of fleeing the building. They passed by the entrance to Level D. Level 2 and 3 Telecommunications Monitoring Operatives streamed out, joining their party. As Jane took step after curt step, her echoing footsteps just one of many in a ceaseless din, she thought of her family. Despite her stern, collected appearance, her head was a maelstrom of fears and questions. What was going on? Who was attacking? What did they want? She knew practically nothing. Jane stumbled as the edge of her heel caught against a crack in the concrete floor. It was hard to see in the dim lighting. A nameless accountant caught her arm to help her regain her balance. "Thanks," she nodded in the direction of her aid. She needed to put up a courageous front for her employees right now. As the General Director of the Site, they were looking to her for assurance. Regardless, the panic within her was rising. If Jakob were here he'd know just how to calm her down. Level C. This time, a horde of Level 1 Telecommunications operatives crammed themselves into the stairwell, occupying most of the little remaining space left. Jane found herself drawing her arms into her body as her thoughts shifted to those of Jakob. What was he going to do if she died here? He certainly couldn't care for their children alone. Her panic spiked as she turned the corner. //Their children.// If she didn't make it home tonight, they'd be motherless. Jane was the provider for her family; without her, they'd have a small savings account and no more. What if they ended up on the streets? Jane found her breaths growing quicker and shallower as the onset of a panic attack peered through the haze of fear in her mind. Heartbeat speeding up, Jane forced herself to focus on the task at hand. There would be time to hyperventilate later. Right now, she needed to get these people to safety. As the dark spots in her vision started disappearing, Jane spotted a sign on the wall - Level B. Almost there. She allowed herself a sigh of hesitant relief- maybe they'd be okay. Maybe they'd get out safe after all. "Almost there, everyone," she called out, to several prayers and thank-yous to various deities. Jane let a tight-lipped smirk slip at their blind faith- something everyone loses once they attain the right clearance. Suddenly, a man burst out of the door at the bottom of the staircase. He had blood splattered on his stark off-white shirt; likely somebody else's since he seemed uninjured, if out of breath. His eyes wide with fear, lungs heaving, he started clambering up the stairs. "IT'S COMING!" he yelled, gasping for air. As soon as Jane had processed this, the door and wall surrounding it crashed in with a shower of debris. A hulking, gore-covered... //thing// with massive eagle wings burst through, cracking the opposing wall. Screams started sounding as the horde of executives tailing Jane started shoving their way through the crowd, pushing confused employees who didn't know what was happening yet into the walls. One unlucky soul fell over the railing and hit the floor near the birdman with a sickening crunch. Using the body to propel itself forwards, the birdman flew at Jane, eyes black and merciless, as Jane had the time for just one last thought: //Fuck.// ---- The 6th Wandsman of Wisdar ripped its claws through the poised woman at the head of the crowd of fleeing Foundation worms. The others fell over each other trying to get out of the way of his talons, but he paid them little mind as his gaze snapped to the passage upwards. He screeched once, sending waves of energy rippling through the mass of bodies, and beat his wings, sending him hurling through the stairs above. Bodies flew like ragdolls as powerful gusts of wind flowed through the tiny vertical corridor. The Wandsman knew little of the Foundation's "Site-14," beyond three simple facts: # It's one of the Foundation's major sites # The obfuscation of anomalies is one of its primary concerns # It's vulnerable It was the perfect target. Site-14 possessed all the qualities of the Foundation the Wandsman found most evil, without the security of other locations. His goal was to eliminate the servers on the top floor of the building, hindering Foundation efforts throughout the entire western half of the world. Bringing the Foundation employees he was currently tossing aside to justice was nothing more than a bonus. Slowing his upward descent as he approached the ceiling, the Wandsman flapped his wings once, sending him crashing through the door labeled "LEVEL E" and into the server room for Site-14. The room held the hardware containing the ESAS algorithm: a technology used by the Foundation to detect anomalies throughout the western hemisphere. Looming rows of computer banks lined the room, green LEDs turned yellow by the still pulsing red emergency lights. Chairs were overturned and documents littered the floor; the room had been thrown into disarray by employees' rush to evacuate. The Wandsman was almost disappointed there were no Foundation personnel left on the floor- making them pay would have brought a smile to his beak, so to speak. After a moment of surveying the room, the Wandsman cawed twice, unleashing a devastating wave of magical energy. The tower closest to him collapsed backward, crashing into another and starting a domino effect. Sparks flew, metal ground against metal, and the Wandsman began his actual work. Bank after bank, tower after tower, the Wansman held no mercy for the unthinking machinery. His wicked talons gouged into CPUs, monitors, wires, and more, sliding through them like butter. Undeterred by the risk of electrocution or laceration by the jagged metal edges, he continued, destroying dozens of servers. With the annihilation of these machines, the Foundation would no longer be able to listen to human calls about anomalies, ergo, they would not be able to contain said anomalies. The Wandsmen had always been against the concealment of knowledge; the 6th Wandsman of Wisdar was simply the first to take real action. Of course, nobody knew where he was at the moment. Most Wandsmen were pacifists- they'd rather sit in their libraries, writing articles and pleas for consideration. The Wandsman snorted. While knowledge was just as important to him as any of his peers, he was the only one who understood that action was needed for change. So he did what any good Wandsman would: he researched. He researched universes, he researched worlds within said universes, and he researched organizations within said worlds. Eventually, he settled upon the Foundation. While other worlds had similar establishments, the Foundation was so egregiously committed to the obfuscation of knowledge and possessed so much power that the Wandsman knew he had found his target. So he prepared. He identified how the Foundation accomplished its repulsive mission, found a weak spot, and like his avian ancestor, dove for it. Pausing again, the Wandsman beat his wings several times, blowing computer parts around the room in a silicon tornado, shredding dozens of banks. Sparks flew and metal screeched, gouging the walls and smashing the emergency lights. After the havoc wreaked here, it was obvious that Site-14 would take weeks to recover at the very least. Hopefully more. He already had his sights set on his next target and would be en route as soon as he was finished here. The Wandsman paused once more to survey the carnage. Shards of metal littered the floor. The previously pristine, state-of-the-art server banks were in ruins, with nothing but the occasional blinking light to signal that they were ever more than useless piles of rubble. What little furniture had previously decorated the space was now nothing more than splinters. Satisfied with his work, the Wandsman turned to the west-facing wall. Summoning his strength, he let loose a powerful screech, blasting a portion of the building to dust. Running for the edge, talons crunching on shattered bricks and twisted metal, he leapt through the opening and took flight. It was the middle of the winter in California and the sky was cast over with clouds. The sharp cold most Californians struggled with had no chance of permeating his rugged feathers. As he flew away from the scene of his triumph, he scanned the city for threats with a piercing stare- and spotted one immediately. A platoon of soldiers was spread out in front of him. Two on that building, seven in the parking garage, three jeeps scattered across a parking lot, and dozens more in various other places. Worried now, the Wandsman flew higher and faster, tucking into an paradoxical "upward dive" as he reduced the area available on his body mass. But he was too late. Bullets whizzed past him, seconds apart and inches from hitting him. Panic rising in his mind, the 6th Wandsman of Wisar began unfurling his map. Attacking his next target would have to wait. He needed to abscond to Wandsman headquarters, regardless of the consequences. But it was too late. A round of bullets shredded his map, and in turn, his chest. With an awkward squawk of pain, the Wandsman began falling. Wind rushed through his wings and the holes in his chest as he struggled to stay afloat. More bullets, in his wings this time. Sinking into a plummet, the Wandsman had no space in his head for regret or last words through the haze of pain. His last thought before hitting the ground was one of agony. As the Foundation soldiers surrounded his body and bound him, he bled out, taking a lifetime of knowledge with him to the grave. ----- [[div class="blockquote" style="background: rgba(38, 0, 95, 0.5) !important; border: 0.125rem dotted #624693 !important; color: white; font-family: serif;"]] = [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/vivarium-s-artpage/Wandsmen_Invert.png width="25%"]] [[=]] ++ TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN [[/=]] Regarding the recent assault of your Site-14,* Us Wandsmen send our deepest condolences. We know all too well how it feels to suffer an attack from what one perceives as a great evil, and we know our words cannot begin to repay you for the lives and costs you have suffered. In respect to your assailant, we have much the same view as you. The 6th Wandsman of Wisdar, as was his title, acted on his own, unannounced, and against our core principles. Had we known of his mission before he took flight, we would have taken every effort to stop him. As it stands, the Wandsmen at large had nothing to do with his attack and everything against it. His tale will be preserved as a cautionary anecdote for those following in his footsteps. [[>]] //- The Third Wandswoman of Aellei// [[/>]] [[/div]] Setting the letter down on his desk, Kevan Samuels sighed. He could barely muster the energy to feel slighted by the Wandsmen's words. While they claimed no part in the recent attack on Site-14, tensions between the interdimensional reporters and the Foundation had heightened nonetheless. That was the Department of Advanced Diplomacy's job to take care of. Kevan had more than enough on his plate already. Stretching, Kevan got out of his seat and walked three feet to the door of his new office. Foundation cleanup crews were still hard at work clearing rubble and searching for usable parts among the wreckage littering Level E. While most of the smaller chunks of debris were gone, twisted computer towers still littered the room, IT technicians flitting from one to the next to identify anything salvageable. It would be weeks at the very least until ESAS was functional again. This meant that in addition to the cost of repairing the site, Site-14's budget would have to go towards not just hiring more employees to- Kevan grimaced as he thought the words- //replace// those who had been lost during the attack, but also towards overtime pay for employees picking up ESAS's slack. Kevan groaned and looked away, needing a distraction from the dozens of tasks sitting before him. At this rate, he was going to get another migraine. His gaze settled upon his new desk. Covering it sat relics from its previous owner, the last General Director of Site-14, Jane Dani. A cup reading "World's [REDACTED] Director" held half a dozen pens and pencils, all sharpened to a point. Lined up in a neat row were artifacts from home: a crayon drawing, a colorful bracelet, and a family picture. A state-of-the-art modem was positioned in the corner, dust covering the keyboard. Kevan let out a weak chuckle. Jane never was great with technology. Heart sinking, Kevan tried not to think of his old mentor. Tried not to think of stepping over her body to flee from the attacker. Tried not to think of scrubbing her blood from his clothes. Tried not to think of sobbing himself to sleep that night, haunted by the ghosts of his coworkers and the responsibilities of his future. Focusing his attention back on his new duties, Kevan sighed and put his head in his hands. He wasn't ready for this. [[>]] [[image http://filedmns2.wikidot.com/local--files/dokumentoz/TMObottomBar.png width="450px"]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wikimodule">:scp-wiki:component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: TMObottomBar.png > Author: [[user Agente Shuffle]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: TMOtopBar.png > Author: [[user Agente Shuffle]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Wandsmen_Invert.png > Author: [[user Vivarium]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vivarium-s-artpage SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-05T06:45:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "tale", "telecom-office", "wandsmen" ]	Rapture - SCP Foundation	24	[ "site-14-secure-facility-dossier", "hanging%20on%20the%20telephone", "scp-7158", "ddd-2034", "picture-this", "gamers-against-war", "for-your-eyes-only-a-tale-of-the-tmo", "art:say-it-with-me-everybody", "art:remember-to-stalk", "art:what-to-expect-from-earth-s-new-orbit", "battleblockb0ss-s-author-page", "art:vestigial-memory-syndrome", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "vivarium-s-artpage" ]	[ "wandsmen-hub", "telecommunications-monitoring-office-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "revamped-underread-and-underrated" ]	[ "http://filedmns2.wikidot.com/local--files/dokumentoz/TMOtopBar.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/vivarium-s-artpage/Wandsmen_Invert.png" ]	1445888953	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rapture-a-tale-of-the-tmo
rate-my-director	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="rmd_crom.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/rate-my-director/rmd_crom.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>.</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="rating" style="margin: 0px;"> <p>RateMyDirector is the <em>only</em> website that allows Foundation personnel to anonymously rate your Site Director. Is your SD having you work overtime with threats of Keter Duty? Have they removed the good coffee machines from the researchers' lounges? Or are they a great boss that brings in a cake every birthday? Let your fellow employees know, or check out a Director's page to see ratings left by real personnel!</p> </div> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Not a researcher? Be sure to check out our partners <strong><span style="color: red"><a href="javascript:;">RateMyCommander</a></span></strong> and <strong><span style="color: green"><a href="javascript:;">RateMyLibrarian!</a></span></strong></em></p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc0"><span>Search results for: <span class="flag">Flagged by RAISA</span></span></h2> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Varga (Site-91)</span> <p>Honestly I never know what she's thinking. Emotional openness is not Varga's deal. But on the positive side, she's basically ageless. Been a Director since the mid-80s and she's looked roughly 45-55 years old that whole time. Skeptical to a fault, but that makes sense in the position. Quietly fierce, protective of her agents, and inscrutable. Rating two stars based on being totally clueless as to who she really is.</p> <p>Nice library though.</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> She can't read these right??</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Mendoza (Site-351)</span> <p>Insists all physical reports are folded “hot-dog style.”</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Barrett (Site-184)</span> <p>This guy is potentially the kindest man I’ve ever met. He genuinely cares about all of his employees, but my god the shit he gets into during his research would scar a torture-trained navy seal. How this guy can read, research, and publish pieces about some of the most disgusting, horrifying things and come out the other end asking if people want to get donuts with him is insane. I hope he’s okay. There’s not a lot behind those eyes.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Forkley (Department of Miscommunications)</span> <p>Said it was "opposite day" at orientation.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <hr/> <p>You never can quite tell whether the man is writing new goals in the group chat or having a stroke. If you were to actually see how he lives, in 99% of the cases you'd think it's the latter. One star.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Thereven (Site-107)</span> <p>Nice enough guy, but when they promoted him to Director he divided all the Site personnel into three teams and assigned us an elaborate competition with different scorings and points. It wasn't clear if it was like an icebreaker or a team building exercise, but no one really worked on it. We all just kind of ignored it while doing our regular routines. He stopped talking about it after a month and I can't tell if he forgot or is just self-conscious about the thing and doesn't want to bring it up.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>Dude, your vibes are rancid.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Howards (Site-16)</span> <p>Explained in depth how, strictly speaking, D-Class can't have rights because they're vat-grown clones that have no value to society other than to shuffle off their mortal coil. I just wanted a glass of water from the cooler.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Trintavon (Site-37)</span> <p>Extremely personable, intelligent, and well-kept. I have never worked under a better leader, nor do I expect to ever find one. They keep morale high, tension and breaches low, and are probably the nicest guy you'll meet. That said, they would've worked better as a researcher, so 1 star.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>I told him I was former US military on my first day and he would not stop asking me about boats. He has an entire filing cabinet dedicated to pictures of military boats. Probably tens of thousands of them. I told him I was Army and didn’t care for boats or the navy and he called me a shit-eating heel. Haven’t had a word with him since.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Xyank (Temporal Anomalies Department)</span> <p>I am half convinced they keep going back in time to remedy any complaints made on this site.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Swore at me in six different Fae ideolects and I ended up growing a tail.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Wheeler (Site-41)</span> <p>I remember my first day like it was yesterday. Me and this other guy were getting onboarded, and the other guy stumbled onto something that was a 'teachable moment' sort of deal, so she took him aside and I guess they went on some sort of adventure! Anyway that guy died horribly because the floor became invisible name-eating cockroaches or something — this was during the adventure, <em>inside the Site!</em> — and she got a bruised ankle or something, and now there's a hole in the universe where the guy used to be, but you can still sort of hear him screaming if you take expired mnestics. She's never once singled <em>me</em> out for a teachable moment, and I love her for it!</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Scarborough (Site-58)</span> <p>Called my lunch “ethnic”. It was fucking mac and cheese with hot dog slices in it.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Scarborough (Site-58)</span> <p>Rating him one star isn’t enough I need him dead</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director McInnis (Site-43)</span> <p>She is <em>intensely</em> unprofessional in every interaction. She took over a presentation because she found the real presenter's voice "too boring." She reported my friend to security for listening to Ed Sheeran — <em>with headphones, in their dorm room.</em> She once wiped a guy's memory for asking her on a date and then refusing to give her his wallet as "collateral." She stole my shoes and wore them and when confronted said she assumed <em>I'd</em> stolen them because I "looked too poor to have good taste in shoes."</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> I have been informed that the individual described above is not in fact Director McInnis. I amend my review: he is <em>intensely</em> unprofessional in every interaction. He swears every other word, he is <em>constantly</em> mocking the guy who does replication studies, he never leaves the archives and every time you ask him a question you can see him choking down a joke about your word choice. Also he looks like if Santa was homeless.</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> I have been informed that the individual described above is not, in fact, Director McInnis either. I have no fucking clue who the Director of this place is.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Ector (Site-216)</span> <p>Can be a bit of an ass but he puts up with us calling him Dir. Ector so I guess you win some, you lose some.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reigen (Site-119)</span> <p>One of the SIMULACRUM administrators forgot to patch the world boundary and my buddy Eric fell through the sandbox. Director Reigen was able to recover him but now his neck is several inches taller and his face is permanently tilted at a 45 degree angle. It makes standing near him in the urinals really nerve wracking.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Deputy Director Temple (Site-69, Stellar Affairs Division)</span> <p>one time I asked her who her favorite star trek character is and she said it was classified. good at her job though</p> <p><strong>EDIT:</strong> never mind I figured it out<br/> <em>(Rating changed from ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ to ⭐️⭐️⭐️)</em></p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Moose (Site-19)</span> <p>Human.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Cimmerian (Site-88)</span> <p>Told us he would start supplying lunches for the site after extensive complaints about pay and then on day 1 we get to the cafeteria and he’s handing out portions of dry ramen and dirty experiment water. Avoid at all cost</p> <p>Edit: Found out he actually just eats like that and didn’t know how hazardous it was. Not sure if I should add or remove a star</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dagon (Site-403)</span> <p>Keeps calling me Lloyd. My name is Samuel.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site-43)</span> <p>He's not a bad dude overall — he knows what he's talking about around 99% of the time. His weird fasination with esoterics is my main problem. I had to do some grunt work on his files when I was interning at 43. I had to keep making trips back and forth to the library to get the definitions of what a "Sapientia" means. He wouldn't let me take the reference out of the library because I "had to learn them this way." Pretty good at proof reading though.</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <blockquote> <p>His weird fasination with esoterics</p> </blockquote> <p>fasination —> fascination</p> <p>And I'm not a Director.</p> </div> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>I lost a bet.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bohart (Site-333)</span> <p>[SYSTEM NOTICE: Please fill your review. You cannot submit a blank page.]</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Whenever I go to his office with a complaint, he pretends he doesn’t speak English</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reverend (Holy Site-777)</span> <p>Sirius Reverend once cheated a djinn into giving him unlimited wishes. I'm pretty sure that's against the Theological Ethics Code of Conduct but after seeing him tear a daemon in half with his bare hands I dare not to report him. Those eyes have seen things no mortal should, and I fear the day that they may fall upon me and regard me with anything less than respect.</p> <p>He doesn't even use the wishes, by the way. He cheated the djinn just to prove he could.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>Awful. I’m pretty sure he only hired me because my personnel file said I was in Gamblers Anonymous. Constantly tried to provoke me into betting more than he knew he paid me. Which is next to nothing. He’s a morally- and I’m pretty sure literally-bankrupt scumbag who will sell out his entire senior staff for personal gain.</p> <p>However, the site does have two open bars. Three stars.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Forde (Area-12)</span> <p>I like shooting zombies and we get to shoot zombies</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Wiggins (Site-45)</span> <p>Always fucking stoned. He’s not normal about it either. He’ll call you into his office, pull up files you’re technically not allowed to be looking at, and take a massive fucking bong rip whenever he sees an esoteric object class.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Wiggins (Site-45)</span> <p>been coming here 16 years cant complain good guy hard worker respects the side hustle and never stiffs u with $</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Strong and engaging presentational skills, however you informed people twice within 2 minutes that they had 7 minutes left to finish their current task. I suggest using a timer in the future to avoid making simple errors like that, as they reflect poorly on your organizational skills.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Forkley (Department of Miscommunications)</span> <p>Suggested AI generation would make our work easier.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Ostrander (Site-232)</span> <p>As neither a scientist nor a professional administrator of any kind, Director Ostrander contributes very little to Site-232's internal operations. She has however advanced our mission inestimably, and has so far given me no reason to believe that I will be forced in the near future to employ highly experimental and untested Ontodimensional-Interstitium-Manipulating technologies in an attempt to decommission her, should such a thing even be possible. Also she might be able to read this right now. Before I even send it, I mean. Maybe before I typed it? Five stars.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Skeates (Site-106)</span> <p>Every Friday she lets us buy donuts from a local shop she thinks might be selling haunted donuts, to "test whether they're haunted or not."</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>whenever someone gets sent to the infirmary he asks if we need to amputate. I don't know what his degree is in but it definitely isn't medicine</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>Every month 322 gets a shipment of new supplies in because no one in this godforsaken place knows how to keep track of anything. Lague immediately stashes the sharpies and dry-erase markers in his office and makes a big deal whenever he uncaps a new one. My desk was right down the hall from his so he'd walk over, barge in, and force me to "sniff the tip." This happened around seventy times before I was transferred.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reigen (Site-119)</span> <p>I tried to report a complaint to Director Reigen but he started phasing through the literal floor. It felt really personal.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Wettle (Site-43)</span> <p>I only got to Site 43 a couple days ago but he’s an absolute ass for someone who’s a director of an entire site. Everyone laughs at me when I bring his name up too so I know it can’t just be me thinking it</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Come on people, this is mean.</p> <p>To the new hires.</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Cordol (<a href="/scp-7311">Site-57</a>)</span> <p>best director in the world. love youuuu 💕</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> WHORE</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lee (Site-501)</span> <p>I’m pretty sure the only reason why people stick around is because he’s either blackmailed half his staff or the other can’t remember why they wanted to leave in the first place. Between a greasy used cars salesman in a back-alley Denny’s and the Director, I would trust the former more.</p> <p>Two stars, I would give one if he was worse at his job.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bohart (Site-333)</span> <p>HONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONK</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Thereven (Site-43)</span> <p>Director Thereven is one of the best sports in the Foundation! He's always so welcoming and meets us all head first with a can do chin up attitude and he always gets back up from all the things that inexplicably happen to him. He didn't even get mad at me about that time I spiked his vodka with gasoline which caused him to turn into a frog man! Love him so much.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Thereven (Site-120)</span> <p>Doesn't speak polish, so he fits right in.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Theremin (Site-🎃)</span> <p>OOOOOOoooooooooOOooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Department Director Caspian (Site-184)</span> <p>I went to Ivo’s office for what he called my “orientation” and he was just sitting there in this black leather executive chair, back to the door, staring out the window. It was cloudy outside, always fucking cloudy. The walls were covered in these artifacts—relics and paintings and diagrams, I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at anything. His desk was this rich mahogany monstrosity, the kind with eighty drawers and sub-compartments, and on top is this white, almost crystal skull of some kind of sea animal. I got into 184 for a thesis on deep-sea crabs, but if I had to guess I’d say it was some kind of porpoise. Ivo pulled something out of the desk—a turquoise billiard ball—and set it gingerly down. He said I was to take five minutes before bed each night and stare into it, then I had to sleep right away. Make sure it’s the last thing I do every day. He gave me a number to call the following morning if I had the dream. He said I’d know the one.</p> <p>A thoroughly uncomfortable experience. This guy couldn't write his bulletin memos more purple if he tried. He went to the beach once and he thinks he’s Lovecraft or something. 2 stars.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>apparently this guy lives in a hotel. false advertising</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Skeates (Site-106)</span> <p>I misinterpret what "Procurement" in "Procurement and Liquidation" means, <em>once,</em> and she calls HR on me.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Remeni (Site-NULL)</span> <p>Ever since I met them I've been hearing voices in the shadows. My home feels geometrically dissimilar, but I can't tell what's changed. When I blink it feels like a millennium passes. My reflection refuses to meet my eyes. If I die tomorrow I fear I will wake up yesterday. It is so, so cold. Not even amnestics work. Help me.</p> <p>Their homemade cookies go hard, though.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director du Mourier (Site-118)</span> <p>One of the kindest directors I’ve had the pleasure of working with. A real force for change at an institution with deeply embedded values. We were all really impressed by her volunteering to spend a day as a test subject to highlight the plight and working conditions of D-class personnel.</p> <p>Applications for the recently vacated role are now being welcomed. The GoFundMe for du Mourier’s family will close next week.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Scout (Site-43)</span> <p>I have been away on an extended research sabbatical but I have no doubt Vivian is still well on top of things. How do baseline humans access these online bulletin boards? Do they run on telephone signals? I cheated.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Ahab (Site-851)</span> <p>I never studied pataphysics before transferring here and let me tell you, my degree in Anomalous Cantankereketosy did NOT help. I lost a leg in the first week, and an eye in the third. The worst part is I've started enjoying myself, I've really fallen in with the crew around here. I know I had other interests before coming aboard, academic and otherwise, but god-damn it I feel so focused now! So alive!</p> <p>That's the majority of the important stuff out of the way, but for anyone interested, the Site has a few unique qualities that I'll now divulge. We begin at the entrance to the Site, a warped walkway that, when traversing, seems to invite descension to the depths unaided. Once passed, one tro<strong>[Review continues for 38 pages. Read more?]</strong></p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Gat (Site-<span style="font-family: Cardo">⌘</span>)</span> <p>He keeps asking about something about agnostics?? I'm Catholic</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lutrin (Site-37)</span> <p>Highly intelligent man but a nightmare to work with. Incredibly verbose, constantly speaks in idioms. When I asked what the outcome of a research project was he told me, and I quote, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, the proof of the pudding is in the eating so don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!?</p> <p><strong>Reply 1, Anonymous:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Seconding.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply 2, Anonymous:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Thirding. Colleague died in a containment breach and he told me not to cry over spilt milk. Worst part was he said it with absolute sincerity.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply 3, Anonymous:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Hard agree.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply 4, Dir. Lutrin:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Well now you’re all just jumping on the bandwagon.</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reigen (Site-119)</span> <p>Keeps deleting research documents and claiming it's because they aren't "polished enough." Just use the edit feature. Please.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>Great guy to work for and with. One thing, when I told him I joined the Foundation in 2009 it set him on a violent tirade about how he doesn’t believe in that year because “who would make up such a ridiculous number.”</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bohart (Site-333)</span> <p>I was writing up our annual report on containment procedurs — those of you in the field will know what a time crunch that is — and Vincent walked into my office (well, my cubicle. shared cubicle), and told me he had something more important to do. When I tried to protest he unplugged my computer (technically just the monitor) and took it to his office. He came back with a stack of about 3,000 pages of paper. Apparently the printer malfunctioned overnight and printed off a document with the names, age, blood type, and "likelyhood to give their lives for Vincent Bohart in an emergency situation" of Site-333's employees nonstop. He told me I was promoted to "Secure Document Destruction Specialist" and responsible for dealing with it. Then he handed me these:</p> <p>He said honest work builds character, and that kids these days don't know anything about its value. I'm 2 years older than him.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site-43)</span> <p>I called it Canadia one time and he's never let it go.</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>It's where you <em>work!</em></p> <p>And I'm not a Director.</p> </div> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>🐠🐠</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Fisch (DSS-72)</span> <p>He won't tell us where the new mystery meat is coming from but we know. WE ALL KNOW.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Exvieenvie (Site-135)</span> <p>He installed one-way mirrors in all the employee break areas and started placing exotic foliage and camo nets around them. He also put in a pneumatic tube system that he mainly uses to send peanuts. I'm pretty sure he's stealing those from Five Guys</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Region (Site-119)</span> <p>I was doing text-to-speech and it autocorrected the name to region region Reagan R.E.I.G.A.N how do I go back and fix it?</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Naismith (Site-59)</span> <p>He assigned me to watch a movie called "IN APPROPRIATE WORKPL ACES" and write up a report. I thought it was a birthday present because he knows I enjoy that TotleighSoft stuff. Turns out it's a two thousand, nine hundred and twenty hour collation of low-budget sensitivity seminars overlaid with a constant loop of "Feelings" by Morris Albert. Also turns out this was his way of implementing a one-year at-work suspension.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director G Greeboni (Site-77-Prime, -SubPrime)</span> <p>he punched me and took my sandwich. i got mad but he told me it was ethical, so i am not mad anymore but happy. i hope i will get punched again tomorrow</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director I don't fucking know (Site-5)</span> <p>help.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Falkirk (Site-43)</span> <p>Called me a “Hindoo” and asked whether I would be starving myself this month. I’m Mexican.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">O5-1 (Site-01)</span> <p>I've worked under O5-1 for the last twenty years. He was an old withered shell of a man when I first met him and he has somehow become even smaller. I think it is from the hate keeping him alive — hate is very dense and pulls your skin in close. He's a good boss, though. We rarely do any work. He prefers to spend his days in some sort of meditative exercises, keeping the worries of the outside world away.</p> <p>Last week we went down to the river for three days. We spent the entire time in waders, water up to our knees, fly fishing in the creek. I'd almost think the water would knock him over, the man is so small, but he stood there, up to his waist and didn't capsize. O5-1 insisted that he gut and clean all the fish we caught himself, and I was in no hurry to tell him otherwise. They made for a delicious meal.</p> <p>But when we returned to Site-01, he told the other Overseers that he caught a fish this big, and stretched his arms out to their fullest. He lied. I caught that fish. A star falls from the heavens.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Taught me thaumaturgic swears</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Hourdoon (Lunar Area-32)</span> <p>Doesn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation we’re in here. Has one hell of a dark side.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>Oh god. Oh fuck. how could such a horrible monster be allowed to run a foundation site. I was doing my normal duties one day when oh god it's horrible even to think about, I saw Director House's true form. It was a giant undulating creature, like a snake, but its body was split into a hundred segments each with a mind of its own. Every one was speckled with stunted little legs. he coiled through site 666 like some great writhing worm horrible and terrible resplendent in the glories of death and knowledge. i couldn't help but stare and i know that if he realizes who i am i'm fucking doomed i'm fucking done for</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> I was under demonic influence when I wrote the above, Randall is just a guy</p> <p><strong>Edit 2:</strong> it's fucking real???</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>always fixes my printer for me</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dune (Area-179)</span> <p>Came over to my desk and asked me unprompted if I was a "pee-sitter." I was absolutely shocked and didn't know what to say but before I could even speak he goes "Yeah definitely" and walks away without another word.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>I was part of an exchange program with the Foundation. Paul kept asking me which "state of Africa" I was from. When I asked him to elaborate he said Africa was a country like the United States and "Nigeria is like your guys' version of New York, ya dig." I'm from Manchester.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>Ran into a issue regarding the accidental use of insulting language to subordinates on the basis of country of origin and immediately decided the best course of action was a Taco Tuesday event. The tacos weren’t half bad but the guy he insulted was from Brazil so it didn’t help.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director ??? (Site-69, Stellar Affairs Division)</span> <p>i’ve worked here for three years and i still don’t even know who the director is. best boss ever</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director G Greeboni (Site-77-Prime, -SubPrime)</span> <p>A reminder that acquiring D-Class Personnel to leave positive reviews of the Department of Aquisitions' Director is not only ethical, it is also in line with the rules and regulations stipulated in the DotMCM:EATM. Also it's very nice</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Alder (Site-55)</span> <p>I'm not sure she's 100% aware that we're becoming the quality assurance arm for Dr. Wondertainment.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director ███████ (Area-09)</span> <p>Wow hahaha "Director Blackbox" yeah this is Dr. Dan he replaced everyone in my division with their identical twin (turns out he only let me hire people with identical twins and somehow kept me from finding out, for <em>five years</em>) and had them conduct a forty-day psyop on me to trick me into joining a really obscure dating website for Groups of Interest people to test whether or not I was into the Serpent's Hand and even when I only swiped right on Foundation people all these Serpent's Hand people kept messaging me being like "you wanna set knowledge free" and "you know what's hotter than being a jailor? not being a jailor" and I later found out that all the profiles were him even though there were like fifty of them and it turns out he did all that because he memorized a list of all the people in the Serpent's Hand after stealing it from the Wanderers' Library via a heist involving the Mandela Effect and a multiversal door wedge and one of their names can be anagrammed into mine so he thought it might be me. And I think that's <em>great.</em></p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Great guy and mentor, but got stuck up a tree last week and it took 5 people and a fire crew to get him down again.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Scarborough (Site-58)</span> <p>I told him I was Irish and he asked what pride flag he should hang for me????</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dagon (Site-403)</span> <p>One of my colleagues pissed him off with some joke I can’t remember at this moment. The next day he gets his lunch and it’s been replaced with slugs. The day after his entire office was filled with slugs. Like an inordinate amount. Think of a lot of slugs in a confined area and then triple it. Fucking psychopath.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Possi (Site-59)</span> <p>Really easygoing and chill about lending us his high-energy orbital railgun for our projects! Made things much easier on everyone.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Light (Site-19)</span> <p>Sometimes when I'm eating lunch in the cafeteria I see her standing at the entrance. She holds a nondescript container, could hold any sort of food, and just sorta looks out across the room. After a few seconds she leaves.</p> <p>It's been a long time.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Iona Varga (Site-91)</span> <p>More like Iona Viagra am I right</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Argonne (Site-303)</span> <p>He summoned me to his office shortly after I transferred in for a "vibe check", which was just him staring and squinting at me for 15 minutes and silencing me every time I tried to speak. He let me go after that but he's been calling me "blorbo number ██" ever since. There are 16 other "blorbos" on site.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reigen (Site-119)</span> <p>Introduced "MILFs" to the SIMULACRUM simulation and I still haven't decided if I want to praise or denounce him for it.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Cimmerian (Site-88)</span> <p>I do not understand what he did to piss off Mother Nature so much that she has tried to kill him with a tree TWICE but I've taken it as a warning to stay away whenever possible.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>Tried to show me his collection of US space program patches.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>One Christmas he made an announcement he was going to 'Mr. Beast' everyone in the Site. We walk in the next day and the entire third floor was gutted and replaced with a large, red, crudely spray-painted circle and he forced us to stand within its perimeter to win "way too much money." After around an hour two people were literally sucked through the floor and were nowhere to be found. We found out afterward that since we're bordering with Hell they thought this was an offering. I won the money which is why he gets an extra star.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">DIRECTOR LOST (SOMEWHERE IN SITE-19, I THINK.)</span> <p>I DON'T KNOW HOW I GOT HERE. I LOST MY KEYCARD. THERE'S ONLY SO LONG THE HUMAN BODY CAN SURVIVE ON LUKEWARM CONDENSATION.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Hourdoon (Lunar Area-32)</span> <p>He claims on his Area profile that, and I quote, "My door isn't always open; sometimes it's even locked! But if you've got a complaint, just walk right up to my office and hit the release button." He put his office nameplate on the surface airlock. He's talking about the surface airlock.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">O5-2 (Site-7, RAISA)</span> <p>ran over my foot with his wheelchair and then laughed and said “dance code monkey dance”</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Philips (Site-193)</span> <p>Pros: He can direct a Site. He is giving me free coffee for a month if I fill out this form.</p> <p>Cons: He makes his employees pay for coffee. On-site. In the arctic desert.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Shoggo (Area-17)</span> <p>From my first day, the Director has been watching over me. Sidling around a corner, oozing in a nearby toilet, and squeezing through the emergency ventilation ducts, her ocular pseudopods stare wide through their nictitating membranes. She often tries to comfort us recently-arrived researchers, bringing us into a warm embrace and congratulating us on our "clean vibrations". After offhandedly mentioning my overpowering homesickness to the other personnel in a sealed experiment chamber, no sooner had I returned to my chambers than I discovered an envelope, filled with illicit surveillance photographs of my closest kith and kin, replete with looks of complete happiness and ignorance of their observers.</p> <p>However, the Director must improve in her treatment of the meeting rooms. Whenever she uses them, the chairs are ripped open, the table is scuffed and warped, and the biscuits taste very sticky and wet inside our mouths.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>PAYS ME TO BEAT UP OTHER ASSHOLES.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Indunil (Lunar Area-91)</span> <p>Thank you for the invitation to fill out this review form, it was nice to receive an email typed by a real person. I am doing great up here and all my work is going fantastic, I am a good director. Any time you feel like sending another person or even two up here would be really appreciated I think it would boost productivity by a thousand percent and I would be able to talk to people in person. Please let me know when you have enough lunar rock samples and please reply to an email from me or send me a photo of a flower or my children.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dagon (Site-403)</span> <p>CONS: NEVER COMES INTO WORK. TYPES TOO SLOW.</p> <p>PROS: TECHNICALLY ALIVE(?)</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">O5-2 (Site-7, RAISA)</span> <p>hot assistant</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Collins (Site-03)</span> <p>She's a really great doctor and has good views on the ethical treatment of humanoid anomalies, but I think the "Kaiju Movie Nights" might be in slightly poor taste.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Aram (ARF-01, Amoni-Ram Initiative)</span> <p>he keeps finding me while im doing heavy lifting and asking me if i need a hand and i know its not an accident</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dagon: (Site-403)</span> <p>When he heard overwatch was going to cut our site's budget he put on outright battle armor to fight them on it! Not sure why it was made of latex and leather straps though</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Captain McCoy (FSS Vigilant)</span> <p>I know he isn’t really a Director but holy fuck this guy is nuts. He thinks he’s a pirate or some shit. Every single goddamn day it’s orders to mop the poop deck or hoist the sails or clean the dust galley. I told him that this is a nuclear submarine and that we don’t have any of those, and he threatened to make me walk the plank.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bailey (Site-87)</span> <p>Refused to promote me for six months because he wasn't sure I'd be a "core character," whatever that means. But last week we were investigating ghosts at the Jackson Sloth Memorial High gym, and I mentioned how much I hated gym class as a kid, and I resultantly spent the rest of the night trapped in the utility closet by ghost jocks while my team members were forced to play an endless game of ghost basketball to the <em>Space Jam</em> theme song. I got us out of there by pointing out that we were a visiting team, since none of us ever attended JSMH, and the ghost jocks were all using retired numbers which are unacceptable in extramural play. They still gave me an atomic wedgie on the way out. Felt like complete shit about it, and the next day Bailey promotes me because I "had my own POV episode." So <em>I don't know.</em></p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Donkey Kong (Site-79)</span> <p>I went to the Director's office and Donkey Kong was there. I think the Director is Donkey Kong (?) and I'm afraid to go back and check. I do like Donkey Kong though</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>He's been paying people to leave positive reviews.<br/> Edit: okay my check just came, how do I fix the rating</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Emerson (Site-13)</span> <p>Does not dress appropriately for work. Also a few other things I think but this is my main issue.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dagon (Site-403)</span> <p>Caught him after he fell down and all his body parts exploded like a lego guy. Had to spend the entire afternoon reassembling him.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Kijek (Area-21)</span> <p>She's conscientious, brilliant, and the absolute pinnacle of her field. She is also, if it's not inappropriate to say so, incredibly charming and beautiful and EDIT she's killing us she's KILLING US ALL she's FEEDING US INTO A KILLING US ALL MACHINE and she's spying on our socials but she doesn't check edits PLEASE HELP</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dir. Kijek:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Thank you! 😄</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Rivera (Site-120)</span> <p>She is very good at her job but it's kind of weird that she's almost 60 but uses reality warping powers to look 20</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director S.K.</span> <p>Pros: He’s a visionary. His projects are universally successful, and his work will be remembered for generations. For a 98-year-old he is surprisingly sprightly.</p> <p>Cons: Working with him can be gruelling. He is not the most communicative of directors, so when he makes you do one hundred fucking takes it's a little hard to see how well it's going. That, plus the exhaustion from one hundred fucking takes doesn't help much. Also he goes on and fucking on about the moon landing and faking his death. You'd think he'd be a little more wise to confidentiality.</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> okay I have no clue what this site is for. Please delete this review.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">O5-2 (Site-7, RAISA)</span> <p>nice guy but how do he and his bodyguard only have 5 limbs between them</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p><tt>WHEN I CAME IN TO FINISH SOME RESEARCH ONE MORNING, THERE HE WAS WITH HIS HEAD HALF IN THE TOILET. HIS HAIR WAS IN THE TOILET WATER. DISGUSTING.</tt></p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>He barges into meetings or cafeteria hours and just says his name like a Pokémon and leaves. It’s been three months of this and I have no idea what the end goal is.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Genai (Site-57)</span> <p>Bit of a weird character. Started off really fun, literally everyone wanted to talk to him and he always had something fun to say. The higher ups said they wanted to bring him in to help team exercises, but after a while he just kept on spouting these really weird comments. Not too fond of most groups it turned out. For some reason the computer whizzes kept dragging him in and out of the aic workshop, must have messed with his head a little. Anyway I haven't heard from him in ages, hope he's alright</p> <p><strong>Edit:</strong> Saw Genai recently, couldn't understand a word he said, he was acting like he'd only learnt English yesterday, but at least he's less problematic. Might have to make it two stars just for that.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Stroop (Site-102)</span> <p>passionate guy. races dogs. wants you to know about it. breeds them too. wants you to know about it. keeps vials of the good stuff in deep freeze. really wants to show it to you.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site-43)</span> <p>So a great guy overall, but one day I’m going about my business and I need to do my <em>business.</em> Head into the toilets, walk into a cubicle — and Director Blank is sat down on the throne in front of me, door unlocked. Aghast, I hurriedly make apologies and slam the door shut, convinced neither of us will mention this again. Pretty awkward right, but we’ll just move on?</p> <p>Not so. Every time I see the man he proceeds to scream “THREAT ENTITY!” in my face and chase me out the room we’re in. I’ve applied for a transfer, but he keeps vetoing it.</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Actually, I shout:<br/> "I'm not a Director."</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>FUCKING PATHETIC "ADMINS" THINK THEY CAN CAGE ME. I'M A WILD BULL. I'M A FUCKING FERAL WILDABEAST. THIS PISS-LAGUE IS LIKE A LITTLE PIGLET WITH HIS SHIT-TIGRATION PROGRAM. "LETS PUT THE ANOMALIES TOGETHER. WE CAN HAVE THEM WORK WITH STAFF!" ARE YOU STUPID? DID YOUR PARENTS DROP YOU OFF A BUILDING AS A BABY? NEVER MIX THOSE WEIRDOS TOGETHER.</p> <p>-HOGSLICE</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dir. Lague:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Hello Hogslice. While I understand that Integration Program is unorthodox, its entire purpose is to test experimental containment methods. I'll also have you know that it's had an 87% success rate.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Anon:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>ON BREAK AGAIN, ARE WE? BROWSING RATE MY DIRECTOR FOR THE FOURTH TIME TODAY, ARE WE? WHY DON'T YOU TAKE YOUR 87 PERCENT "SUCK" CESS RATE SOMEWHERE ELSE BEFORE I INTEGRATE MY FIST (DEADLY) WITH YOUR FACE (UNATTRACTIVE, PASTY, WEAK JAW).<br/> -HOGSLICE</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Dagon (Site-15)</span> <p>Had an absolute blast of a time working here. Coming from a rather-more prestigious Site-19, it felt strange to have a real nobody as my Director, but man did I make the most of it. Pierre never gets involved in your projects, you essentially have free reign regarding budget and scope. I know this isn't what some people look for at the Foundation but this guy is a total doormat!</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Henderson (<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/operation-galahad">Project Corbenic</a>)</span> <p>Did you know RMD existed when you taught us how to brain-phone? Prepare your ass for three moons' worth of one star reviews from beyond the grave!</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Thine (Noospheric Site-Ψ)</span> <p>He came to me in a dream. A good one; the motherfucker ruined it.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director N.N (Department of Acausal Linguistics)</span> <p>…an acausal loop within the Department's online review, suggesting that the mere process of reviewing our Department somehow bound the fabric of space-time into…</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Got weirdly into Rupaul’s Drag Race one month and kept using the phrases “slay” and “werk” in response to the most menial of things. He only stopped after he said slay to one of the Overseer’s factotums and it killed four people.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Skeates (Site-106)</span> <p>I misinterpret what "Liquidation" in "Procurement and Liquidation" means, <em>once,</em> and now there's an MTF at my office door.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reigen (Site-119)</span> <p>There was a problem at various Sites regarding amnestic abuse among lower level researchers. A majority instituted well thought out policies to combat the issue for the sake of the people and the facility. Reigen decided to go undercover <em>a la</em> Undercover Boss. He was found out in around 12 minutes because he kept asking people if they knew where he could get “the Perc 40.”</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site 43)</span> <p>Pretty great guy. When I first met him I swore he was around my age. I came to learn that he’s 74. Still kicking too! Good for him.</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>I'm 57.</p> <p>And I'm not a Director.</p> </div> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site-43)</span> <p>Stop calling my mom and telling her I don’t do my work</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Stop calling me a Director.</p> <p>I'm not a Director.</p> </div> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>I just transferred but from my experience with him, I'd say he's a great guy. Once bought me lunch when I forgot mine at home. Randall is a nice name.</p> <p>Is that enough, Director? Please put down the gun.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>Don't believe the claims that House is paying people to leave positive reviews. They're all liars, cheats, and bastards who have nothing better to do than bring down someone's success and happiness. Be better.<br/> — Dir. R. House</p> <p><strong>Reply, Anonymous:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>You forgot to remove your signature, dumbass.</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Ude (Site-738)</span> <p>On the seventh of every month, the Site receives its monthly supply of provisions. On the seventh of every month I receive a request from the director for three 1 gallon jars of Sysco mayonnaise delivered directly to his office. On the sixth of every month his secretary sends the three jars from the previous month back to the kitchen. They are always scraped clean. Once, a jar had the wrapper of a chocolate mint inside it, the type that would be on a hotel pillow. One time I sent light mayonnaise to him and he screamed at me for fifteen minutes. The director's office does not have refrigeration.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Scarborough (Site-58)</span> <p>Believed me when I said “quiero comer culo” meant “good work” in Spanish.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Scarborough (Site-58)</span> <p>very good directorim happ y to workfor him</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Cimmerian (Site-88)</span> <p>Keeps walking past the VKTM research team and referring to the recordings as “the ultimate pervert” and then walking away muttering about philosophy nonsense</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bohart (Site-333)</span> <p>No one told me when the Foundation left the Lucky Star Diner. I just came to work one day and they were tearing down the entire building to make way for a minigolf course. I didn't have the personal contact information of any of my co-workers or a way to get in touch with management. I hadn't heard anything about it one way or another. I ended up questioning the last several years of my life: had I really been working for a secret non-government institution? Was the anamolous real? I became obsessed, drove my family and friends away, started breaking into buildings throughought Atlantic City, glancing over my shoulder every day expecting to see some shadowy figure stalking me; had they meant to amnesticize me and forgotten? Would they come back to finish the job?</p> <p>This lasted for about a year. Then I realized I was still receiving bi-monthly payments from "SCPF_333" on my banking. Turns out they just forgot to tell me. I got an email directing me to this site in my personal account this morning. I've not worked a single day for them in the last decade, and they just keep sending me money.</p> <p>Vincent, wherever you are, fuck you. And thank you.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Westbrook (Site-246)</span> <p>Tried to baby trap my mom</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Geoffrey Quincy Harrison the Third (Site-322)</span> <p>I've never met the man in person, but he keeps sending me emails asking me to taste his gumballs. I've reported this to HR, but he won't stop.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Motte (Site-209)</span> <p>He's alright. But there was this one time I went to his office to pass him some papers and caught him wrapped in a giant cocoon-like a sleeping bag. It was gone the next time I stopped by but his office is now full of moth terrariums. I think I see his face on their wings.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director McDoctorate (Site-87)</span> <p>Impossible to understand a single goddamn word this man has put to the page unless you have a dictionary taped to your forehead</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>His SCiPNet profile picture depicted him with buck teeth, pale skin, and a bowl cut. He kept saying he was "hacked".</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>He does realise that 616 is the Number of the Beast, right? Right?</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director John Doe (Site-<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>)</span> <p>The first time I met Mr. Doe was at 3 AM in front of my house. I looked out the window and saw him floating in the distance, bathed in harsh light. Feeling like I was hallucinating, I called my roommate, but he had already disappeared.</p> <p>The next morning, I heard a rumor that "the dead who were wronged will return as a spirit of vengeance." Recalling the events of the previous night, my heart started pounding and I vomited from stress. I ran out of the building and when I looked behind me, I saw his vulgar eyes watching me. He knew what I did.</p> <p>Other than that, he's a pleasure to work with. Funny guy!</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Lague (Site-322)</span> <p>I want that twink obliterated</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">O5-4 (Site-01)</span> <p>We found this guy in the middle of the ocean claiming he’d been treading water for sixteen days straight and surviving on “sea gunk.” Made him an Overseer that very day.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site-43)</span> <p>WHITE MAN SPOTTED</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>great</p> <p>now spot a director</p> </div> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Brey (Site-12)</span> <p>fantastic doctor and fantastic director. i was admitted to site-12 for six months after exposure to a lethal anomaly, and she always made sure i was taken care of. in the best shape of my life now thanks to her. unfortunately i think she’s dead now so</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bold (Area-137)</span> <p><strong>Kicks</strong> so much ass! <strong>Babies</strong> who can't handle the workload need not apply. <strong>And</strong> another thing! <strong>Not</strong> every Director takes such a hands-on approach. <strong>Just</strong> look at his track record! <strong>Anomalous</strong> objects and entities, beware the Decommissioning Department! <strong>Babies</strong> who cry when humanoids die also need not apply. <strong>Normal</strong> people who can set aside morality and see the bigger picture are what he wants. <strong>Babies</strong>, I'm telling you, nothing to see here. <strong>Too</strong> cool for you! <strong>It's</strong> just the truth. <strong>Awful</strong> interested in joining our team? <strong>The</strong> application process is simple! <strong>Blood</strong>, sweat and tears required. <strong>Oh god</strong> you're gonna love it! <strong>Call</strong> the hiring team now to secure your position. <strong>The Ethics Committee</strong> rates him 5/5!</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director — ( )</span> <p>Edit: can someone please remove his ability to blank these responses?</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>Every week I have to log on here and say something like "come on guys, that's enough character assassination, this is the guy who got Belphegor <em>the Prince of Sloth</em> to sign the Undervegas Labour Pact" or "alright, don't overplay the supervillain angle, he only spends so much time staring out the big windows at the night skyline with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his Illuminati tie-clip while he chuckles softly because he knows you're watching and he likes to put on a show," and I'm getting sick of it. Yes, okay, at my interview he asked if I could beat him up, and when I said I didn't think so, he didn't want to hire me. Yes, <em>sure,</em> you can trace a line of causation from him shouting "Look what I can do!" and the death of Mother Teresa. And I'm not denying that his unfamiliarity with the names of the Seventy-Two Demons in the <em>Ars Goetia</em> nearly started an interdimensional incident when he was unexpectedly introduced to Count Furfur. And then Duke Vapula. And then King Purson. I had to force him to fake a stomach cramp by punching him in the gut before he met President Amy and got us all killed, and he specifically cited the punch in my next performance review as "hotter than hell, and I speak from authority." But on the other hand… yeah, I honestly can't remember where I was gonna go with the opposite side of this argument.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director McInnis (Site-43)</span> <p>Pros: He’s the only normal person at this Site.</p> <p>Cons: He’s the only normal person at his Site.</p> <p><strong>Reply, Dr. Blank:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Super-pros: HE'S THE DIRECTOR</p> </div> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Reigen (Site-119)</span> <p>Overall a good colleague. His work on the SIMULACRUM has paved new paths of research into thaumaturgic anomalies without needing to sacrifice nearly as many junior reserchers. However, his frequent inappropriate outbursts and proclivity towards deleting all of our progress whenever a janitorial staff member looks at him funny <em>has</em> made his genius difficult to work with at times.</p> <p>— Director Asheworth</p> <p><strong>Reply, Director Reigen:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Reesearchrs</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Reigen:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Creatures</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Reigen:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Giggle on my giblets you toe-sucking gargler!</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Reigen:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Researchers*</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Ashworth:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>Shit up. This is entirely unprofessional.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Reigen:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>hilarjsious. Now give my my star you fae loving fjck!</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Ashworth:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>This pisze Excwstlu wha't I’m gal I g about. Get hell.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Reply, Director Regina:</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>wehat itin the fuck did yut jsst say to me? I will gargle on your sfjckingb esophagus like an eccentricity forgetful grandma.</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>[invalid rating]</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Allison Eckhart (Bio Site-Allison Eckhart)</span> <p>Can't believe Allison Eckhart transferred from Secure Disposal Area Allison Eckhart to get away from this Allison Eckhart and Allison Eckhart FOLLOWED ALLISON ECKHART</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director House (Site-666)</span> <p>wouldn't let me eat hot cheetos in the library.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Blank (Site-43)</span> <p>Don't really care that you aren't the director I'd rather take the piss outta you than the guy in charge</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Caraway (Site-58)</span> <p>A wonderful person inside and outside of the workspace. My only issue is that they’re terrible at hiding when they’re pissed off. You can always tell when Faran’s having a bad day because they address everyone as “author” in a very respectful but spitting-on-your-boots tone. Great brownies also.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Asheworth (Site-120)</span> <p>Misspelled an email, made the computer sentient.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Grange (Site-138)</span> <p>It is so cool to be here doing science and containment at this site. I love to work with all of my scientist and buddies and Director Grange who is my boss (in this hierarchy we all enjoy) is great at telling us what to do with all of our time. I am the kind of scientist who loves to know important secrets about foundation and I enjoy sharing them with all of my colleagues at Site 138 because we are all given clearance to share our favourite secrets about anomalies and the foundation. There aren't any issues here and we love to kill anomalies every week for our entertainment as a staff exercise, and we all get paid to do fantastic things like keep real people hostage. I love my job here and I encourage anyone to write an application for transfer to Site 138 to No. 38 Ophidia Lane, Three Portlands and TELL NO ONE AT YOUR CURRENT SITE to give them an awesome surprise when you transfer.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️⭐️⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director John Doe (Department of Unreality)</span> <p>sometimes, if i think too hard about what it'd be like not to think, i bump into a barrier. I do not know who put it there.</p> </div> <div class="rating"> <div class="stars"> <p>⭐️</p> </div> <br/> <span class="ratee">Director Bohart (Site-333)</span> <p>Wow this place is a shitshow. I don’t respect literally any of you people.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="RAISA"> <h3 id="toc1"><span>NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS, ARCHIVAL, AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION</span></h3> <p>The <strong>RateMyDirector</strong> program has been suspended for the foreseeable future due to extraordinary abuse.</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/rate-my-director">Rate My Director</a>" by Aftokrator, AnActualCrow, bigslothonmyface, Cyvstvi, DodoDevil, Dr Trintavon, Dysadron, EmotionalEntropy, Fishish, GremlinGroup, Grigori Karpin, HarryBlank, Its a Bad Idea, J Dune, JakdragonX, LightlessLantern, Limeyy, LORDXVNV, MrBadFellow, OriTiefling, Pedagon, PlaguePJP, pr0m37h3um, R4_EX, Ralliston, Rounderhouse, Snapdragon133, stephlynch, stormbreath, and Trotskyeet, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/rate-my-director">https://scpwiki.com/rate-my-director</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> rmdstroke2.png, rmd_crom.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052849" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rate-my-director">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Scissors.jpg<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> OrangePinkingShears<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Jeffqyzt<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:OrangePinkingShears.JPG">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Roboto+Slab:wght@700&display=swap'); :root { --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/rate-my-director/rmdstroke2.png"); --header-title: ""; --header-subtitle: ""; --bright-accent: 50, 168, 82; --dark-accent: 33, 112, 54; --header-gradient-color-bottom: 33, 112, 54; --header-gradient-color-middle: 50, 168, 82; --header-gradient-color-top: 50, 168, 82; } #header::before { opacity: 1; } #page-title, h2 { font-family: 'Roboto Slab', serif; color: green; } .rating { margin: 2rem; background: #fff; padding: .3rem 1.5rem; border-radius: 2rem; box-shadow: 3px 3px 5px 2px rgba(0,0,0,0.15); border-top: 4px solid green; } .rating hr { border-top: 2px solid green; } .ratee:before { content: "RATING: "; font-size: 1rem; color: green; } .ratee { font-family: 'Roboto Slab', serif; font-size: 125%; } .stars { font-size: 130%; float: right; } .flag { font-size: 60%; color: #640000; background: #ffabab; padding: 10px none; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 10px; border-radius: 15px; border: 2px solid #640000; } .RAISA { background: #f2f2c2 url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aredtape/raisa_trans.png') center center no-repeat; background-size: 29rem; text-align: center; border: solid 3px #444; padding: 1.5rem; margin-bottom: 10px; color: black; } [[/module]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Cardo:wght@700&display=swap') [[/module]] [[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/rate-my-director/rmd_crom.png\|caption=.]] [[/div]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="rating" style="margin: 0px;"]] RateMyDirector is the //only// website that allows Foundation personnel to anonymously rate your Site Director. Is your SD having you work overtime with threats of Keter Duty? Have they removed the good coffee machines from the researchers' lounges? Or are they a great boss that brings in a cake every birthday? Let your fellow employees know, or check out a Director's page to see ratings left by real personnel! [[/div]] = //Not a researcher? Be sure to check out our partners ##red\|[# RateMyCommander]## and ##green\|[# RateMyLibrarian!]##// ---- ++ Search results for: [[span class="flag"]]Flagged by RAISA[[/span]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Varga (Site-91)[[/span]] Honestly I never know what she's thinking. Emotional openness is not Varga's deal. But on the positive side, she's basically ageless. Been a Director since the mid-80s and she's looked roughly 45-55 years old that whole time. Skeptical to a fault, but that makes sense in the position. Quietly fierce, protective of her agents, and inscrutable. Rating two stars based on being totally clueless as to who she really is. Nice library though. Edit: She can't read these right?? [!-- {Grigori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Mendoza (Site-351)[[/span]] Insists all physical reports are folded “hot-dog style.” [!-- {Trotsky} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Barrett (Site-184)[[/span]] This guy is potentially the kindest man I’ve ever met. He genuinely cares about all of his employees, but my god the shit he gets into during his research would scar a torture-trained navy seal. How this guy can read, research, and publish pieces about some of the most disgusting, horrifying things and come out the other end asking if people want to get donuts with him is insane. I hope he’s okay. There’s not a lot behind those eyes. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Forkley (Department of Miscommunications)[[/span]] Said it was "opposite day" at orientation. [!-- {Fishish} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] ---- You never can quite tell whether the man is writing new goals in the group chat or having a stroke. If you were to actually see how he lives, in 99% of the cases you'd think it's the latter. One star. [!-- {Ralliston} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Thereven (Site-107)[[/span]] Nice enough guy, but when they promoted him to Director he divided all the Site personnel into three teams and assigned us an elaborate competition with different scorings and points. It wasn't clear if it was like an icebreaker or a team building exercise, but no one really worked on it. We all just kind of ignored it while doing our regular routines. He stopped talking about it after a month and I can't tell if he forgot or is just self-conscious about the thing and doesn't want to bring it up. [!-- {Dodo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] Dude, your vibes are rancid. [!-- {stormbreath} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Howards (Site-16)[[/span]] Explained in depth how, strictly speaking, D-Class can't have rights because they're vat-grown clones that have no value to society other than to shuffle off their mortal coil. I just wanted a glass of water from the cooler. [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Trintavon (Site-37)[[/span]] Extremely personable, intelligent, and well-kept. I have never worked under a better leader, nor do I expect to ever find one. They keep morale high, tension and breaches low, and are probably the nicest guy you'll meet. That said, they would've worked better as a researcher, so 1 star. [!-- {Trint} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] I told him I was former US military on my first day and he would not stop asking me about boats. He has an entire filing cabinet dedicated to pictures of military boats. Probably tens of thousands of them. I told him I was Army and didn’t care for boats or the navy and he called me a shit-eating heel. Haven’t had a word with him since. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Xyank (Temporal Anomalies Department)[[/span]] I am half convinced they keep going back in time to remedy any complaints made on this site. [!-- {Trint} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Swore at me in six different Fae ideolects and I ended up growing a tail. [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Wheeler (Site-41)[[/span]] I remember my first day like it was yesterday. Me and this other guy were getting onboarded, and the other guy stumbled onto something that was a 'teachable moment' sort of deal, so she took him aside and I guess they went on some sort of adventure! Anyway that guy died horribly because the floor became invisible name-eating cockroaches or something -- this was during the adventure, //inside the Site!// -- and she got a bruised ankle or something, and now there's a hole in the universe where the guy used to be, but you can still sort of hear him screaming if you take expired mnestics. She's never once singled //me// out for a teachable moment, and I love her for it! [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Scarborough (Site-58)[[/span]] Called my lunch “ethnic”. It was fucking mac and cheese with hot dog slices in it. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Scarborough (Site-58)[[/span]] Rating him one star isn’t enough I need him dead [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director McInnis (Site-43)[[/span]] She is //intensely// unprofessional in every interaction. She took over a presentation because she found the real presenter's voice "too boring." She reported my friend to security for listening to Ed Sheeran -- //with headphones, in their dorm room.// She once wiped a guy's memory for asking her on a date and then refusing to give her his wallet as "collateral." She stole my shoes and wore them and when confronted said she assumed //I'd// stolen them because I "looked too poor to have good taste in shoes." Edit: I have been informed that the individual described above is not in fact Director McInnis. I amend my review: he is //intensely// unprofessional in every interaction. He swears every other word, he is //constantly// mocking the guy who does replication studies, he never leaves the archives and every time you ask him a question you can see him choking down a joke about your word choice. Also he looks like if Santa was homeless. Edit: I have been informed that the individual described above is not, in fact, Director McInnis either. I have no fucking clue who the Director of this place is. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Ector (Site-216)[[/span]] Can be a bit of an ass but he puts up with us calling him Dir. Ector so I guess you win some, you lose some. [!-- {Trint} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reigen (Site-119)[[/span]] One of the SIMULACRUM administrators forgot to patch the world boundary and my buddy Eric fell through the sandbox. Director Reigen was able to recover him but now his neck is several inches taller and his face is permanently tilted at a 45 degree angle. It makes standing near him in the urinals really nerve wracking. [!-- {Jak} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Deputy Director Temple (Site-69, Stellar Affairs Division)[[/span]] one time I asked her who her favorite star trek character is and she said it was classified. good at her job though EDIT: never mind I figured it out //(Rating changed from ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ to ⭐️⭐️⭐️)// [!-- {Prom} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Moose (Site-19)[[/span]] Human. [!-- {Fishish} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Cimmerian (Site-88)[[/span]] Told us he would start supplying lunches for the site after extensive complaints about pay and then on day 1 we get to the cafeteria and he’s handing out portions of dry ramen and dirty experiment water. Avoid at all cost Edit: Found out he actually just eats like that and didn’t know how hazardous it was. Not sure if I should add or remove a star [!-- {Dagon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dagon (Site-403)[[/span]] Keeps calling me Lloyd. My name is Samuel. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site-43)[[/span]] He's not a bad dude overall — he knows what he's talking about around 99% of the time. His weird fasination with esoterics is my main problem. I had to do some grunt work on his files when I was interning at 43. I had to keep making trips back and forth to the library to get the definitions of what a "Sapientia" means. He wouldn't let me take the reference out of the library because I "had to learn them this way." Pretty good at proof reading though. Reply, Dr. Blank: [[div class="blockquote"]] > His weird fasination with esoterics fasination --> fascination And I'm not a Director. [[/div]] [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] I lost a bet. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bohart (Site-333)[[/span]] [SYSTEM NOTICE: Please fill your review. You cannot submit a blank page.] [!-- {Ralliston} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Whenever I go to his office with a complaint, he pretends he doesn’t speak English [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reverend (Holy Site-777)[[/span]] Sirius Reverend once cheated a djinn into giving him unlimited wishes. I'm pretty sure that's against the Theological Ethics Code of Conduct but after seeing him tear a daemon in half with his bare hands I dare not to report him. Those eyes have seen things no mortal should, and I fear the day that they may fall upon me and regard me with anything less than respect. He doesn't even use the wishes, by the way. He cheated the djinn just to prove he could. [!-- {Trint} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] Awful. I’m pretty sure he only hired me because my personnel file said I was in Gamblers Anonymous. Constantly tried to provoke me into betting more than he knew he paid me. Which is next to nothing. He’s a morally- and I’m pretty sure literally-bankrupt scumbag who will sell out his entire senior staff for personal gain. However, the site does have two open bars. Three stars. [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Forde (Area-12)[[/span]] I like shooting zombies and we get to shoot zombies [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Wiggins (Site-45)[[/span]] Always fucking stoned. He’s not normal about it either. He’ll call you into his office, pull up files you’re technically not allowed to be looking at, and take a massive fucking bong rip whenever he sees an esoteric object class. [!-- {Dune} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Wiggins (Site-45)[[/span]] been coming here 16 years cant complain good guy hard worker respects the side hustle and never stiffs u with $ [!-- {Dune} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Strong and engaging presentational skills, however you informed people twice within 2 minutes that they had 7 minutes left to finish their current task. I suggest using a timer in the future to avoid making simple errors like that, as they reflect poorly on your organizational skills. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Forkley (Department of Miscommunications)[[/span]] Suggested AI generation would make our work easier. [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Ostrander (Site-232)[[/span]] As neither a scientist nor a professional administrator of any kind, Director Ostrander contributes very little to Site-232's internal operations. She has however advanced our mission inestimably, and has so far given me no reason to believe that I will be forced in the near future to employ highly experimental and untested Ontodimensional-Interstitium-Manipulating technologies in an attempt to decommission her, should such a thing even be possible. Also she might be able to read this right now. Before I even send it, I mean. Maybe before I typed it? Five stars. [!-- {MrBadFellow} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Skeates (Site-106)[[/span]] Every Friday she lets us buy donuts from a local shop she thinks might be selling haunted donuts, to "test whether they're haunted or not." [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] whenever someone gets sent to the infirmary he asks if we need to amputate. I don't know what his degree is in but it definitely isn't medicine [!-- {Prommy} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] Every month 322 gets a shipment of new supplies in because no one in this godforsaken place knows how to keep track of anything. Lague immediately stashes the sharpies and dry-erase markers in his office and makes a big deal whenever he uncaps a new one. My desk was right down the hall from his so he'd walk over, barge in, and force me to "sniff the tip." This happened around seventy times before I was transferred. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reigen (Site-119)[[/span]] I tried to report a complaint to Director Reigen but he started phasing through the literal floor. It felt really personal. [!-- {Jak} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Wettle (Site-43)[[/span]] I only got to Site 43 a couple days ago but he’s an absolute ass for someone who’s a director of an entire site. Everyone laughs at me when I bring his name up too so I know it can’t just be me thinking it Reply, Dr. Blank: > Come on people, this is mean. > > To the new hires. [!-- {Limeyy} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Cordol ([[[/scp-7311\|Site-57]]])[[/span]] best director in the world. love youuuu 💕 Edit: WHORE [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lee (Site-501)[[/span]] I’m pretty sure the only reason why people stick around is because he’s either blackmailed half his staff or the other can’t remember why they wanted to leave in the first place. Between a greasy used cars salesman in a back-alley Denny’s and the Director, I would trust the former more. Two stars, I would give one if he was worse at his job. [!-- {Em} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bohart (Site-333)[[/span]] HONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONKHONK [!-- {Sloth} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Thereven (Site-43)[[/span]] Director Thereven is one of the best sports in the Foundation! He's always so welcoming and meets us all head first with a can do chin up attitude and he always gets back up from all the things that inexplicably happen to him. He didn't even get mad at me about that time I spiked his vodka with gasoline which caused him to turn into a frog man! Love him so much. [!-- {Lord} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Thereven (Site-120)[[/span]] Doesn't speak polish, so he fits right in. [!-- {Lord} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Theremin (Site-🎃)[[/span]] OOOOOOoooooooooOOooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo [!-- {Dagon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Department Director Caspian (Site-184)[[/span]] I went to Ivo’s office for what he called my “orientation” and he was just sitting there in this black leather executive chair, back to the door, staring out the window. It was cloudy outside, always fucking cloudy. The walls were covered in these artifacts—relics and paintings and diagrams, I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at anything. His desk was this rich mahogany monstrosity, the kind with eighty drawers and sub-compartments, and on top is this white, almost crystal skull of some kind of sea animal. I got into 184 for a thesis on deep-sea crabs, but if I had to guess I’d say it was some kind of porpoise. Ivo pulled something out of the desk—a turquoise billiard ball—and set it gingerly down. He said I was to take five minutes before bed each night and stare into it, then I had to sleep right away. Make sure it’s the last thing I do every day. He gave me a number to call the following morning if I had the dream. He said I’d know the one. A thoroughly uncomfortable experience. This guy couldn't write his bulletin memos more purple if he tried. He went to the beach once and he thinks he’s Lovecraft or something. 2 stars. [!-- {Isabi} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] apparently this guy lives in a hotel. false advertising [!-- {Stormbreath} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Skeates (Site-106)[[/span]] I misinterpret what "Procurement" in "Procurement and Liquidation" means, //once,// and she calls HR on me. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Remeni (Site-NULL)[[/span]] Ever since I met them I've been hearing voices in the shadows. My home feels geometrically dissimilar, but I can't tell what's changed. When I blink it feels like a millennium passes. My reflection refuses to meet my eyes. If I die tomorrow I fear I will wake up yesterday. It is so, so cold. Not even amnestics work. Help me. Their homemade cookies go hard, though. [!-- {Trintavon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director du Mourier (Site-118)[[/span]] One of the kindest directors I’ve had the pleasure of working with. A real force for change at an institution with deeply embedded values. We were all really impressed by her volunteering to spend a day as a test subject to highlight the plight and working conditions of D-class personnel. Applications for the recently vacated role are now being welcomed. The GoFundMe for du Mourier’s family will close next week. [!-- {Dys} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Scout (Site-43)[[/span]] I have been away on an extended research sabbatical but I have no doubt Vivian is still well on top of things. How do baseline humans access these online bulletin boards? Do they run on telephone signals? I cheated. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Ahab (Site-851)[[/span]] I never studied pataphysics before transferring here and let me tell you, my degree in Anomalous Cantankereketosy did NOT help. I lost a leg in the first week, and an eye in the third. The worst part is I've started enjoying myself, I've really fallen in with the crew around here. I know I had other interests before coming aboard, academic and otherwise, but god-damn it I feel so focused now! So alive! That's the majority of the important stuff out of the way, but for anyone interested, the Site has a few unique qualities that I'll now divulge. We begin at the entrance to the Site, a warped walkway that, when traversing, seems to invite descension to the depths unaided. Once passed, one tro[Review continues for 38 pages. Read more?] [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Gat (Site-[[span style="font-family: Cardo"]]⌘[[/span]])[[/span]] He keeps asking about something about agnostics?? I'm Catholic [!-- {Snapdragon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lutrin (Site-37)[[/span]] Highly intelligent man but a nightmare to work with. Incredibly verbose, constantly speaks in idioms. When I asked what the outcome of a research project was he told me, and I quote, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, the proof of the pudding is in the eating so don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!? Reply 1, Anonymous: > Seconding. Reply 2, Anonymous: > Thirding. Colleague died in a containment breach and he told me not to cry over spilt milk. Worst part was he said it with absolute sincerity. Reply 3, Anonymous: > Hard agree. Reply 4, Dir. Lutrin: > Well now you’re all just jumping on the bandwagon. [!-- {Dys} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reigen (Site-119)[[/span]] Keeps deleting research documents and claiming it's because they aren't "polished enough." Just use the edit feature. Please. [!-- {Trint} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] Great guy to work for and with. One thing, when I told him I joined the Foundation in 2009 it set him on a violent tirade about how he doesn’t believe in that year because “who would make up such a ridiculous number.” [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bohart (Site-333)[[/span]] I was writing up our annual report on containment procedurs -- those of you in the field will know what a time crunch that is -- and Vincent walked into my office (well, my cubicle. shared cubicle), and told me he had something more important to do. When I tried to protest he unplugged my computer (technically just the monitor) and took it to his office. He came back with a stack of about 3,000 pages of paper. Apparently the printer malfunctioned overnight and printed off a document with the names, age, blood type, and "likelyhood to give their lives for Vincent Bohart in an emergency situation" of Site-333's employees nonstop. He told me I was promoted to "Secure Document Destruction Specialist" and responsible for dealing with it. Then he handed me these: [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/rate-my-director/Scissors.jpg]] He said honest work builds character, and that kids these days don't know anything about its value. I'm 2 years older than him. [!-- {Dodo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site-43)[[/span]] I called it Canadia one time and he's never let it go. Reply, Dr. Blank: [[div class="blockquote"]] It's where you //work!// And I'm not a Director. [[/div]] [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] 🐠🐠 [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Fisch (DSS-72)[[/span]] He won't tell us where the new mystery meat is coming from but we know. WE ALL KNOW. [!-- {Afto} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Exvieenvie (Site-135)[[/span]] He installed one-way mirrors in all the employee break areas and started placing exotic foliage and camo nets around them. He also put in a pneumatic tube system that he mainly uses to send peanuts. I'm pretty sure he's stealing those from Five Guys [!-- {Dodo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Region (Site-119)[[/span]] I was doing text-to-speech and it autocorrected the name to region region Reagan R.E.I.G.A.N how do I go back and fix it? [!-- {Crow} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Naismith (Site-59)[[/span]] He assigned me to watch a movie called "IN APPROPRIATE WORKPL ACES" and write up a report. I thought it was a birthday present because he knows I enjoy that TotleighSoft stuff. Turns out it's a two thousand, nine hundred and twenty hour collation of low-budget sensitivity seminars overlaid with a constant loop of "Feelings" by Morris Albert. Also turns out this was his way of implementing a one-year at-work suspension. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director G Greeboni (Site-77-Prime, -SubPrime)[[/span]] he punched me and took my sandwich. i got mad but he told me it was ethical, so i am not mad anymore but happy. i hope i will get punched again tomorrow [!-- {steph} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director I don't fucking know (Site-5)[[/span]] help. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Falkirk (Site-43)[[/span]] Called me a “Hindoo” and asked whether I would be starving myself this month. I’m Mexican. [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]O5-1 (Site-01)[[/span]] I've worked under O5-1 for the last twenty years. He was an old withered shell of a man when I first met him and he has somehow become even smaller. I think it is from the hate keeping him alive — hate is very dense and pulls your skin in close. He's a good boss, though. We rarely do any work. He prefers to spend his days in some sort of meditative exercises, keeping the worries of the outside world away. Last week we went down to the river for three days. We spent the entire time in waders, water up to our knees, fly fishing in the creek. I'd almost think the water would knock him over, the man is so small, but he stood there, up to his waist and didn't capsize. O5-1 insisted that he gut and clean all the fish we caught himself, and I was in no hurry to tell him otherwise. They made for a delicious meal. But when we returned to Site-01, he told the other Overseers that he caught a fish this big, and stretched his arms out to their fullest. He lied. I caught that fish. A star falls from the heavens. [!-- {Stormbreath} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Taught me thaumaturgic swears [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Hourdoon (Lunar Area-32)[[/span]] Doesn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation we’re in here. Has one hell of a dark side. [!-- {Dys} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] Oh god. Oh fuck. how could such a horrible monster be allowed to run a foundation site. I was doing my normal duties one day when oh god it's horrible even to think about, I saw Director House's true form. It was a giant undulating creature, like a snake, but its body was split into a hundred segments each with a mind of its own. Every one was speckled with stunted little legs. he coiled through site 666 like some great writhing worm horrible and terrible resplendent in the glories of death and knowledge. i couldn't help but stare and i know that if he realizes who i am i'm fucking doomed i'm fucking done for Edit: I was under demonic influence when I wrote the above, Randall is just a guy Edit 2: it's fucking real??? [!-- {Lord} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] always fixes my printer for me [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dune (Area-179)[[/span]] Came over to my desk and asked me unprompted if I was a "pee-sitter." I was absolutely shocked and didn't know what to say but before I could even speak he goes "Yeah definitely" and walks away without another word. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] I was part of an exchange program with the Foundation. Paul kept asking me which "state of Africa" I was from. When I asked him to elaborate he said Africa was a country like the United States and "Nigeria is like your guys' version of New York, ya dig." I'm from Manchester. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] Ran into a issue regarding the accidental use of insulting language to subordinates on the basis of country of origin and immediately decided the best course of action was a Taco Tuesday event. The tacos weren’t half bad but the guy he insulted was from Brazil so it didn’t help. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director ??? (Site-69, Stellar Affairs Division)[[/span]] i’ve worked here for three years and i still don’t even know who the director is. best boss ever [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director G Greeboni (Site-77-Prime, -SubPrime)[[/span]] A reminder that acquiring D-Class Personnel to leave positive reviews of the Department of Aquisitions' Director is not only ethical, it is also in line with the rules and regulations stipulated in the DotMCM:EATM. Also it's very nice [!-- {Dodo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Alder (Site-55)[[/span]] I'm not sure she's 100% aware that we're becoming the quality assurance arm for Dr. Wondertainment. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director ███████ (Area-09)[[/span]] Wow hahaha "Director Blackbox" yeah this is Dr. Dan he replaced everyone in my division with their identical twin (turns out he only let me hire people with identical twins and somehow kept me from finding out, for //five years//) and had them conduct a forty-day psyop on me to trick me into joining a really obscure dating website for Groups of Interest people to test whether or not I was into the Serpent's Hand and even when I only swiped right on Foundation people all these Serpent's Hand people kept messaging me being like "you wanna set knowledge free" and "you know what's hotter than being a jailor? not being a jailor" and I later found out that all the profiles were him even though there were like fifty of them and it turns out he did all that because he memorized a list of all the people in the Serpent's Hand after stealing it from the Wanderers' Library via a heist involving the Mandela Effect and a multiversal door wedge and one of their names can be anagrammed into mine so he thought it might be me. And I think that's //great.// [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Great guy and mentor, but got stuck up a tree last week and it took 5 people and a fire crew to get him down again. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Scarborough (Site-58)[[/span]] I told him I was Irish and he asked what pride flag he should hang for me???? [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dagon (Site-403)[[/span]] One of my colleagues pissed him off with some joke I can’t remember at this moment. The next day he gets his lunch and it’s been replaced with slugs. The day after his entire office was filled with slugs. Like an inordinate amount. Think of a lot of slugs in a confined area and then triple it. Fucking psychopath. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Possi (Site-59)[[/span]] Really easygoing and chill about lending us his high-energy orbital railgun for our projects! Made things much easier on everyone. [!-- {Sloth} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Light (Site-19)[[/span]] Sometimes when I'm eating lunch in the cafeteria I see her standing at the entrance. She holds a nondescript container, could hold any sort of food, and just sorta looks out across the room. After a few seconds she leaves. It's been a long time. [!-- {Snap} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Iona Varga (Site-91)[[/span]] More like Iona Viagra am I right [!-- {Dagon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Argonne (Site-303)[[/span]] He summoned me to his office shortly after I transferred in for a "vibe check", which was just him staring and squinting at me for 15 minutes and silencing me every time I tried to speak. He let me go after that but he's been calling me "blorbo number ██" ever since. There are 16 other "blorbos" on site. [!-- {Afto} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reigen (Site-119)[[/span]] Introduced "MILFs" to the SIMULACRUM simulation and I still haven't decided if I want to praise or denounce him for it. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Cimmerian (Site-88)[[/span]] I do not understand what he did to piss off Mother Nature so much that she has tried to kill him with a tree TWICE but I've taken it as a warning to stay away whenever possible. [!-- {Trint} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] Tried to show me his collection of US space program patches. [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] One Christmas he made an announcement he was going to 'Mr. Beast' everyone in the Site. We walk in the next day and the entire third floor was gutted and replaced with a large, red, crudely spray-painted circle and he forced us to stand within its perimeter to win "way too much money." After around an hour two people were literally sucked through the floor and were nowhere to be found. We found out afterward that since we're bordering with Hell they thought this was an offering. I won the money which is why he gets an extra star. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]DIRECTOR LOST (SOMEWHERE IN SITE-19, I THINK.)[[/span]] I DON'T KNOW HOW I GOT HERE. I LOST MY KEYCARD. THERE'S ONLY SO LONG THE HUMAN BODY CAN SURVIVE ON LUKEWARM CONDENSATION. [!-- {Cyvstvi} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Hourdoon (Lunar Area-32)[[/span]] He claims on his Area profile that, and I quote, "My door isn't always open; sometimes it's even locked! But if you've got a complaint, just walk right up to my office and hit the release button." He put his office nameplate on the surface airlock. He's talking about the surface airlock. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]O5-2 (Site-7, RAISA)[[/span]] ran over my foot with his wheelchair and then laughed and said “dance code monkey dance” [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Philips (Site-193)[[/span]] Pros: He can direct a Site. He is giving me free coffee for a month if I fill out this form. Cons: He makes his employees pay for coffee. On-site. In the arctic desert. [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Shoggo (Area-17)[[/span]] From my first day, the Director has been watching over me. Sidling around a corner, oozing in a nearby toilet, and squeezing through the emergency ventilation ducts, her ocular pseudopods stare wide through their nictitating membranes. She often tries to comfort us recently-arrived researchers, bringing us into a warm embrace and congratulating us on our "clean vibrations". After offhandedly mentioning my overpowering homesickness to the other personnel in a sealed experiment chamber, no sooner had I returned to my chambers than I discovered an envelope, filled with illicit surveillance photographs of my closest kith and kin, replete with looks of complete happiness and ignorance of their observers. However, the Director must improve in her treatment of the meeting rooms. Whenever she uses them, the chairs are ripped open, the table is scuffed and warped, and the biscuits taste very sticky and wet inside our mouths. [!-- {Lightless} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] PAYS ME TO BEAT UP OTHER ASSHOLES. [!-- {Snapdragon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Indunil (Lunar Area-91)[[/span]] Thank you for the invitation to fill out this review form, it was nice to receive an email typed by a real person. I am doing great up here and all my work is going fantastic, I am a good director. Any time you feel like sending another person or even two up here would be really appreciated I think it would boost productivity by a thousand percent and I would be able to talk to people in person. Please let me know when you have enough lunar rock samples and please reply to an email from me or send me a photo of a flower or my children. [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dagon (Site-403)[[/span]] CONS: NEVER COMES INTO WORK. TYPES TOO SLOW. PROS: TECHNICALLY ALIVE(?) [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]O5-2 (Site-7, RAISA)[[/span]] hot assistant [!-- {Prommy} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Collins (Site-03)[[/span]] She's a really great doctor and has good views on the ethical treatment of humanoid anomalies, but I think the "Kaiju Movie Nights" might be in slightly poor taste. [!-- {Stormbreath} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Aram (ARF-01, Amoni-Ram Initiative)[[/span]] he keeps finding me while im doing heavy lifting and asking me if i need a hand and i know its not an accident [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dagon: (Site-403)[[/span]] When he heard overwatch was going to cut our site's budget he put on outright battle armor to fight them on it! Not sure why it was made of latex and leather straps though [!-- {LORD} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Captain McCoy (FSS Vigilant)[[/span]] I know he isn’t really a Director but holy fuck this guy is nuts. He thinks he’s a pirate or some shit. Every single goddamn day it’s orders to mop the poop deck or hoist the sails or clean the dust galley. I told him that this is a nuclear submarine and that we don’t have any of those, and he threatened to make me walk the plank. [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bailey (Site-87)[[/span]] Refused to promote me for six months because he wasn't sure I'd be a "core character," whatever that means. But last week we were investigating ghosts at the Jackson Sloth Memorial High gym, and I mentioned how much I hated gym class as a kid, and I resultantly spent the rest of the night trapped in the utility closet by ghost jocks while my team members were forced to play an endless game of ghost basketball to the //Space Jam// theme song. I got us out of there by pointing out that we were a visiting team, since none of us ever attended JSMH, and the ghost jocks were all using retired numbers which are unacceptable in extramural play. They still gave me an atomic wedgie on the way out. Felt like complete shit about it, and the next day Bailey promotes me because I "had my own POV episode." So //I don't know.// [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Donkey Kong (Site-79)[[/span]] I went to the Director's office and Donkey Kong was there. I think the Director is Donkey Kong (?) and I'm afraid to go back and check. I do like Donkey Kong though [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] He's been paying people to leave positive reviews. Edit: okay my check just came, how do I fix the rating [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Emerson (Site-13)[[/span]] Does not dress appropriately for work. Also a few other things I think but this is my main issue. [!-- {Snapdragon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dagon (Site-403)[[/span]] Caught him after he fell down and all his body parts exploded like a lego guy. Had to spend the entire afternoon reassembling him. [!-- {Syuzhet} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Kijek (Area-21)[[/span]] She's conscientious, brilliant, and the absolute pinnacle of her field. She is also, if it's not inappropriate to say so, incredibly charming and beautiful and EDIT she's killing us she's KILLING US ALL she's FEEDING US INTO A KILLING US ALL MACHINE and she's spying on our socials but she doesn't check edits PLEASE HELP Reply, Dir. Kijek: > Thank you! 😄 [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Rivera (Site-120)[[/span]] She is very good at her job but it's kind of weird that she's almost 60 but uses reality warping powers to look 20 [!-- {Lord} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director S.K. [[/span]] Pros: He’s a visionary. His projects are universally successful, and his work will be remembered for generations. For a 98-year-old he is surprisingly sprightly. Cons: Working with him can be gruelling. He is not the most communicative of directors, so when he makes you do one hundred fucking takes it's a little hard to see how well it's going. That, plus the exhaustion from one hundred fucking takes doesn't help much. Also he goes on and fucking on about the moon landing and faking his death. You'd think he'd be a little more wise to confidentiality. Edit: okay I have no clue what this site is for. Please delete this review. [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]] O5-2 (Site-7, RAISA)[[/span]] nice guy but how do he and his bodyguard only have 5 limbs between them [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] {{WHEN I CAME IN TO FINISH SOME RESEARCH ONE MORNING, THERE HE WAS WITH HIS HEAD HALF IN THE TOILET. HIS HAIR WAS IN THE TOILET WATER. DISGUSTING.}} [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] He barges into meetings or cafeteria hours and just says his name like a Pokémon and leaves. It’s been three months of this and I have no idea what the end goal is. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Genai (Site-57)[[/span]] Bit of a weird character. Started off really fun, literally everyone wanted to talk to him and he always had something fun to say. The higher ups said they wanted to bring him in to help team exercises, but after a while he just kept on spouting these really weird comments. Not too fond of most groups it turned out. For some reason the computer whizzes kept dragging him in and out of the aic workshop, must have messed with his head a little. Anyway I haven't heard from him in ages, hope he's alright Edit: Saw Genai recently, couldn't understand a word he said, he was acting like he'd only learnt English yesterday, but at least he's less problematic. Might have to make it two stars just for that. [!-- {R4_EX} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Stroop (Site-102)[[/span]] passionate guy. races dogs. wants you to know about it. breeds them too. wants you to know about it. keeps vials of the good stuff in deep freeze. really wants to show it to you. [!-- {Dune} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site-43)[[/span]] So a great guy overall, but one day I’m going about my business and I need to do my //business.// Head into the toilets, walk into a cubicle — and Director Blank is sat down on the throne in front of me, door unlocked. Aghast, I hurriedly make apologies and slam the door shut, convinced neither of us will mention this again. Pretty awkward right, but we’ll just move on? Not so. Every time I see the man he proceeds to scream “THREAT ENTITY!” in my face and chase me out the room we’re in. I’ve applied for a transfer, but he keeps vetoing it. Reply, Dr. Blank: > Actually, I shout: > > "I'm not a Director." [!-- {Dys} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] FUCKING PATHETIC "ADMINS" THINK THEY CAN CAGE ME. I'M A WILD BULL. I'M A FUCKING FERAL WILDABEAST. THIS PISS-LAGUE IS LIKE A LITTLE PIGLET WITH HIS SHIT-TIGRATION PROGRAM. "LETS PUT THE ANOMALIES TOGETHER. WE CAN HAVE THEM WORK WITH STAFF!" ARE YOU STUPID? DID YOUR PARENTS DROP YOU OFF A BUILDING AS A BABY? NEVER MIX THOSE WEIRDOS TOGETHER. -HOGSLICE Reply, Dir. Lague: > Hello Hogslice. While I understand that Integration Program is unorthodox, its entire purpose is to test experimental containment methods. I'll also have you know that it's had an 87% success rate. Reply, Anon: > ON BREAK AGAIN, ARE WE? BROWSING RATE MY DIRECTOR FOR THE FOURTH TIME TODAY, ARE WE? WHY DON'T YOU TAKE YOUR 87 PERCENT "SUCK" CESS RATE SOMEWHERE ELSE BEFORE I INTEGRATE MY FIST (DEADLY) WITH YOUR FACE (UNATTRACTIVE, PASTY, WEAK JAW). > > -HOGSLICE [!-- {ActualCrow} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Dagon (Site-15)[[/span]] Had an absolute blast of a time working here. Coming from a rather-more prestigious Site-19, it felt strange to have a real nobody as my Director, but man did I make the most of it. Pierre never gets involved in your projects, you essentially have free reign regarding budget and scope. I know this isn't what some people look for at the Foundation but this guy is a total doormat! [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Henderson ([[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/operation-galahad \| Project Corbenic]]])[[/span]] Did you know RMD existed when you taught us how to brain-phone? Prepare your ass for three moons' worth of one star reviews from beyond the grave! [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Thine (Noospheric Site-Ψ)[[/span]] He came to me in a dream. A good one; the motherfucker ruined it. [!-- {Trintavon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director N.N (Department of Acausal Linguistics)[[/span]] ...an acausal loop within the Department's online review, suggesting that the mere process of reviewing our Department somehow bound the fabric of space-time into... [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Got weirdly into Rupaul’s Drag Race one month and kept using the phrases “slay” and “werk” in response to the most menial of things. He only stopped after he said slay to one of the Overseer’s factotums and it killed four people. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Skeates (Site-106)[[/span]] I misinterpret what "Liquidation" in "Procurement and Liquidation" means, //once,// and now there's an MTF at my office door. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reigen (Site-119)[[/span]] There was a problem at various Sites regarding amnestic abuse among lower level researchers. A majority instituted well thought out policies to combat the issue for the sake of the people and the facility. Reigen decided to go undercover //a la// Undercover Boss. He was found out in around 12 minutes because he kept asking people if they knew where he could get “the Perc 40.” [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site 43)[[/span]] Pretty great guy. When I first met him I swore he was around my age. I came to learn that he’s 74. Still kicking too! Good for him. Reply, Dr. Blank: [[div class="blockquote"]] I'm 57. And I'm not a Director. [[/div]] [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site-43)[[/span]] Stop calling my mom and telling her I don’t do my work Reply, Dr. Blank: [[div class="blockquote"]] Stop calling me a Director. I'm not a Director. [[/div]] [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] I just transferred but from my experience with him, I'd say he's a great guy. Once bought me lunch when I forgot mine at home. Randall is a nice name. Is that enough, Director? Please put down the gun. [!-- {Grigori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] Don't believe the claims that House is paying people to leave positive reviews. They're all liars, cheats, and bastards who have nothing better to do than bring down someone's success and happiness. Be better. -- Dir. R. House Reply, Anonymous: > You forgot to remove your signature, dumbass. [!-- {Trintavon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Ude (Site-738)[[/span]] On the seventh of every month, the Site receives its monthly supply of provisions. On the seventh of every month I receive a request from the director for three 1 gallon jars of Sysco mayonnaise delivered directly to his office. On the sixth of every month his secretary sends the three jars from the previous month back to the kitchen. They are always scraped clean. Once, a jar had the wrapper of a chocolate mint inside it, the type that would be on a hotel pillow. One time I sent light mayonnaise to him and he screamed at me for fifteen minutes. The director's office does not have refrigeration. [!-- {Trotsky} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Scarborough (Site-58)[[/span]] Believed me when I said “quiero comer culo” meant “good work” in Spanish. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Scarborough (Site-58)[[/span]] very good directorim happ y to workfor him [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Cimmerian (Site-88)[[/span]] Keeps walking past the VKTM research team and referring to the recordings as “the ultimate pervert” and then walking away muttering about philosophy nonsense [!-- {Dagon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bohart (Site-333)[[/span]] No one told me when the Foundation left the Lucky Star Diner. I just came to work one day and they were tearing down the entire building to make way for a minigolf course. I didn't have the personal contact information of any of my co-workers or a way to get in touch with management. I hadn't heard anything about it one way or another. I ended up questioning the last several years of my life: had I really been working for a secret non-government institution? Was the anamolous real? I became obsessed, drove my family and friends away, started breaking into buildings throughought Atlantic City, glancing over my shoulder every day expecting to see some shadowy figure stalking me; had they meant to amnesticize me and forgotten? Would they come back to finish the job? This lasted for about a year. Then I realized I was still receiving bi-monthly payments from "SCPF_333" on my banking. Turns out they just forgot to tell me. I got an email directing me to this site in my personal account this morning. I've not worked a single day for them in the last decade, and they just keep sending me money. Vincent, wherever you are, fuck you. And thank you. [!-- {Dodo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Westbrook (Site-246)[[/span]] Tried to baby trap my mom [!-- {LORD} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Geoffrey Quincy Harrison the Third (Site-322)[[/span]] I've never met the man in person, but he keeps sending me emails asking me to taste his gumballs. I've reported this to HR, but he won't stop. [!-- {Dys} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Motte (Site-209)[[/span]] He's alright. But there was this one time I went to his office to pass him some papers and caught him wrapped in a giant cocoon-like a sleeping bag. It was gone the next time I stopped by but his office is now full of moth terrariums. I think I see his face on their wings. [!-- {Afto} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director McDoctorate (Site-87)[[/span]] Impossible to understand a single goddamn word this man has put to the page unless you have a dictionary taped to your forehead [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] His SCiPNet profile picture depicted him with buck teeth, pale skin, and a bowl cut. He kept saying he was "hacked". [!-- {cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] He does realise that 616 is the Number of the Beast, right? Right? [!-- {Cyv} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director John Doe (Site-@@ @@)[[/span]] The first time I met Mr. Doe was at 3 AM in front of my house. I looked out the window and saw him floating in the distance, bathed in harsh light. Feeling like I was hallucinating, I called my roommate, but he had already disappeared. The next morning, I heard a rumor that "the dead who were wronged will return as a spirit of vengeance." Recalling the events of the previous night, my heart started pounding and I vomited from stress. I ran out of the building and when I looked behind me, I saw his vulgar eyes watching me. He knew what I did. Other than that, he's a pleasure to work with. Funny guy! [!-- {Syuzhet} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Lague (Site-322)[[/span]] I want that twink obliterated [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]O5-4 (Site-01)[[/span]] We found this guy in the middle of the ocean claiming he’d been treading water for sixteen days straight and surviving on “sea gunk.” Made him an Overseer that very day. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site-43)[[/span]] WHITE MAN SPOTTED Reply, Dr. Blank: [[div class="blockquote"]] great now spot a director [[/div]] [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Brey (Site-12)[[/span]] fantastic doctor and fantastic director. i was admitted to site-12 for six months after exposure to a lethal anomaly, and she always made sure i was taken care of. in the best shape of my life now thanks to her. unfortunately i think she’s dead now so [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bold (Area-137)[[/span]] Kicks so much ass! Babies who can't handle the workload need not apply. And another thing! Not every Director takes such a hands-on approach. Just look at his track record! Anomalous objects and entities, beware the Decommissioning Department! Babies who cry when humanoids die also need not apply. Normal people who can set aside morality and see the bigger picture are what he wants. Babies, I'm telling you, nothing to see here. Too cool for you! It's just the truth. Awful interested in joining our team? The application process is simple! Blood, sweat and tears required. Oh god you're gonna love it! Call the hiring team now to secure your position. The Ethics Committee rates him 5/5! [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director — ( )[[/span]] Edit: can someone please remove his ability to blank these responses? [!-- {Dagon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] Every week I have to log on here and say something like "come on guys, that's enough character assassination, this is the guy who got Belphegor //the Prince of Sloth// to sign the Undervegas Labour Pact" or "alright, don't overplay the supervillain angle, he only spends so much time staring out the big windows at the night skyline with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his Illuminati tie-clip while he chuckles softly because he knows you're watching and he likes to put on a show," and I'm getting sick of it. Yes, okay, at my interview he asked if I could beat him up, and when I said I didn't think so, he didn't want to hire me. Yes, //sure,// you can trace a line of causation from him shouting "Look what I can do!" and the death of Mother Teresa. And I'm not denying that his unfamiliarity with the names of the Seventy-Two Demons in the //Ars Goetia// nearly started an interdimensional incident when he was unexpectedly introduced to Count Furfur. And then Duke Vapula. And then King Purson. I had to force him to fake a stomach cramp by punching him in the gut before he met President Amy and got us all killed, and he specifically cited the punch in my next performance review as "hotter than hell, and I speak from authority." But on the other hand... yeah, I honestly can't remember where I was gonna go with the opposite side of this argument. [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director McInnis (Site-43)[[/span]] Pros: He’s the only normal person at this Site. Cons: He’s the only normal person at his Site. Reply, Dr. Blank: [[div class="blockquote"]] Super-pros: HE'S THE DIRECTOR [[/div]] [!-- {ROUNDER} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Reigen (Site-119)[[/span]] Overall a good colleague. His work on the SIMULACRUM has paved new paths of research into thaumaturgic anomalies without needing to sacrifice nearly as many junior reserchers. However, his frequent inappropriate outbursts and proclivity towards deleting all of our progress whenever a janitorial staff member looks at him funny //has// made his genius difficult to work with at times. -- Director Asheworth Reply, Director Reigen: > Reesearchrs* Reply, Director Reigen: > Creatures* Reply, Director Reigen: > Giggle on my giblets you toe-sucking gargler! Reply, Director Reigen: > Researchers* Reply, Director Ashworth: > Shit up. This is entirely unprofessional. Reply, Director Reigen: > hilarjsious. Now give my my star you fae loving fjck! Reply, Director Ashworth: > This pisze Excwstlu wha't I’m gal I g about. Get hell. Reply, Director Regina: > wehat itin the fuck did yut jsst say to me? I will gargle on your sfjckingb esophagus like an eccentricity forgetful grandma. [!-- {Dagon} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] [invalid rating] [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Allison Eckhart (Bio Site-Allison Eckhart)[[/span]] Can't believe Allison Eckhart transferred from Secure Disposal Area Allison Eckhart to get away from this Allison Eckhart and Allison Eckhart FOLLOWED ALLISON ECKHART [!-- {Harry} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director House (Site-666)[[/span]] wouldn't let me eat hot cheetos in the library. [!-- {Afto} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Blank (Site-43)[[/span]] Don't really care that you aren't the director I'd rather take the piss outta you than the guy in charge [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Caraway (Site-58)[[/span]] A wonderful person inside and outside of the workspace. My only issue is that they’re terrible at hiding when they’re pissed off. You can always tell when Faran’s having a bad day because they address everyone as “author” in a very respectful but spitting-on-your-boots tone. Great brownies also. [!-- {Plague} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Asheworth (Site-120)[[/span]] Misspelled an email, made the computer sentient. [!-- {Fishish} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Grange (Site-138)[[/span]] It is so cool to be here doing science and containment at this site. I love to work with all of my scientist and buddies and Director Grange who is my boss (in this hierarchy we all enjoy) is great at telling us what to do with all of our time. I am the kind of scientist who loves to know important secrets about foundation and I enjoy sharing them with all of my colleagues at Site 138 because we are all given clearance to share our favourite secrets about anomalies and the foundation. There aren't any issues here and we love to kill anomalies every week for our entertainment as a staff exercise, and we all get paid to do fantastic things like keep real people hostage. I love my job here and I encourage anyone to write an application for transfer to Site 138 to No. 38 Ophidia Lane, Three Portlands and TELL NO ONE AT YOUR CURRENT SITE to give them an awesome surprise when you transfer. [!-- {Greebo} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director John Doe (Department of Unreality)[[/span]] sometimes, if i think too hard about what it'd be like not to think, i bump into a barrier. I do not know who put it there. [!-- {Fishish} --] [[/div]] [[div class="rating"]] [[div class="stars"]] ⭐️ [[/div]] [[span class="ratee"]]Director Bohart (Site-333)[[/span]] Wow this place is a shitshow. I don’t respect literally any of you people. [!-- {Ori} --] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="RAISA"]] +++ NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS, ARCHIVAL, AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The RateMyDirector program has been suspended for the foreseeable future due to extraordinary abuse. [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Aftokrator, AnActualCrow, bigslothonmyface, Cyvstvi, DodoDevil, Dr Trintavon, Dysadron, EmotionalEntropy, Fishish, GremlinGroup, Grigori Karpin, HarryBlank, Its a Bad Idea, J Dune, JakdragonX, LightlessLantern, Limeyy, LORDXVNV, MrBadFellow, OriTiefling, Pedagon, PlaguePJP, pr0m37h3um, R4_EX, Ralliston, Rounderhouse, Snapdragon133, stephlynch, stormbreath, and Trotskyeet]] ===== [[<]] > Filename: rmdstroke2.png, rmd_crom.png > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rate-my-director SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Scissors.jpg > Title: OrangePinkingShears > Author: Jeffqyzt > License: Public Domain > Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:OrangePinkingShears.JPG Wikimedia Commons] [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] [[/div]]	2023-04-01T08:23:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bailey-brothers", "co-authored", "comedy", "correspondence", "director-bold", "director-lague", "director-mcinnis", "director-moose", "doctor-asheworth", "doctor-blank", "doctor-cimmerian", "doctor-dan", "doctor-light", "doctor-lillihammer", "doctor-mcdoctorate", "doctor-rivera", "doctor-thereven", "doctor-wettle", "featured", "hogslice", "researcher-rosen", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Rate My Director - SCP Foundation	404	[ "scp-7311", "operation-galahad", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "top-rated-tales", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "featured-tale-archive-ii", "fading-stars-hub", "april-fools-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/rate-my-director/rmd_crom.png" ]	1447042325	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rate-my-director
reclamation	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>He was nothing now. All that he was was burnt as fuel.</p> </div> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;"><img alt="Tufto" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3337265&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332308" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3337265)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tufto" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3337265); return false;">Tufto</a></span>. This is their 2022 Art Exchange gift for <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lightlesslantern" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7540369); return false;"><img alt="LightlessLantern" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7540369&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332308" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7540369)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lightlesslantern" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7540369); return false;">LightlessLantern</a></span>. More of their work can be found <a href="/tufto-personnel-file">here</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>It is winter, and Farhad Esfandiari is about to die.</p> <p>The container is rapidly filling up with water. He scrambles to the far end, cursing, feeling the weight of the metal as it starts to tip forward. The pocket of air is closing around him. This time, there is no way out.</p> <p>Faint drips squeeze their way through the corners. He starts to shout, not knowing why, because nobody will hear. The shipping container has been dropped out of the side of the ship and is bleeding from the outside in. Does he think someone will hear? He's not sure. There isn't much time to think.</p> <p>Maybe it's instinct. Who wouldn't shout? It won't help, but nothing will, so he falls back on that old habit, that childish habit. Like a familiar glove.</p> <p>Farhad bangs on the roof of the container. Nothing. He starts to yell, more incessantly. He scrawls his feet up the side. A creaking sound is heard. The bottom sinks more quickly. He can almost taste the frost.</p> <hr/> <p>It is spring. Farhad, a child, runs up to the door of the house. His father is inside, talking with the men from Tehran.</p> <p>It's a green day, on the northern slopes of the Alborz. To Farhad, Iran, the Iran he knows, is the green grasses of Mazandaran, which always look too lush to be real. The idea of Iran as anything other than riverland, foliage and distant peaks is anathema to him. The Dasht-e Kavir is a distant idea. Tehran's smog is a half-remembered visit from years ago.</p> <p>Farhad is an aeroplane. He runs around from door to tree, arms outstretched, blowing a constant hum with his mouth. Here the explosives fall! Here he comes running, plotting out landings and runways and bombs falling fast. The heroes win, the bunker is destroyed!</p> <p>Inside, his father twists the signet ring on his finger, sighing. The men in front of him are getting more insistent. He can hear his son's voice outside, ringing, bright. He leans forward and signs the papers.</p> <hr/> <p>It is summer. Farhad scratches at his neck and sighs. Opposite him, Yasmin winces slightly, angrily. Farhad can't seem to do anything but sigh now.</p> <p>Everyone but the two of them has gone home. The sun sets, orange pastels blending into the circling clouds. It's too late for work, and besides, the air conditioning has broken. But they stay in the office regardless, procrastinating, finding new tasks to catch up on.</p> <p>Farhad continues to type. The hum of machinery is all around. Fluorescent lights bear down overhead.</p> <p>"You can just go." Yasmin's voice is clipped, hurt. Farhad doesn't understand why but doesn't have the energy to worry about it. It's just Yasmin, who has slipped into his life like a familiar ache, something so inextricable that it's hardly noticeable.</p> <p>"There's too much to do." It's a lie, but not because he wants to avoid a conversation. He's fine with that kind of conversation, full of hurt and recrimination. What he's not fine with is his work.</p> <p>The storage lockers beneath the Office for the Reclamation of Islamic Artifacts are full of the reclaimed and unprocessed. Each item must be properly researched, analysed, studied. In this regard, they are like the Foundation, but with a shoestring budget and a more focused, worn-out workforce.</p> <p>Each item, in those black corridors, sitting in cardboard boxes or tarnished metal, sits glowing or undulating in its own strange light. Where possible, they are truly reclaimed; returned to their countries and towns of origin, to ancient shrines or long-buried tombs. This is the real purpose of the job, this slow healing. The world cannot be made whole again, before the carracks came onto the Hormuz skyline, but some sense of continuity can be preserved. In scattered places and lonely pasts, what was can become what is.</p> <p>But the other objects are the ones that can be weaponised. And they have to be weaponised. All day long, dragging themselves from foxholes and slums, mountain hideouts and urban cells, the tattered band of the ORIA sets up its defences and its traps.</p> <p>Great columns haunted by the elder djinn are set up on snow-white peaks. There is no money for surveillance, so this will have to do. A section director stares into the Cup of Jamshid to prevent it from falling into the Foundation's hands, altering the convoy's route, determining the safest path from Tehran to Shiraz.</p> <p>In Europe, an Indonesian woman is stopped by the police. She prays they do not search her; such an unexpected mercy is her only defence against the Foundation being alerted to the Ilkhanid lustre tile she has stolen. She has become, over many years, extraordinarily sensitive to the minutiae of these situations; of the way the blonde German looks at her, contempt and curiosity, of the official and careful words he speaks. She gives sullen but precise responses. She knows she has to.</p> <p>In New Orleans, a man skips stones over the water. He is waiting. He has been waiting for many years. There is a page from a copy of the Shahname composed in Delhi in the late 16th century. It was commissioned for a Mughal noble to celebrate the Islamic millenium. The pages move in their own time, and the experience of reading it is to feel the illustrations swimming, spinning, transforming matter to matter. And a collector ripped it to shreds to sell it in pieces. So this man waits, until the old-fashioned radio in his pocket will whir into reality, to tell him which house in the city contains the next fragment, the next moment in his singular life.</p> <p>All along the line, the ORIA drags itself up. Not with glamour, or smoothness, but with sudden fits and starts. They do their work efficiently, quietly, desperately, always feeling the black and fated contours of their tightrope. The metropole kicks down; the colony bites back.</p> <p>It is high summer, and there is no retreat for them. There's only the life buzzing all around, contagious, filling the air with toxins. And Farhad does not want to enter the office's bowels, to find that locker in the lower floors, to see his own bitter fruits.</p> <hr/> <p>It is autumn, and Farhad watches as Yasmin leaves the house.</p> <p>She walks down the steps, adjusting her headscarf. Leaves blow past the streetlight; it is dawn, and the first red light scores the street in indigo and russet browns. There's a soft squelch as Yasmin's boots trudge through the detritus.</p> <p>He is holding open the curtain. It has been nine months since he finally plucked up the courage to go downstairs and visit the locker, and he has had to watch Yasmin become like the others, but only in his presence. Little of her youthful fire has survived his experience. Now she nurses him, day by day, quietly and efficiently checking on his moods and his temperament.</p> <p>Sometimes he lashes out, calling her names, trying to find some word to cut her with. She knows it is not real. She quietly corrects him, reproaches him, and he apologises. He always apologises. The weary look when she raises her head, her love for him a kind of binding of its own…</p> <p>The stress, that's the word. The pressure and the tension, the tautness. He didn't understand it before, but he does now. Maybe everyone at the ORIA does, when they look into the locker.</p> <p>Yasmin is beyond his eyes' reach. He didn't quite see when she turned the corner. He gets up from the chair and heads towards the bathroom with his slow and heavy gait. He wants it to be spring again. The flowers are so lovely in the spring.</p> <hr/> <p>It is winter, and Farhad doesn't know what happened last night at all.</p> <p>His uncle has been clandestinely brewing alcohol in his basement. Lots of people do it, but his uncle's wide grin and perpetual bustle make the entire thing seem more slapdash, more unsafe. Heaven knows what would happen if he was caught.</p> <p>But Farhad is just 18 here, newly started at university. He is assiduous by day, writing notes and brushing his clothes carefully. He is neat and friendly, an extroverted figure about the campus. But as people get to know him more and more, over a cup of tea or on a walk by the river, they find that he hides an inner bitterness. He bundles his scarf up around his ears, and watches the city crumble on by.</p> <p>This city, he says, is hidden in a veil. It's not a veil you can see, just one that others can; that the outsiders, the <em>farangi</em>, can. Each city of the world is connected by wires, electric and humming, full of nervous energy - but not Tehran. Tehran is bypassed. The city of shahs and smog is a name few can call to mind. It cannot be plotted on the Westerners' mental maps.</p> <p>His friends don't understand the bitterness this provokes in him. It's a special, careful kind of bitterness. Farhad is not a nationalist; he doesn't believe in cheaply coloured storybooks. And he's not an loyalist either, recognising the hollow scratching eyes you need to still believe in the Islamic Republic. No; he's someone standing apart from the crowd, descending into a mute and brooding cynicism, the only way he knows to carve his own tunnel from the confusion. Maybe if his standards are beyond any earthly height, he might one day find some measure of truth.</p> <p>So he gets drunk on his uncle's foul concoction, and cannot remember the last night on the next morning. And that scares him - really scares him. To lack a memory is to not feel its lack; one moment you were somewhere, the next you were here. Farhad sees his self as the accumulation of experience; so isn't this missing part of his life the loss of a part of himself?</p> <p>But at the same time, it is intoxicating. Now, for a second, he understands the point of jihad. The mujahideen who can annihilate himself in the struggle. In his wiped and scrubbed memory, he senses a kind of relief; there is no need for truth if there is no sense of self. There's only whatever action took place last night, devoid of the meaning that memory gives it. It does not matter what virtues or crimes he committed; only the knowledge that they took place. Matter that is both potential and realised; the end to all struggle.</p> <p>He stares blearily at his ceiling, and pushes the thoughts out of his head. His shirt smells and he reeks of drink. He needs to take a shower, and get himself ready for the day ahead.</p> <hr/> <p>It is spring. Farhad, an old man, limps away from the building.</p> <p>He's worked there for fifty years. First he was an agent, then a supervisor, then a regional director. Now he is the head, the chief. The building is much the same as it was; the regime is different, but the flow of capital remains, merely intensified.</p> <p>His boots crumple the flowers beneath him. He has transformed this place. The ORIA has beaten the Foundation, the GOC, all of them. Agents file through offices, making jokes, striding with confidence and proud of their lofty heights. Protest movements in the West are becoming revolutions. Factories across Africa and Asia close down, mines are left abandoned. The entire system is being wracked with the pains he always dreamt of. Freedom is, now, a real possibility.</p> <p>All the same… he misses it. He misses the strung-out nights that made this possible. He misses the deadened faces of his colleagues, the dedication that defied hope. He misses being invisible in the crowd instead of invisible on the mountaintop.</p> <p>The moon is round and full. A car alarm goes off in the distance. He reaches his car, and climbs inside. His daughter is always telling him not to drive at night, that his eyesight isn't good any more. She fusses, of course, because she loves him. But this time, he can't help himself.</p> <p>The back roads lead towards the mountains. He drives for hours, until all that's left of Tehran is a glinting set of lights in the distance. He stops, gets out, and heads to the grass on the side of the road, remembering this place, remembering the summer…</p> <hr/> <p>It is, of course, summer. Farhad, exhausted from running and playing, is lying on the side of a hillock. His mother is reading a book, some distance away. There are flowers on her dress. She has removed her headscarf, looking around furtively.</p> <p>Farhad stares at the sky, admiring the clouds. The same clouds seen all across the Alborz, across Mazandaran probably. They're holidaying in Tehran, and came up to the mountainside to see the country, get some fresh air, his mother said. He stretches out his arms in the utter contentment of a child, waiting to see what fresh impulse will toss him to and fro.</p> <p>If the clouds can be seen across all the north, then the sky can be seen across the whole world. Oh, in some places it's dark, it's night where here it's day, but it's all still the same. They can just see behind the veil, behind the veil of blue.</p> <p>Or - what if the blue sky is what's real, and the stars are just a cover over them? What if they're the veil? And he sees, in his mind's eye, himself floating through an infinite vacuum, of planets and asteroids and aliens, only to pierce into something beyond that. Something not empty but all-consuming, vast, terrible…</p> <hr/> <p>It is autumn. Yasmin has gone.</p> <p>He doesn't know when it happened. She was his last sprig of individuality, even if he hadn't realised it. As he drowned further and further into himself, Yasmin provoked, dragged, hauled him back up. She'd left the ORIA some time back, but hadn't left him.</p> <p>But Yasmin had left. Yasmin had to leave. She couldn't keep orbiting him, she said, or she'd go mad the way he'd gone mad. So she packed her things, and didn't look back, and sauntered through the door and out of his world. None of her fire remained, but she was rigid, straight-backed, like a lightning-struck tree. Her skin and clothes seemed polished white from the inside out.</p> <p>And he walks around his house, and feels so terribly afraid. He remembers his hangover from his uncle's pocket brewery. He remembers playing as an aeroplane while his father signed away his childhood home. He remembers many things and feels as though he is falling into a pit, grasping for a tightrope that does not come.</p> <p>He remembers, above all, the contents of the locker.</p> <hr/> <p>It is winter. He is crawling across the Sahara. The GOC took everything, scorched it alive, gas masks on their face and great cylinders on their backs. The shrine is dead ash, but he has its fragment in his jacket. He clings to it for warmth, feeling the rod of pure fire warm him back. There are miles to go, but it must be done. The object must be reclaimed.</p> <p>It is spring. He is in the dead place, the coldest cavern, climbing into a hole where hundreds have become stuck and died, pinned between rocks. If he makes a single wrong step, he is dead, the lingering death of madness, in the dark and the cold. Nobody knows he is here. But he hears the songs of sirens beneath him, and takes out the tape recorder, to claw out of this mine whatever melodies still remain within.</p> <p>It is summer. He is not burnt or submerged but frozen, camped out in a miserable tent under a gargantuan blizzard. His thoughts are no longer real here. The frost preserves them whole but bloodless, smooth and ice-shined. The sky is blue. The glacier is blue. And beneath him, at last, he sees the ifrit's face, cold and dead, come closer to the surface. She is perfectly preserved; a true mummy. The directors will be happy she is dead.</p> <p>It is autumn. The world burns bright. It snarls, chasing him through the woodlands, pursues him between the trees. He is running as fast as he is able, not daring to turn and see the thing that scratches his back. There are no words. There is just the stretching, the necessity, the sightline at the edge of the trees, the prey instinct…</p> <p>It is winter, and Farhad Esfandiari belongs to the ORIA. He belongs to it utterly and without remorse. There is only injustice, the imbalance of capital, and the remedy. He belongs to it because he was a charcoal wreck of a man, and as part of it, is that no more.</p> <hr/> <p>It is winter, and Farhad opens the window to the locker's interior.</p> <p>The locker's interior is an object stolen from the Foundation, some thirty years before. It refracts one's personal timeline to show a moment at will, from all different angles. Farhad is looking at a shipping container sinking, a bubble of air evaporating, his own form from three years ago struggling and shouting.</p> <p>He cannot understand. He remembers the cold water lapping at his ankles and the creaking beyond desperation, beyond what could be borne. And then he remembers the rivets and joints above him being bent apart, and the water rushing in…</p> <p>But what had teased the walls apart was a pair of hands, which lifted him to the surface, dragged him back to shore. It had been a hazy heat-mist, somewhere in the rainforest. Spluttering and coughing, he had looked around wildly, only to see a figure disappear into the trees. He had no idea who that person was.</p> <p>But here, seeing the moment from all angles at once - a sublime paradox - he could see clearly. It had no fixed body. It had no mouth. It just had tired, tired eyes.</p> <p>The ORIA had reclaimed him. But he was not going to be sent home. He was one of the others. He was a thing to be weaponised, and on the faded heights, launched from the spirit-cannon into the enemy's maw.</p> <p>He was nothing now. All that he was was burnt as fuel. There was not enough of him left to remember the night before, and all was blank before his mind - except the knowledge that he had done as was required. That what needed to be done was done, even if he never knew it.</p> <hr/> <p>It is spring. Farhad looks up at the moon, leaning on his cane, watching the lights of Tehran below. It won't be so long, now.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/reclamation">Reclamation</a>" by Tufto, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/reclamation">https://scpwiki.com/reclamation</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= He was nothing now. All that he was was burnt as fuel. ]] ===== [[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:pride-highlighter">component:pride-highlighter</a> inc-lgbt= --]]] [[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] Author: [[user Tufto]]. This is their 2022 Art Exchange gift for [[user LightlessLantern]]. More of their work can be found [[[tufto-personnel-file\|here]]]. [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] It is winter, and Farhad Esfandiari is about to die. The container is rapidly filling up with water. He scrambles to the far end, cursing, feeling the weight of the metal as it starts to tip forward. The pocket of air is closing around him. This time, there is no way out. Faint drips squeeze their way through the corners. He starts to shout, not knowing why, because nobody will hear. The shipping container has been dropped out of the side of the ship and is bleeding from the outside in. Does he think someone will hear? He's not sure. There isn't much time to think. Maybe it's instinct. Who wouldn't shout? It won't help, but nothing will, so he falls back on that old habit, that childish habit. Like a familiar glove. Farhad bangs on the roof of the container. Nothing. He starts to yell, more incessantly. He scrawls his feet up the side. A creaking sound is heard. The bottom sinks more quickly. He can almost taste the frost. ----- It is spring. Farhad, a child, runs up to the door of the house. His father is inside, talking with the men from Tehran. It's a green day, on the northern slopes of the Alborz. To Farhad, Iran, the Iran he knows, is the green grasses of Mazandaran, which always look too lush to be real. The idea of Iran as anything other than riverland, foliage and distant peaks is anathema to him. The Dasht-e Kavir is a distant idea. Tehran's smog is a half-remembered visit from years ago. Farhad is an aeroplane. He runs around from door to tree, arms outstretched, blowing a constant hum with his mouth. Here the explosives fall! Here he comes running, plotting out landings and runways and bombs falling fast. The heroes win, the bunker is destroyed! Inside, his father twists the signet ring on his finger, sighing. The men in front of him are getting more insistent. He can hear his son's voice outside, ringing, bright. He leans forward and signs the papers. ----- It is summer. Farhad scratches at his neck and sighs. Opposite him, Yasmin winces slightly, angrily. Farhad can't seem to do anything but sigh now. Everyone but the two of them has gone home. The sun sets, orange pastels blending into the circling clouds. It's too late for work, and besides, the air conditioning has broken. But they stay in the office regardless, procrastinating, finding new tasks to catch up on. Farhad continues to type. The hum of machinery is all around. Fluorescent lights bear down overhead. "You can just go." Yasmin's voice is clipped, hurt. Farhad doesn't understand why but doesn't have the energy to worry about it. It's just Yasmin, who has slipped into his life like a familiar ache, something so inextricable that it's hardly noticeable. "There's too much to do." It's a lie, but not because he wants to avoid a conversation. He's fine with that kind of conversation, full of hurt and recrimination. What he's not fine with is his work. The storage lockers beneath the Office for the Reclamation of Islamic Artifacts are full of the reclaimed and unprocessed. Each item must be properly researched, analysed, studied. In this regard, they are like the Foundation, but with a shoestring budget and a more focused, worn-out workforce. Each item, in those black corridors, sitting in cardboard boxes or tarnished metal, sits glowing or undulating in its own strange light. Where possible, they are truly reclaimed; returned to their countries and towns of origin, to ancient shrines or long-buried tombs. This is the real purpose of the job, this slow healing. The world cannot be made whole again, before the carracks came onto the Hormuz skyline, but some sense of continuity can be preserved. In scattered places and lonely pasts, what was can become what is. But the other objects are the ones that can be weaponised. And they have to be weaponised. All day long, dragging themselves from foxholes and slums, mountain hideouts and urban cells, the tattered band of the ORIA sets up its defences and its traps. Great columns haunted by the elder djinn are set up on snow-white peaks. There is no money for surveillance, so this will have to do. A section director stares into the Cup of Jamshid to prevent it from falling into the Foundation's hands, altering the convoy's route, determining the safest path from Tehran to Shiraz. In Europe, an Indonesian woman is stopped by the police. She prays they do not search her; such an unexpected mercy is her only defence against the Foundation being alerted to the Ilkhanid lustre tile she has stolen. She has become, over many years, extraordinarily sensitive to the minutiae of these situations; of the way the blonde German looks at her, contempt and curiosity, of the official and careful words he speaks. She gives sullen but precise responses. She knows she has to. In New Orleans, a man skips stones over the water. He is waiting. He has been waiting for many years. There is a page from a copy of the Shahname composed in Delhi in the late 16th century. It was commissioned for a Mughal noble to celebrate the Islamic millenium. The pages move in their own time, and the experience of reading it is to feel the illustrations swimming, spinning, transforming matter to matter. And a collector ripped it to shreds to sell it in pieces. So this man waits, until the old-fashioned radio in his pocket will whir into reality, to tell him which house in the city contains the next fragment, the next moment in his singular life. All along the line, the ORIA drags itself up. Not with glamour, or smoothness, but with sudden fits and starts. They do their work efficiently, quietly, desperately, always feeling the black and fated contours of their tightrope. The metropole kicks down; the colony bites back. It is high summer, and there is no retreat for them. There's only the life buzzing all around, contagious, filling the air with toxins. And Farhad does not want to enter the office's bowels, to find that locker in the lower floors, to see his own bitter fruits. ----- It is autumn, and Farhad watches as Yasmin leaves the house. She walks down the steps, adjusting her headscarf. Leaves blow past the streetlight; it is dawn, and the first red light scores the street in indigo and russet browns. There's a soft squelch as Yasmin's boots trudge through the detritus. He is holding open the curtain. It has been nine months since he finally plucked up the courage to go downstairs and visit the locker, and he has had to watch Yasmin become like the others, but only in his presence. Little of her youthful fire has survived his experience. Now she nurses him, day by day, quietly and efficiently checking on his moods and his temperament. Sometimes he lashes out, calling her names, trying to find some word to cut her with. She knows it is not real. She quietly corrects him, reproaches him, and he apologises. He always apologises. The weary look when she raises her head, her love for him a kind of binding of its own... The stress, that's the word. The pressure and the tension, the tautness. He didn't understand it before, but he does now. Maybe everyone at the ORIA does, when they look into the locker. Yasmin is beyond his eyes' reach. He didn't quite see when she turned the corner. He gets up from the chair and heads towards the bathroom with his slow and heavy gait. He wants it to be spring again. The flowers are so lovely in the spring. ----- It is winter, and Farhad doesn't know what happened last night at all. His uncle has been clandestinely brewing alcohol in his basement. Lots of people do it, but his uncle's wide grin and perpetual bustle make the entire thing seem more slapdash, more unsafe. Heaven knows what would happen if he was caught. But Farhad is just 18 here, newly started at university. He is assiduous by day, writing notes and brushing his clothes carefully. He is neat and friendly, an extroverted figure about the campus. But as people get to know him more and more, over a cup of tea or on a walk by the river, they find that he hides an inner bitterness. He bundles his scarf up around his ears, and watches the city crumble on by. This city, he says, is hidden in a veil. It's not a veil you can see, just one that others can; that the outsiders, the //farangi//, can. Each city of the world is connected by wires, electric and humming, full of nervous energy - but not Tehran. Tehran is bypassed. The city of shahs and smog is a name few can call to mind. It cannot be plotted on the Westerners' mental maps. His friends don't understand the bitterness this provokes in him. It's a special, careful kind of bitterness. Farhad is not a nationalist; he doesn't believe in cheaply coloured storybooks. And he's not an loyalist either, recognising the hollow scratching eyes you need to still believe in the Islamic Republic. No; he's someone standing apart from the crowd, descending into a mute and brooding cynicism, the only way he knows to carve his own tunnel from the confusion. Maybe if his standards are beyond any earthly height, he might one day find some measure of truth. So he gets drunk on his uncle's foul concoction, and cannot remember the last night on the next morning. And that scares him - really scares him. To lack a memory is to not feel its lack; one moment you were somewhere, the next you were here. Farhad sees his self as the accumulation of experience; so isn't this missing part of his life the loss of a part of himself? But at the same time, it is intoxicating. Now, for a second, he understands the point of jihad. The mujahideen who can annihilate himself in the struggle. In his wiped and scrubbed memory, he senses a kind of relief; there is no need for truth if there is no sense of self. There's only whatever action took place last night, devoid of the meaning that memory gives it. It does not matter what virtues or crimes he committed; only the knowledge that they took place. Matter that is both potential and realised; the end to all struggle. He stares blearily at his ceiling, and pushes the thoughts out of his head. His shirt smells and he reeks of drink. He needs to take a shower, and get himself ready for the day ahead. ----- It is spring. Farhad, an old man, limps away from the building. He's worked there for fifty years. First he was an agent, then a supervisor, then a regional director. Now he is the head, the chief. The building is much the same as it was; the regime is different, but the flow of capital remains, merely intensified. His boots crumple the flowers beneath him. He has transformed this place. The ORIA has beaten the Foundation, the GOC, all of them. Agents file through offices, making jokes, striding with confidence and proud of their lofty heights. Protest movements in the West are becoming revolutions. Factories across Africa and Asia close down, mines are left abandoned. The entire system is being wracked with the pains he always dreamt of. Freedom is, now, a real possibility. All the same... he misses it. He misses the strung-out nights that made this possible. He misses the deadened faces of his colleagues, the dedication that defied hope. He misses being invisible in the crowd instead of invisible on the mountaintop. The moon is round and full. A car alarm goes off in the distance. He reaches his car, and climbs inside. His daughter is always telling him not to drive at night, that his eyesight isn't good any more. She fusses, of course, because she loves him. But this time, he can't help himself. The back roads lead towards the mountains. He drives for hours, until all that's left of Tehran is a glinting set of lights in the distance. He stops, gets out, and heads to the grass on the side of the road, remembering this place, remembering the summer... ----- It is, of course, summer. Farhad, exhausted from running and playing, is lying on the side of a hillock. His mother is reading a book, some distance away. There are flowers on her dress. She has removed her headscarf, looking around furtively. Farhad stares at the sky, admiring the clouds. The same clouds seen all across the Alborz, across Mazandaran probably. They're holidaying in Tehran, and came up to the mountainside to see the country, get some fresh air, his mother said. He stretches out his arms in the utter contentment of a child, waiting to see what fresh impulse will toss him to and fro. If the clouds can be seen across all the north, then the sky can be seen across the whole world. Oh, in some places it's dark, it's night where here it's day, but it's all still the same. They can just see behind the veil, behind the veil of blue. Or - what if the blue sky is what's real, and the stars are just a cover over them? What if they're the veil? And he sees, in his mind's eye, himself floating through an infinite vacuum, of planets and asteroids and aliens, only to pierce into something beyond that. Something not empty but all-consuming, vast, terrible... ----- It is autumn. Yasmin has gone. He doesn't know when it happened. She was his last sprig of individuality, even if he hadn't realised it. As he drowned further and further into himself, Yasmin provoked, dragged, hauled him back up. She'd left the ORIA some time back, but hadn't left him. But Yasmin had left. Yasmin had to leave. She couldn't keep orbiting him, she said, or she'd go mad the way he'd gone mad. So she packed her things, and didn't look back, and sauntered through the door and out of his world. None of her fire remained, but she was rigid, straight-backed, like a lightning-struck tree. Her skin and clothes seemed polished white from the inside out. And he walks around his house, and feels so terribly afraid. He remembers his hangover from his uncle's pocket brewery. He remembers playing as an aeroplane while his father signed away his childhood home. He remembers many things and feels as though he is falling into a pit, grasping for a tightrope that does not come. He remembers, above all, the contents of the locker. ----- It is winter. He is crawling across the Sahara. The GOC took everything, scorched it alive, gas masks on their face and great cylinders on their backs. The shrine is dead ash, but he has its fragment in his jacket. He clings to it for warmth, feeling the rod of pure fire warm him back. There are miles to go, but it must be done. The object must be reclaimed. It is spring. He is in the dead place, the coldest cavern, climbing into a hole where hundreds have become stuck and died, pinned between rocks. If he makes a single wrong step, he is dead, the lingering death of madness, in the dark and the cold. Nobody knows he is here. But he hears the songs of sirens beneath him, and takes out the tape recorder, to claw out of this mine whatever melodies still remain within. It is summer. He is not burnt or submerged but frozen, camped out in a miserable tent under a gargantuan blizzard. His thoughts are no longer real here. The frost preserves them whole but bloodless, smooth and ice-shined. The sky is blue. The glacier is blue. And beneath him, at last, he sees the ifrit's face, cold and dead, come closer to the surface. She is perfectly preserved; a true mummy. The directors will be happy she is dead. It is autumn. The world burns bright. It snarls, chasing him through the woodlands, pursues him between the trees. He is running as fast as he is able, not daring to turn and see the thing that scratches his back. There are no words. There is just the stretching, the necessity, the sightline at the edge of the trees, the prey instinct... It is winter, and Farhad Esfandiari belongs to the ORIA. He belongs to it utterly and without remorse. There is only injustice, the imbalance of capital, and the remedy. He belongs to it because he was a charcoal wreck of a man, and as part of it, is that no more. ----- It is winter, and Farhad opens the window to the locker's interior. The locker's interior is an object stolen from the Foundation, some thirty years before. It refracts one's personal timeline to show a moment at will, from all different angles. Farhad is looking at a shipping container sinking, a bubble of air evaporating, his own form from three years ago struggling and shouting. He cannot understand. He remembers the cold water lapping at his ankles and the creaking beyond desperation, beyond what could be borne. And then he remembers the rivets and joints above him being bent apart, and the water rushing in... But what had teased the walls apart was a pair of hands, which lifted him to the surface, dragged him back to shore. It had been a hazy heat-mist, somewhere in the rainforest. Spluttering and coughing, he had looked around wildly, only to see a figure disappear into the trees. He had no idea who that person was. But here, seeing the moment from all angles at once - a sublime paradox - he could see clearly. It had no fixed body. It had no mouth. It just had tired, tired eyes. The ORIA had reclaimed him. But he was not going to be sent home. He was one of the others. He was a thing to be weaponised, and on the faded heights, launched from the spirit-cannon into the enemy's maw. He was nothing now. All that he was was burnt as fuel. There was not enough of him left to remember the night before, and all was blank before his mind - except the knowledge that he had done as was required. That what needed to be done was done, even if he never knew it. ----- It is spring. Farhad looks up at the moon, leaning on his cane, watching the lights of Tehran below. It won't be so long, now. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-02T16:36:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "oria", "tale" ]	Reclamation - SCP Foundation	25	[ "tufto-personnel-file", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "oria-hub", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1445375587	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/reclamation
red-army-blues	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><em>Leningrad, Russia, 1968</em></p> <p>Tchaikovsky lay alone in bed. The sheets around him were a mess. He remained still, looking up at the ceiling fan. He watched it spin, faster and faster, like a helicopter's rotorblades. He stank. His beard desperately needed shaving. It seemed to take every ounce of strength in his body just to sit up. When he finally did, he approached the window, glancing through into the streets below.</p> <p>He half-expected to find himself back in Huế. He almost swore he could hear the sounds of shelling and gunfire. But in front of him lay the cold streets of Leningrad. It was a strange feeling, like he needed to be somewhere else. The mundane life of a city street felt surreal in his mind. He lit up a cigarette, and sat down on the bed. A half-empty bottle of vodka was sitting on the table next to him. He grabbed the bottle and took a heavy swig.</p> <p>How much time had passed? He could not remember. He kept seeing Veronin, engulfed in flaming napalm, dying painfully. He could recall Kestrov's face as he was forced to kill the man he looked up to. Veronin was gone, nothing could change that now. And yet that one thought persisted:</p> <p><em>Why did it have to be him? Why am I alive?</em></p> <p>Veronin was gone. Last he heard, Kestrov was on leave. After everything they had been through, it seemed a wonder he was still alive. But that left only him and Moloknya.</p> <p>It seemed this was the end of Red Storm. GRU-P was probably just keeping him here until they figured out what they wanted to do with him.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky took another swig of the Vodka when he heard someone knocking at the door. The noise seemed deafening in his ears. He just fell back onto the bed. Right now he did not feel like he could be bothered with anyone.</p> <p>But the knocking persisted. Until finally he heard the door break open.</p> <p>"UUUUgggghhh… leave me alone."</p> <p>"Look at yourself," a woman's voice said. He internally cursed as he realized who was approaching him.</p> <p>Of course it was Moloknya. She wasted no time entering and walking straight toward Tchaikovsky's hungover and unkempt form.</p> <p>"Get up."</p> <p>Tchaikovsky didn't move. Next thing he knew, her hands were grabbing him and dragging him off the bed. With all her might, Moloknya pulled Tchaikovsky toward the bathroom, shoving him inside and into the shower.</p> <p>Then she turned it on. Tchaikovsky was stunned as he felt water running down his body. Before he even processed what was happening, the water was off and he was suddenly holding a set of dry clothes.</p> <p>"Get changed, we're leaving."</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"You've spent enough time in here feeling sorry for yourself. I'm getting you out whether you like it or not. Put them on."</p> <p>Moloknya stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door. Though he was very confused, he slowly began to put on the new clothes.</p> <p>As he stepped out, Moloknya was waiting patiently at the door.</p> <p>"Come on," she said.</p> <p>"Where are we going?"</p> <p>"Outside," she replied.</p> <hr/> <p>A taxi was already parked on the side of the road, which Moloknya quickly approached. She knocked on the window, which was quickly lowered, and handed a few rubles to the driver. She then motioned for Tchaikovsky to enter.</p> <p>He took a seat in the cab, still visibly confused by what was happening.</p> <p>"You've been sitting in that room for a week," Moloknya said. "I know this feels strange but it's for your own good."</p> <p>The taxi stopped in front of a bar. Moloknya handed another wad of rubles to the driver before she stepped out.</p> <p>"Come on," she said.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky stepped out of the taxi and followed Moloknya inside.</p> <p>The bar was a lively place. A lot of men in uniform were enjoying themselves. They took a seat at the counter.</p> <p>"Anya!" The Bartender said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"</p> <p>"Two vodkas," Moloknya replied. "The good stuff. And some borscht."</p> <p>The bartender quickly poured two glasses before going to pass her order on.</p> <p>"I guess you've been here before?" Tchaikovsky asked.</p> <p>"My mother liked to bring me here," Moloknya replied. "Apparently it was even better before the siege."</p> <p>"How is your mother doing?"</p> <p>"She's good," Moloknya replied.</p> <p>"You know, you've told me about your mother but you've never mentioned your father."</p> <p>"There's not much to tell. He was a soldier. I was told he died fighting in the war."</p> <p>"I'm sorry to hear that."</p> <p>A server arrived with a bowl of borscht, which Moloknya quickly slid in front of Tchaikovsky.</p> <p>"Eat,"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"You need to eat something,"</p> <p>Tchaikovsky slowly picked up his spoon and began dipping it into the borscht, though he remained quiet.</p> <p>"Mother was never quite the same after the siege. She still has nightmares about it."</p> <p>Two glasses were placed in front of them. A bottle of vodka was poured into each before being placed next to them.</p> <p>"Enjoy," said the Bartender.</p> <p>Moloknya quickly gulped a quarter of her glass.</p> <p>"This is the real thing," she said. "If you're going to drink, at least drink something better than the military rations."</p> <p>Tchaikovsky smiled. He slowly took a sip of his drink.</p> <p>"To be honest," Tchaikovsky murmered. "I still see Veronin… no… worse. I see Kestrov. I see his face as he shot the man we all looked up to. All I can see is… pain. He didn't deserve that."</p> <p>"None of us did," Moloknya replied.</p> <p>"Why'd it have to be him? Why not me?"</p> <p>"You know, my Mother used to wonder the same thing. You heard anything about Kestrov?"</p> <p>"No," Tchaikovsky said. "They said he was on leave. I heard something about a physical exam."</p> <p>"He went through a lot in Hue," Moloknya said. "More than most people could take in his position. The fact that he came out of that alive is proof of his strength."</p> <p>Tchaikovsky took a spoonful of borscht.</p> <p>"Oh wow, this is actually pretty good."</p> <p>"You know what?" Moloknya said. "Let's have some fun."</p> <p>Tchaikovsky was about to stammer out a "what?" Before Moloknya had climbed onto her stool and was standing on the counter. The strange moment had started to get attention from the other patrons.</p> <p>"I'll sleep with anyone," Moloknya announced. "If they can outdrink me!"</p> <p>Even the bartender froze at the scene.</p> <p>"Ten shots of the strongest vodka this establishment can offer. If I fall, I'm yours. Anyone up for the challenge?"</p> <p>A large man with a thick beard stepped forward, a large mug already in his hand. "I'll take you!" He yelled out.</p> <p>Moloknya eagerly jumped off the counter and made her way to a table. The enthusiastic patrons began to surround them.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky looked at the bartender, remembering how he seemed to know Moloknya.</p> <p>"Is she always like this?"</p> <p>"Oh trust me," the bartender said. "This is going to be good."</p> <p>The bartender reached under the counter and grabbed a bottle. He quickly brought it over to the table where Moloknya was sitting across from her challenger.</p> <p>Ten glasses were laid out in front of each of them. The bartender poured the vodka into each one.</p> <p>"The rules are simple," the Bartender said as he put the cap onto his bottle. "You will take turns drinking one shot. When you finish one, you put your glass down. Your opponent will then take his or her shot. If either one falls, they lose."</p> <p>The challenger smiled.</p> <p>Moloknya reached for her first glass. She took one large gulp and downed the shot, before slamming the glass back onto the table.</p> <p>The challenger laughed. "That's nothing," he said. He quickly took a swig of his glass, flipped it over, and slammed it with a dramatic flare.</p> <p>The crowd erupted into cheering.</p> <p>Moloknya reached for her second glass. She drank this one a bit more slowly, allowing everyone to watch as the clear liquid poured into her mouth.</p> <p>Another glass on the table.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky was starting to wonder what exactly was happening.</p> <p>The Challenger gulped his second glass and slammed it onto the table. A smug grin was barely visible in his bushy beard.</p> <p>Moloknya reached for her third glass. She lifted it up slowly, placing it to her lips and very gently allowing it flow out.</p> <p>SLAM! Another glass down. Cheering from the crowd. It seemed Moloknya was starting to impress them.</p> <p>The Challenger reached for his next glass. Putting it up to his mouth. He had to stop part way through and swallowed what had made it into his mouth. He sat for a moment, looking unsure.</p> <p>"You can forfeit now if you want," Moloknya said.</p> <p>The Challenger quickly put the glass to his mouth and forced himself to swallow the last bit. Another uproar from the crowd.</p> <p>By now, the challenger was starting to look a bit tipsy. His body was wavering. His eyelids fluttered, but so far he kept his composure.</p> <p>"You're going to have to do better than that," he said. "Is this really the strongest drink in here?"</p> <p>"I can confirm that," the Bartender said.</p> <p>Moloknya reached for her next glass. She was starting to lose count of how many they had gone through so far. She took one solid gulp and downed the whole thing.</p> <p>The Challenger smiled as he reached for his glass, putting it up to his mouth. He managed to take a sip before he began to struggle. His trembling hand couldn't quite reach his mouth. Suddenly he fell out of his seat and onto the floor.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky stared as he took in another spoonful of borscht.</p> <p>"Is that the best we have?" Moloknya yelled out. "Come on, give me a real challenge!"</p> <p>As the first challenger was taken away, a cocky young man stepped forward. "I'll take you," he said.</p> <p>An eager response from the crowd.</p> <p>The second challenger sat down across from Moloknya.</p> <p>"This is going to be easy," he said. "Aren't you already drunk?"</p> <p>"Me? Drunk?" Moloknya said with a smile. "You know what? Let's make this more interesting."</p> <p>She turned her attention to the bartender. "Let's stop wasting time with shots. Bring out a few Bottles."</p> <p>The new challenger's confidence was slipping, though he was obviously trying to hide it. The bartender arrived with a case containing six bottles.</p> <p>"New rules," Moloknya said eagerly. "We each drink three of these."</p> <p>The challenger looked astonished. He slowly reached for the first bottle. He shoved the neck into his mouth and started pouring it down his throat. Then he stopped.</p> <p>Suddenly he spat out a small amount of his drink and began to cough.</p> <p>"What is this stuff?" He yelled.</p> <p>Moloknya reached for one of the bottles and yanked off the cork. She placed the neck into her own mouth. Within seconds, she was guzzling down the liquid.</p> <p>Then she slammed the bottle down into the table.</p> <p>"Thank you everyone," Moloknya said as she stood, just barely slurring. The crowd began exchanging money, having presumably been betting on the outcome.</p> <p>Moloknya made her way back to the counter. She seemed pretty well-composed for someone who had been drinking so much. There was just some barely noticeable wobbling. Probably not ideal for combat but here, not many would notice.</p> <p>"That was fun," Moloknya said as she planted herself into the stool next to Tchaikovsky. "How's the Borscht?"</p> <p>"Really good," Tchaikovsky said.</p> <p>"They make the best Borsch here. I don't know how they do it. I've tried, you know what happened?"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>Moloknya started laughing.</p> <p>"What's so funny?"</p> <p>She signaled to the bartender as he went back behind the counter.</p> <p>"If it were anyone else I would have cut you off," the Bartender remarked. He poured a small glass for Moloknya.</p> <p>Moloknya finally started to calm down. "I miss Kestrov," she said. "And Veronin."</p> <p>"Kestrov's a good man. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."</p> <p>"How is that?" Moloknya said, slightly elongating her words. Her eyes were half-closed, like she was about to pass out at any moment.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky paused as he collected his thoughts. "My… my brother was aboard <em>K-122</em>, under Kestrov's watch. He didn't make it."</p> <p>"Kestrov did everything he could," Moloknya said.</p> <p>"When I learned about it I was just looking for answers. Veronin thought my engineering skills would be useful so he offered me a position in GRU-P. That's of course when I met you."</p> <p>"We've come a long way since then," Moloknya said. "I miss Kestrov already."</p> <p>"I'm sure he's fine," Tchaikovsky said. "He's earned the rest."</p> <p>"You think he's going to come back to us?" Moloknya asked.</p> <p>"I hope so." Tchaikovsky responded. "But what does that mean for us?"</p> <p>"I don't know," Moloknya said. "I guess we'll get some new people, or they'll replace us, maybe? That's Medved's decision."</p> <p>At the mention of that name, Tchaikovsky immediately began thinking of what Captain Medved was probably doing at that moment. Probably at some fancy political gathering, trying to win favors from party members. He probably hadn't even given a thought towards the future of Red Storm in weeks. Or maybe he was busy with some other project he hoped might secure a promotion. Who could say?</p> <p>"You know what really worries me?" Tchaikovsky muttered. "That we'll get separated. They'll just transfer us all out into other units. I don't want to lose you, or Kestrov. We lost enough already. Sometimes I feel like I never left Siberia. I can still hear the screams, I see the faces of dead men. Dead men I knew. And all the people we had to kill in Hue for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes I wonder if-"</p> <p>Tchaikovsky turned toward Moloknya, whom he now realized had been conspicuously silent in the last few minutes. Now he saw why. She was sound asleep, her head resting on the counter, her arms placed as a makeshift pillow.</p> <p>All that alcohol had finally taken effect.</p> <p>"Quite a woman you have there," the bartender said as he approached.</p> <p>"I guess you know each other?"</p> <p>The bartender smiled. "Her mother practically lived out of here during the siege. I've known Anya since she was a baby. You're a lucky man to be her husband."</p> <p>"Oh no," Tchaikovsky said. "We're not married."</p> <p>"You're not?"</p> <p>"No, definitely not. We… uh… work… together."</p> <p>The Bartender smiled. "I see. Would you like me to call a taxi?"</p> <p>"Yes," Tchaikovsky replied. "That would be great."</p> <p>The bartender quickly turned around.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky could hear Moloknya groaning as tried to wrap her arm around his shoulder.</p> <p>"Come on," he muttered. "We're taking you back."</p> <hr/> <p>Moloknya groaned as she started to wake up. It took a moment to realize where she was- lying in a bed, under what felt like a crushingly heavy blanket. Her head was pounding. She felt like she could barely move.</p> <p>She heard someone knocking at the door. At first she shut her eyes. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep.</p> <p>"Moloknya?" a familiar voice called through. Though she recognized Tchaikovsky, she barely felt like she could move.</p> <p>"She threw a pillow over her head, trying to block out the noise. Finally she heard the door open.</p> <p>"Moloknya, how are you feeling?"</p> <p>"Go away," Moloknya muttered.</p> <p>Tchaikovsky approached the bed and took a seat next to Moloknya. She rolled over to face him.</p> <p>He was looking cleaner today. He had evidently taken some time to trim his beard, making it look a lot neater. In his hands were too steaming cups.</p> <p>"I brought you some coffee," Tchaikovsky said. He held one of them towards Moloknya.</p> <p>She slowly sat up, her head still throbbing. Her hands grasped the cup and took a large sip.</p> <p>"You drank a lot yesterday," Tchaikovsky said. "I can't imagine the hangover you must be experiencing."</p> <p>"You have no idea what that stuff does to you," Moloknya said.</p> <p>"What was that drink anyway?"</p> <p>"My mother's secret recipe," Moloknya said, with a smile.</p> <p>"I wanted to thank you for yesterday," Tchaikovsky continued. "For getting me out. It… it really helped."</p> <p>Moloknya took another sip of her coffee.</p> <p>"I do have some good news. I was just informed that Kestrov's been cleared for service. He's on his way back right now."</p> <p>Even with the pain of her hangover, the knowledge of Kestrov's return was a small comfort to Moloknya.</p> <p>"Is he still in charge?"</p> <p>"No," Tchaikovsky said. "They're assigning someone new. I think they're still deciding."</p> <p>Tchaikovsky stood. "Right now, you look like you could use the rest."</p> <p>"What are you going to do?"</p> <p>"There's a truck that's been having some engine problems. I was going to take a look at it. I'll come by to check on you later."</p> <p>Moloknya nodded as Tchaikovsky stepped out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Moloknya carefully placed the cup on the table next to her before lying back down. She rolled over and shut her eyes, quickly drifting back to sleep.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/red-army-blues">Red Army Blues</a>" by Chickadee42, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/red-army-blues">https://scpwiki.com/red-army-blues</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] //Leningrad, Russia, 1968// Tchaikovsky lay alone in bed. The sheets around him were a mess. He remained still, looking up at the ceiling fan. He watched it spin, faster and faster, like a helicopter's rotorblades. He stank. His beard desperately needed shaving. It seemed to take every ounce of strength in his body just to sit up. When he finally did, he approached the window, glancing through into the streets below. He half-expected to find himself back in Huế. He almost swore he could hear the sounds of shelling and gunfire. But in front of him lay the cold streets of Leningrad. It was a strange feeling, like he needed to be somewhere else. The mundane life of a city street felt surreal in his mind. He lit up a cigarette, and sat down on the bed. A half-empty bottle of vodka was sitting on the table next to him. He grabbed the bottle and took a heavy swig. How much time had passed? He could not remember. He kept seeing Veronin, engulfed in flaming napalm, dying painfully. He could recall Kestrov's face as he was forced to kill the man he looked up to. Veronin was gone, nothing could change that now. And yet that one thought persisted: //Why did it have to be him? Why am I alive?// Veronin was gone. Last he heard, Kestrov was on leave. After everything they had been through, it seemed a wonder he was still alive. But that left only him and Moloknya. It seemed this was the end of Red Storm. GRU-P was probably just keeping him here until they figured out what they wanted to do with him. Tchaikovsky took another swig of the Vodka when he heard someone knocking at the door. The noise seemed deafening in his ears. He just fell back onto the bed. Right now he did not feel like he could be bothered with anyone. But the knocking persisted. Until finally he heard the door break open. "UUUUgggghhh... leave me alone." "Look at yourself," a woman's voice said. He internally cursed as he realized who was approaching him. Of course it was Moloknya. She wasted no time entering and walking straight toward Tchaikovsky's hungover and unkempt form. "Get up." Tchaikovsky didn't move. Next thing he knew, her hands were grabbing him and dragging him off the bed. With all her might, Moloknya pulled Tchaikovsky toward the bathroom, shoving him inside and into the shower. Then she turned it on. Tchaikovsky was stunned as he felt water running down his body. Before he even processed what was happening, the water was off and he was suddenly holding a set of dry clothes. "Get changed, we're leaving." "What?" "You've spent enough time in here feeling sorry for yourself. I'm getting you out whether you like it or not. Put them on." Moloknya stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door. Though he was very confused, he slowly began to put on the new clothes. As he stepped out, Moloknya was waiting patiently at the door. "Come on," she said. "Where are we going?" "Outside," she replied. ------ A taxi was already parked on the side of the road, which Moloknya quickly approached. She knocked on the window, which was quickly lowered, and handed a few rubles to the driver. She then motioned for Tchaikovsky to enter. He took a seat in the cab, still visibly confused by what was happening. "You've been sitting in that room for a week," Moloknya said. "I know this feels strange but it's for your own good." The taxi stopped in front of a bar. Moloknya handed another wad of rubles to the driver before she stepped out. "Come on," she said. Tchaikovsky stepped out of the taxi and followed Moloknya inside. The bar was a lively place. A lot of men in uniform were enjoying themselves. They took a seat at the counter. "Anya!" The Bartender said with a smile. "What can I do for you?" "Two vodkas," Moloknya replied. "The good stuff. And some borscht." The bartender quickly poured two glasses before going to pass her order on. "I guess you've been here before?" Tchaikovsky asked. "My mother liked to bring me here," Moloknya replied. "Apparently it was even better before the siege." "How is your mother doing?" "She's good," Moloknya replied. "You know, you've told me about your mother but you've never mentioned your father." "There's not much to tell. He was a soldier. I was told he died fighting in the war." "I'm sorry to hear that." A server arrived with a bowl of borscht, which Moloknya quickly slid in front of Tchaikovsky. "Eat," "What?" "You need to eat something," Tchaikovsky slowly picked up his spoon and began dipping it into the borscht, though he remained quiet. "Mother was never quite the same after the siege. She still has nightmares about it." Two glasses were placed in front of them. A bottle of vodka was poured into each before being placed next to them. "Enjoy," said the Bartender. Moloknya quickly gulped a quarter of her glass. "This is the real thing," she said. "If you're going to drink, at least drink something better than the military rations." Tchaikovsky smiled. He slowly took a sip of his drink. "To be honest," Tchaikovsky murmered. "I still see Veronin... no... worse. I see Kestrov. I see his face as he shot the man we all looked up to. All I can see is... pain. He didn't deserve that." "None of us did," Moloknya replied. "Why'd it have to be him? Why not me?" "You know, my Mother used to wonder the same thing. You heard anything about Kestrov?" "No," Tchaikovsky said. "They said he was on leave. I heard something about a physical exam." "He went through a lot in Hue," Moloknya said. "More than most people could take in his position. The fact that he came out of that alive is proof of his strength." Tchaikovsky took a spoonful of borscht. "Oh wow, this is actually pretty good." "You know what?" Moloknya said. "Let's have some fun." Tchaikovsky was about to stammer out a "what?" Before Moloknya had climbed onto her stool and was standing on the counter. The strange moment had started to get attention from the other patrons. "I'll sleep with anyone," Moloknya announced. "If they can outdrink me!" Even the bartender froze at the scene. "Ten shots of the strongest vodka this establishment can offer. If I fall, I'm yours. Anyone up for the challenge?" A large man with a thick beard stepped forward, a large mug already in his hand. "I'll take you!" He yelled out. Moloknya eagerly jumped off the counter and made her way to a table. The enthusiastic patrons began to surround them. Tchaikovsky looked at the bartender, remembering how he seemed to know Moloknya. "Is she always like this?" "Oh trust me," the bartender said. "This is going to be good." The bartender reached under the counter and grabbed a bottle. He quickly brought it over to the table where Moloknya was sitting across from her challenger. Ten glasses were laid out in front of each of them. The bartender poured the vodka into each one. "The rules are simple," the Bartender said as he put the cap onto his bottle. "You will take turns drinking one shot. When you finish one, you put your glass down. Your opponent will then take his or her shot. If either one falls, they lose." The challenger smiled. Moloknya reached for her first glass. She took one large gulp and downed the shot, before slamming the glass back onto the table. The challenger laughed. "That's nothing," he said. He quickly took a swig of his glass, flipped it over, and slammed it with a dramatic flare. The crowd erupted into cheering. Moloknya reached for her second glass. She drank this one a bit more slowly, allowing everyone to watch as the clear liquid poured into her mouth. Another glass on the table. Tchaikovsky was starting to wonder what exactly was happening. The Challenger gulped his second glass and slammed it onto the table. A smug grin was barely visible in his bushy beard. Moloknya reached for her third glass. She lifted it up slowly, placing it to her lips and very gently allowing it flow out. SLAM! Another glass down. Cheering from the crowd. It seemed Moloknya was starting to impress them. The Challenger reached for his next glass. Putting it up to his mouth. He had to stop part way through and swallowed what had made it into his mouth. He sat for a moment, looking unsure. "You can forfeit now if you want," Moloknya said. The Challenger quickly put the glass to his mouth and forced himself to swallow the last bit. Another uproar from the crowd. By now, the challenger was starting to look a bit tipsy. His body was wavering. His eyelids fluttered, but so far he kept his composure. "You're going to have to do better than that," he said. "Is this really the strongest drink in here?" "I can confirm that," the Bartender said. Moloknya reached for her next glass. She was starting to lose count of how many they had gone through so far. She took one solid gulp and downed the whole thing. The Challenger smiled as he reached for his glass, putting it up to his mouth. He managed to take a sip before he began to struggle. His trembling hand couldn't quite reach his mouth. Suddenly he fell out of his seat and onto the floor. Tchaikovsky stared as he took in another spoonful of borscht. "Is that the best we have?" Moloknya yelled out. "Come on, give me a real challenge!" As the first challenger was taken away, a cocky young man stepped forward. "I'll take you," he said. An eager response from the crowd. The second challenger sat down across from Moloknya. "This is going to be easy," he said. "Aren't you already drunk?" "Me? Drunk?" Moloknya said with a smile. "You know what? Let's make this more interesting." She turned her attention to the bartender. "Let's stop wasting time with shots. Bring out a few Bottles." The new challenger's confidence was slipping, though he was obviously trying to hide it. The bartender arrived with a case containing six bottles. "New rules," Moloknya said eagerly. "We each drink three of these." The challenger looked astonished. He slowly reached for the first bottle. He shoved the neck into his mouth and started pouring it down his throat. Then he stopped. Suddenly he spat out a small amount of his drink and began to cough. "What is this stuff?" He yelled. Moloknya reached for one of the bottles and yanked off the cork. She placed the neck into her own mouth. Within seconds, she was guzzling down the liquid. Then she slammed the bottle down into the table. "Thank you everyone," Moloknya said as she stood, just barely slurring. The crowd began exchanging money, having presumably been betting on the outcome. Moloknya made her way back to the counter. She seemed pretty well-composed for someone who had been drinking so much. There was just some barely noticeable wobbling. Probably not ideal for combat but here, not many would notice. "That was fun," Moloknya said as she planted herself into the stool next to Tchaikovsky. "How's the Borscht?" "Really good," Tchaikovsky said. "They make the best Borsch here. I don't know how they do it. I've tried, you know what happened?" "What?" Moloknya started laughing. "What's so funny?" She signaled to the bartender as he went back behind the counter. "If it were anyone else I would have cut you off," the Bartender remarked. He poured a small glass for Moloknya. Moloknya finally started to calm down. "I miss Kestrov," she said. "And Veronin." "Kestrov's a good man. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him." "How is that?" Moloknya said, slightly elongating her words. Her eyes were half-closed, like she was about to pass out at any moment. Tchaikovsky paused as he collected his thoughts. "My... my brother was aboard //K-122//, under Kestrov's watch. He didn't make it." "Kestrov did everything he could," Moloknya said. "When I learned about it I was just looking for answers. Veronin thought my engineering skills would be useful so he offered me a position in GRU-P. That's of course when I met you." "We've come a long way since then," Moloknya said. "I miss Kestrov already." "I'm sure he's fine," Tchaikovsky said. "He's earned the rest." "You think he's going to come back to us?" Moloknya asked. "I hope so." Tchaikovsky responded. "But what does that mean for us?" "I don't know," Moloknya said. "I guess we'll get some new people, or they'll replace us, maybe? That's Medved's decision." At the mention of that name, Tchaikovsky immediately began thinking of what Captain Medved was probably doing at that moment. Probably at some fancy political gathering, trying to win favors from party members. He probably hadn't even given a thought towards the future of Red Storm in weeks. Or maybe he was busy with some other project he hoped might secure a promotion. Who could say? "You know what really worries me?" Tchaikovsky muttered. "That we'll get separated. They'll just transfer us all out into other units. I don't want to lose you, or Kestrov. We lost enough already. Sometimes I feel like I never left Siberia. I can still hear the screams, I see the faces of dead men. Dead men I knew. And all the people we had to kill in Hue for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes I wonder if-" Tchaikovsky turned toward Moloknya, whom he now realized had been conspicuously silent in the last few minutes. Now he saw why. She was sound asleep, her head resting on the counter, her arms placed as a makeshift pillow. All that alcohol had finally taken effect. "Quite a woman you have there," the bartender said as he approached. "I guess you know each other?" The bartender smiled. "Her mother practically lived out of here during the siege. I've known Anya since she was a baby. You're a lucky man to be her husband." "Oh no," Tchaikovsky said. "We're not married." "You're not?" "No, definitely not. We... uh... work... together." The Bartender smiled. "I see. Would you like me to call a taxi?" "Yes," Tchaikovsky replied. "That would be great." The bartender quickly turned around. Tchaikovsky could hear Moloknya groaning as tried to wrap her arm around his shoulder. "Come on," he muttered. "We're taking you back." ------ Moloknya groaned as she started to wake up. It took a moment to realize where she was- lying in a bed, under what felt like a crushingly heavy blanket. Her head was pounding. She felt like she could barely move. She heard someone knocking at the door. At first she shut her eyes. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep. "Moloknya?" a familiar voice called through. Though she recognized Tchaikovsky, she barely felt like she could move. "She threw a pillow over her head, trying to block out the noise. Finally she heard the door open. "Moloknya, how are you feeling?" "Go away," Moloknya muttered. Tchaikovsky approached the bed and took a seat next to Moloknya. She rolled over to face him. He was looking cleaner today. He had evidently taken some time to trim his beard, making it look a lot neater. In his hands were too steaming cups. "I brought you some coffee," Tchaikovsky said. He held one of them towards Moloknya. She slowly sat up, her head still throbbing. Her hands grasped the cup and took a large sip. "You drank a lot yesterday," Tchaikovsky said. "I can't imagine the hangover you must be experiencing." "You have no idea what that stuff does to you," Moloknya said. "What was that drink anyway?" "My mother's secret recipe," Moloknya said, with a smile. "I wanted to thank you for yesterday," Tchaikovsky continued. "For getting me out. It... it really helped." Moloknya took another sip of her coffee. "I do have some good news. I was just informed that Kestrov's been cleared for service. He's on his way back right now." Even with the pain of her hangover, the knowledge of Kestrov's return was a small comfort to Moloknya. "Is he still in charge?" "No," Tchaikovsky said. "They're assigning someone new. I think they're still deciding." Tchaikovsky stood. "Right now, you look like you could use the rest." "What are you going to do?" "There's a truck that's been having some engine problems. I was going to take a look at it. I'll come by to check on you later." Moloknya nodded as Tchaikovsky stepped out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Moloknya carefully placed the cup on the table next to her before lying back down. She rolled over and shut her eyes, quickly drifting back to sleep. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-01T16:45:00	[ "_licensebox", "gru-division-p", "tale" ]	Red Army Blues - SCP Foundation	13	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "gru-p-hub" ]	[]	1446485113	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/red-army-blues
red-mist	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Twelve figures move like specters across the front lawn of an empty suburban lot, silhouetted against a lone streetlight. They form an arrowhead, piercing the oppressive darkness of the night as they travel further into the destitute property; entirely focused on their surroundings.</p> <p>"Xi-8, going dark." With that, each member crosses an imaginary threshold that completely absconds them from reality. No sign of their presence remains; an owl now hooting in disagreement atop the light-post that previously drew those phantoms into the light.</p> <p>For them, however, the formerly barren property suddenly gives way to an imposing gothic estate ever wearied by age. All the windows are shuttered. It's two stories sag dangerously on tired foundations. Weathered timber warps outwardly, trying in vain to escape its timeless prison.</p> <p>A certain feeling of abandonment… that wordless renunciation of this desecration to the laws of nature extends past subjective experience to something collective. That belief is held by those equally alien eyes now watching, observing with analytical precision for something beyond the norms of reality.</p> <p>The group converges on the building's landing, stacking adjacent to the front door. It lies ajar. Beckoning. If this was unexpected, the visitors do not show it. Instead, the world around waits with bated breath before one single gesture from their leader, indistinguishable from the rest, cues their entry into its depths. Each are swallowed by the darkness without a whisper of objection.</p> <p>What are little more than shadows pass undisturbed along room after room of cluttered, antiquated furniture, methodically sweeping each corner for signs of opposition. What meets them, however, has long since been retired.</p> <p>Bodies of men are discovered in every room, mangled and bloodied from some unknown assailant. Sprawled about in once frenzied movement, here they remain, stuck in the thick tar of forever. It is a scene of palpable fear: tables and chairs overturned; doors thrown open without regard. Nothing coherent. Just animalistic desire. Survival.</p> <p>Death hangs in the air, thick and viscous. It suffocates, burns the nostrils and dulls the senses; seeking more imprudent victims with outstretched limb. But it's not like they haven't grown accustomed to death. They are ghosts after all.</p> <p>Underpinning every turn of events has insofar been latent expectation. Nothing can surprise these phantoms; as if they had belonged to these halls since before its very inception. A haunted reunion of ancestral proportions.</p> <p>With the rooms cleared, all twelve assemble at the base of the stairs in anticipation for the ascent. Wordlessly, they begin upward, so methodically they seen to float. Halfway up, the first sign of life rears its ugly head through the stillness. An inhuman moan, reminiscent of a ragged, labored exhalation, escapes from the confines of some deeply ensconced room just beyond reach. The spectral apparitions, however, are entirely indifferent to this new revelation as they continue ever upward.</p> <p>A pause as they stand before a doorway, its contents entirely unknown. With death on their minds, they spill across its threshold to stand face to face with a horrific amalgamation. Lying on a makeshift gurney, limbs strapped, is a human whose flesh has seemingly been grafted onto a deer skeleton. Its elongated skull pierces through the person's face, antlers visible through ragged hair. The creature raises its head in confusion; staring at the source of the intrusion with wet, beady eyes. It parts its jaws, stretching the already-taught skin and emitting that same guttural moan. Here now, contextualizing it in its rightful time and place, it bears a resemblance to a groan of anguish, as if the last remnants of humanity within that beast are spent pleading for help.</p> <p>Without a second glance, each of the watchful attendants pull their eyes from the chimera to return to the task at hand. They move to enter the next room before a scuttle across creaking floorboards abruptly reminds them of the rampant, belligerent murderer. More lifeless bodies watch with agape mouth at their entry, as if crying out for retribution. A trail of blood leads to a grotesque mass of fur unidentifiable through the gloom. The thing is seemingly hunched over a corpse, feasting. It has no knowledge of the twelve pairs of eyes currently scrutinizing each minute movement; watching for the slightest display of hostility.</p> <p>Despite belying all natural order, something instinctual, aided by millennia of biological programming alerts that rancid monstrosity to their presence. It stops, raises its head, and turns in their direction.</p> <p>Souls have a curious way of showing themselves through an animal's eyes. A miniscule twinkle of intelligence, an indication that a spark of inquisitive life does truly inhabit that composition of celestial elements.</p> <p>The same cannot be said for what is currently staring down twelve barrels of unadulterated pain. An empty gaze devoid of expression, looking past the physical frame into something deeper; their own souls in turn. It is a hypnotic trance, transcending the present into an ever-ceaseless continuity of now. All caught in its gaze are frozen, stuck in that same forever-tar the lifeless bodies are condemned to. They are no different to dead men.</p> <p>For once, they lose their focus, and must surely pay for it.</p> <p>Now clearly visible as it approaches unopposed, a wild boar - following the rules set out by its deer counterpart, bears distinctly human body parts grafted onto its skeletal base with amateur precision. The boar's thick, bristly fur protrudes through unmistakably human flesh, wide-set mouth wrapping around enormous tusks. Its abdomen so expansive that stitches mark places where the skin-mask has split under the immense tension, wet organs peeking through.</p> <p>This blasphemous creation slams into the nearest threat with the force to match a freight train. Hurtling away into that immutably thick void of nothingness, a painful thud soon places the casualty back into perceivable reality.</p> <p>A voiced grunt of pleasure escapes, thinking it has the upper hand before morphing into pained squealing as it is shredded in a cloud of red mist from all angles. Muzzle flashes plunge the previously pitch-black room into offensively harsh light, betraying the false security of the night.</p> <p>It squeals as it writhes in its own blood, staring languidly at its killers. A death so coldly abrupt, so indiscriminate in its execution that it comes as a surprise to the pig. It is an accusatory look of betrayal. Those shadows, with weapons of unfettered destruction do not play by the rules. But then again, neither does it.</p> <p>It seems so very small now as it lies, curled up, limbs fervently clawing empty air; its soulless eyes grasping for some comfort in the approaching vacuum. It will not die alone; but maybe that is a worse fate.</p> <p>It almost looks human, as if its shared attributes extend past the physical realm to the wanton longing to live another day. A too-late pining; its movements become sluggish: the tar of death has begun to set. In that fleeting moment, it almost looks like the twinkle has returned.</p> <p>No. That's fear. Enough adrenaline to kill an elephant, and most certainly this boar. A last-ditch attempt at survival.</p> <p>Predator, becoming prey, reverting back to its most simplistic form of existence.</p> <p>Some help their injured teammate, others remain entranced by the now lifeless mass slick with its own blood. The difference between them and it are negligible. An absolutely animal eagerness to kill, sure. But when it really comes down to it, when they're stripped of all conditioned mental safety nets and assistance, they too will revert to operating on fear. Just as the boar did, and its victims too. No matter of world-class training can rid anyone of it - especially not them.</p> <p>They're not so sure they have the twinkle anymore.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/red-mist">Red Mist</a>" by AnomalyInvestigator, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/red-mist">https://scpwiki.com/red-mist</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] Twelve figures move like specters across the front lawn of an empty suburban lot, silhouetted against a lone streetlight. They form an arrowhead, piercing the oppressive darkness of the night as they travel further into the destitute property; entirely focused on their surroundings. "Xi-8, going dark." With that, each member crosses an imaginary threshold that completely absconds them from reality. No sign of their presence remains; an owl now hooting in disagreement atop the light-post that previously drew those phantoms into the light. For them, however, the formerly barren property suddenly gives way to an imposing gothic estate ever wearied by age. All the windows are shuttered. It's two stories sag dangerously on tired foundations. Weathered timber warps outwardly, trying in vain to escape its timeless prison. A certain feeling of abandonment… that wordless renunciation of this desecration to the laws of nature extends past subjective experience to something collective. That belief is held by those equally alien eyes now watching, observing with analytical precision for something beyond the norms of reality. The group converges on the building's landing, stacking adjacent to the front door. It lies ajar. Beckoning. If this was unexpected, the visitors do not show it. Instead, the world around waits with bated breath before one single gesture from their leader, indistinguishable from the rest, cues their entry into its depths. Each are swallowed by the darkness without a whisper of objection. What are little more than shadows pass undisturbed along room after room of cluttered, antiquated furniture, methodically sweeping each corner for signs of opposition. What meets them, however, has long since been retired. Bodies of men are discovered in every room, mangled and bloodied from some unknown assailant. Sprawled about in once frenzied movement, here they remain, stuck in the thick tar of forever. It is a scene of palpable fear: tables and chairs overturned; doors thrown open without regard. Nothing coherent. Just animalistic desire. Survival. Death hangs in the air, thick and viscous. It suffocates, burns the nostrils and dulls the senses; seeking more imprudent victims with outstretched limb. But it's not like they haven't grown accustomed to death. They are ghosts after all. Underpinning every turn of events has insofar been latent expectation. Nothing can surprise these phantoms; as if they had belonged to these halls since before its very inception. A haunted reunion of ancestral proportions. With the rooms cleared, all twelve assemble at the base of the stairs in anticipation for the ascent. Wordlessly, they begin upward, so methodically they seen to float. Halfway up, the first sign of life rears its ugly head through the stillness. An inhuman moan, reminiscent of a ragged, labored exhalation, escapes from the confines of some deeply ensconced room just beyond reach. The spectral apparitions, however, are entirely indifferent to this new revelation as they continue ever upward. A pause as they stand before a doorway, its contents entirely unknown. With death on their minds, they spill across its threshold to stand face to face with a horrific amalgamation. Lying on a makeshift gurney, limbs strapped, is a human whose flesh has seemingly been grafted onto a deer skeleton. Its elongated skull pierces through the person's face, antlers visible through ragged hair. The creature raises its head in confusion; staring at the source of the intrusion with wet, beady eyes. It parts its jaws, stretching the already-taught skin and emitting that same guttural moan. Here now, contextualizing it in its rightful time and place, it bears a resemblance to a groan of anguish, as if the last remnants of humanity within that beast are spent pleading for help. Without a second glance, each of the watchful attendants pull their eyes from the chimera to return to the task at hand. They move to enter the next room before a scuttle across creaking floorboards abruptly reminds them of the rampant, belligerent murderer. More lifeless bodies watch with agape mouth at their entry, as if crying out for retribution. A trail of blood leads to a grotesque mass of fur unidentifiable through the gloom. The thing is seemingly hunched over a corpse, feasting. It has no knowledge of the twelve pairs of eyes currently scrutinizing each minute movement; watching for the slightest display of hostility. Despite belying all natural order, something instinctual, aided by millennia of biological programming alerts that rancid monstrosity to their presence. It stops, raises its head, and turns in their direction. Souls have a curious way of showing themselves through an animal's eyes. A miniscule twinkle of intelligence, an indication that a spark of inquisitive life does truly inhabit that composition of celestial elements. The same cannot be said for what is currently staring down twelve barrels of unadulterated pain. An empty gaze devoid of expression, looking past the physical frame into something deeper; their own souls in turn. It is a hypnotic trance, transcending the present into an ever-ceaseless continuity of now. All caught in its gaze are frozen, stuck in that same forever-tar the lifeless bodies are condemned to. They are no different to dead men. For once, they lose their focus, and must surely pay for it. Now clearly visible as it approaches unopposed, a wild boar - following the rules set out by its deer counterpart, bears distinctly human body parts grafted onto its skeletal base with amateur precision. The boar's thick, bristly fur protrudes through unmistakably human flesh, wide-set mouth wrapping around enormous tusks. Its abdomen so expansive that stitches mark places where the skin-mask has split under the immense tension, wet organs peeking through. This blasphemous creation slams into the nearest threat with the force to match a freight train. Hurtling away into that immutably thick void of nothingness, a painful thud soon places the casualty back into perceivable reality. A voiced grunt of pleasure escapes, thinking it has the upper hand before morphing into pained squealing as it is shredded in a cloud of red mist from all angles. Muzzle flashes plunge the previously pitch-black room into offensively harsh light, betraying the false security of the night. It squeals as it writhes in its own blood, staring languidly at its killers. A death so coldly abrupt, so indiscriminate in its execution that it comes as a surprise to the pig. It is an accusatory look of betrayal. Those shadows, with weapons of unfettered destruction do not play by the rules. But then again, neither does it. It seems so very small now as it lies, curled up, limbs fervently clawing empty air; its soulless eyes grasping for some comfort in the approaching vacuum. It will not die alone; but maybe that is a worse fate. It almost looks human, as if its shared attributes extend past the physical realm to the wanton longing to live another day. A too-late pining; its movements become sluggish: the tar of death has begun to set. In that fleeting moment, it almost looks like the twinkle has returned. No. That's fear. Enough adrenaline to kill an elephant, and most certainly this boar. A last-ditch attempt at survival. Predator, becoming prey, reverting back to its most simplistic form of existence. Some help their injured teammate, others remain entranced by the now lifeless mass slick with its own blood. The difference between them and it are negligible. An absolutely animal eagerness to kill, sure. But when it really comes down to it, when they're stripped of all conditioned mental safety nets and assistance, they too will revert to operating on fear. Just as the boar did, and its victims too. No matter of world-class training can rid anyone of it - especially not them. They're not so sure they have the twinkle anymore. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=AnomalyInvestigator]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-27T11:05:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Red Mist - SCP Foundation	-7	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "lowest-rated-articles", "lowest-rated-pages" ]	[]	1449573417	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/red-mist
red-plague-rid-you-for-learning-me-your-language	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article contains discussions of suicide and self-harm.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p>How're you doing tonight? You guys take returns here, right? It's store brand, if that matters.</p> <p>It’s a really muggy night, isn’t it? It’s really— oh, yeah. I’m returning this activated charcoal.</p> <p>Yes.</p> <p>Well, okay, there really isn't an issue with it.</p> <p>No, I just thought I'd need it. To like, you know. Purify.</p> <p>Yeah, I was worried I'd take the pills and get, like, you know. Wanna take the step back. But I didn't need them.</p> <p>Oh, I mean, they didn't work. The pills I took. I bought them from my drug dealer. I thought maybe I might get close to dying, yeah, dying. And then I'd, you know, not want to.</p> <p>But it turned out to be okay, yeah. They didn't work.</p> <p>Pain pills. They didn’t do anything to me. Sort of worried about getting really injured now or something.</p> <p>Store credit is fine. Just on this card? That’s so handy.</p> <p>Thank you so much. Have a wonderful night.</p> <hr/> <p>You stared down at the pot pie in front of you. You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed eating one. The times you had the patience to cook them correctly, they were golden and crisp, filled with a warm and savory gravy. But maybe all of those times had been imagined. You always deluded yourself into thinking that this time they’d be fantastic.</p> <p>It was mush in your mouth. The pastry and gravy coagulated in the bowl like a blood clot after just a moment. Every part tasting the same. The chicken snapped against your teeth more like scallops. The perfect full moon slices of carrot were a pale white orange.</p> <p>You were always hungry, but the thought of eating food rarely appealed to you. The weight you had put on challenged that, but consuming mass quantities could quiet your thoughts, however brief.</p> <p>“Did you have fun, Jude?” Your phone blinked with Esther’s message. You tilted your head at her. You knew she couldn't see you. No one was in your apartment.</p> <p>“Tell me about your playdate.” You heard her so clearly, even though she wasn’t there. And her voice dripped with that horrible singsong of hers. “What did you and the Couple Wilson do?”</p> <p>“I had fun,” but you never just left it at that. You wanted to stop. But you kept going. “I think I was really, like, charming. And super convincing.”</p> <p>“In what way?” and she leaned forward in her seat, hand on her chin like a conspiratorial cat.</p> <p>You took a bite of the pot pie and immediately opened your mouth to let it ventilate before hastily swallowing, pelican-like. It burnt your tongue, but there was a sliver of ice, sharp and sudden. The antipode, a scorched tongue and a bruised throat, was your basic pot pie experience. You stirred the sludge with the spoon. You wished you were dead. You wished that you had been born dead to spare your parents the disappointment of looking down from heaven to see your failure.</p> <p>“I think I came across like a dude with a normal brain. I had great movie recommendations. The boy one, like, he made a little soup. From scratch. Did you know people do that? And, like, lemon squares. God, I didn't even know I liked lemon squares.”</p> <p>“What else?”</p> <p>“He was just, God. So polite. And he had this Vespa. Like a little mod.” You found yourself smiling dreamily before you realized your error.</p> <p>You had gushed. You could see the Cheshire grin on her face. Oh God, you hated when you gave her the opportunity to do that.</p> <p>There were so many things she could say. Most of them weren’t nice. Pointed, but not malicious. Esther had never seen a moment of weakness in you that she wouldn't prod and poke.</p> <p>“Cool story, faggot,” but she was all smiles. “You should talk to Fae about it. Maybe she'll fix you two up.”</p> <p>“You can't talk to the girl one about affection for the boy one.”</p> <p>“You can when they're both poly adults. And you're, arguably, a grown man with all of the horrible baggage that entails.” And then she got that Look they give you.</p> <p>People had been giving you the Look since before you realized that you were an actual thinking being. Your first memory was probably the Look. You couldn’t remember.</p> <p>You had always been a great concern to people. Your mother and father were always so frightened of the bleak emptiness gnawing at the very core of your belly, spreading out like white hot thorns of an infernal contagion, grasping endlessly inside for purchase. They dealt with your moods as best they could. But nothing could ever stop the Look from spreading. From your family to your friends, and soon, the world had been united in great pity for you.</p> <p>The Look was concern. It was sorrow. Disappointment that their son, their friend, their You was so broken, so incapable of happiness. It was fear. Fear for the possibilities, the fruits of your sadness. The kind of things that you did to yourself or could do to yourself. Once your mother asked how you had burned yourself. A cigarette burn, a deep and perfect pit, pushed deep into the skin on the inside of your arm. You lied, and you said it was an accident. You wished she cried. Tears were preferable to that quiet pity.</p> <p>“Have you been okay?”</p> <p>“It's a wonder filled life. Just absolutely.” You wondered how you could even come up with such banal bullshit. It was ashes on your tongue. This morning you had spat gray into the sink when you brushed your teeth. It could've been from burning your tongue twice in a row, on two separate pot pies. But you thought it was sludge. You thought it was something real and present and horrible in you that was manifesting and clinging to the inside of your throat and your mouth and your tongue like gingivitis except something twisted and myconid, some horrible no-color muteness that was your world, your life, the everything that could ever be experienced by you.</p> <p>“I'm fine, Esther.”</p> <p>“You haven't tried?”</p> <p>“Not for the longest time.” A lie. It was a week before. The toaster. You notated it in your head like a tallymark, just the most recent of the many times you’ve tried to die. But your body always stopped it. “I've been doing what you said. Making like more of a decision to try to be happy.”</p> <p>“I never told you that.”</p> <p>“Someone told me that.”</p> <p>“I wish you'd lie to me better.” And she sighed, leaning back on your ratty, stinking couch. If she were there, she would have complained. It was sweat smelling, just about the worst, and there were sticky marks from half dried Diet Pepsi. But she wasn't. So she didn’t complain, and the couch didn't creak beneath her ass as she didn't lounge on it.</p> <p>“I don’t know why you’d accuse me of that.”</p> <p>“Promise me you'll at least say something to Faeowynn. For me. For your friend, Esther, who's dealt with your bullshit for a very long time and loves you. Who wants you just to be your best self and thrive.”</p> <p>“You sound like a mother.”</p> <p>“You should be lucky to have a mother like me. Talk to me later. I expect an update.”</p> <p>And then she was gone. And you were still alone in your apartment. You wished there was anything left to eat in your house besides the pot pies.</p> <hr/> <p>Hi! Do you remember me?</p> <p>Oh God, no. That's totally fine. I absolutely don't expect you to.</p> <p>I brought back the activated charcoal. Do you remember that now? Yeah, I was the suicide guy. I think I'm wearing the same shirt.</p> <p>You must work here a lot, huh? Always nights?</p> <p>I'm really sorry about that.</p> <p>That's good, at least. I'm a night owl, too.</p> <p>I'm returning this. I think it's store brand, if that matters. Yeah, I did open them.</p> <p>Well, the razors, like, don't work on me.</p> <p>No, like. Let me have that. Look. See how it's sort of bendy against my skin?</p> <p>No, it's real. See. Yeah, they're real.</p> <p>Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Yeah, I won't do that. No, I get it. That was fucked up of me.</p> <p>Store credit is fine. Thank you so much. You're an angel, and I hope you have a great rest when you can finally sleep.</p> <p>Thank you.</p> <hr/> <p>You hadn't done this in the longest time. You were never good at it to begin with, and you didn't have the script for this situation. What was the etiquette on telling your friend you thought her fiance was hot?</p> <p>“I sort of was waiting for this,” said Faeowynn. It had seemed like an eternity elapsed between you both. It was seven and a half minutes. But that was because she didn't exist in your phone. No one existed in your phone, and you were alone in your living room.</p> <p>Faeowynn was pretty and tall. Pale with sleepy dark eyes, and she was so excited in that quiet, intense weird person way. You had liked her from the very first moment.</p> <p>She laid on your couch with her legs up on the back, dangling over the side. She wasn’t there, but you could see a pale expanse of flesh and the band of girl underwear. You averted your eyes from your absent friend. She noticed and pulled up her shirt and smiled at you. She looked up at you backwards. Her phone was in her hand.</p> <p>You didn't say anything, because there's absolutely nothing you could think of that would be funny. Nothing that could make you look cooler or stronger or more capable than you were.</p> <p>Truthfully, you were attracted to her from the moment you had met her. But then that fell away to a familiarity. She reminded you of people from high school, of Alexander, of you, at your best moments. Or what you liked to pretend you could be.</p> <p>“You're not subtle about the kind of people you like.”</p> <p>You bristle at the suggestion that you could be read. Sure, you talked a lot about the kind of men you found attractive. The strange deerlike allure of the twink. Sylvan men cast in silver, so fragile and strong that it was a wonder metallurgy could have ever created something so perfect. Eyes made out of precious amber taken from the depths of an antediluvian cave, coalesced and hardened memory of all things beautiful and elegant and pristine and Unlike You. Swirling red and pink with a fire you wish you could remember. A fire you wish you could say once warmed you.</p> <p>“I can't see you right now,” she said, and it would have been worse if she was next to you. “But I know the long pause is because you're thinking something crazy.” Her long legs swung to the side, and she stretched.</p> <p>You weren’t exactly thrilled that you constantly had her stretching. You lengthened her shirt.</p> <p>“I'm actually doing other things at the same time.”</p> <p>She laughed, and you smiled. That's the lie upheld for at least another conversation. That you were normal. That you could function in a human society without obsessing and cringing and mewling like a sick fucking dog.</p> <p>“I can talk to him for you if you want.” And you can't decide how she said that. Is she smiling? Is it knowing? Is it an honest request made by a woman who knows about as much as you do? Of course, there's an implication there. You can't do it. You don't know how to do it, because you have a weird dick. Because you are a disgusting thing, a Frankenstein's monster made in your own image in this fucked up ouroborous. The snake fucking itself endlessly, fucking itself directly in its own stupid brain until it dies. Reptilian-brained onanism that satisfied nothing, and you were going to die alone, Jude Kriyot. You were going to die forever and ever, burning in perdition for the sin of being a coward who aspired to sin, who aspired to lust and fuck and spit and bleed but instead made little jokes, little laughs that touched nothing, that saw nothing deeper in anyone, in anything.</p> <p>But that wasn't the implication. It was only the implication if you were crazy.</p> <p>It had been fun to be around normal people for once. You had cleaned up so much beforehand. It was sort of sad, really. It made you think of some tragic housewife in a Tennessee Williams play putting on her decaying lace finery, desperate to go out to the debutante ball or whatever for the very last time. You had never read a Williams play, but you knew he was gay. That seemed what a gay southern man would write about. You wondered if Tennessee had been a top or a bottom.</p> <p>But those moments were like glass beads. They were cold and clear, and maybe more like magic pink pearls. The Pearls of Lutra. That was more your speed. Every moment you were allowed to feel like an adult human being, a real person with real friends who existed beyond abstraction, was like that. It was something perfect, something raw. Your head hurt. Your head always hurt.</p> <p>“I don't want there to be any pressure. This is a normal thing, right?”</p> <p>“Totally normal. It's really actually cute. It's endearing to me how much you've been thinking about this.”</p> <p>It was pathetic. What she meant was it was pathetic. Faeowynn would never have meant that. The Wilson's Wildlife bitch herself. Friend to all animals, great and small. A lot of the small. You had never known someone to keep so many bugs in their home. (How many people do you know, Jude? How many people's homes have you been invited inside? Who is confiding in a man like you? Who wants you to see the way they live in their most intimate sanctuaries?) In plastic little boxes, obviously. Or glass. You hadn't touched them. They were filled with dead leaves and dirt and wood. To recreate what it was used to.</p> <p>“I'm going to just text him.” And you tapped back to the notepad.</p> <p>Hi, I think you're super cute. Would you maybe want to go on a date sometime?</p> <p>You had revised the text what felt like hundreds of times. It had been so much longer before. You had pledged to not be weird, to be a normal guy and to not be like the movie SwimFan, which you assumed everyone had seen and understood. But you were so fucking stupid, always so foolish and clumsy and inelegant. You were a beast. You couldn't put a single word together in a way that satisfied you. There was nothing possible, no collection of words that could encode your feelings and your vibe and your failings in a way that could convince anyone that you were something close to normal.</p> <p>Your room was always hot. Homes in suburban Cleveland, Ohio always got so hot. Especially upstairs. You had been born in a home like this. Well, sort of. You were in an apartment cut from a bigger house on a double cul-de-sac. It reminded you of where you were born. You hated it and wanted to leave.</p> <p>“I think this could be good for you.” What did that mean? What could that be? Was that sneering? She didn't sneer. You hadn't known her to sneer. She had been unfailingly polite. A friend. A kind, good friend. You breathed, and she was smiling. She wanted you to be happy. Why wouldn't your friend want that?</p> <p>She touched your shoulder. You wondered if that was too much. What kind of touch was a friend touch? Would she have if any of this had happened in the world of flesh?</p> <p>“I do, too. This is healthy. I'm a very healthy guy, Fae.”</p> <p>“You’re so horny about twinks I’m surprised you can breathe.”</p> <p>“Shut up, pee girl,” you said, and it was funny. You were always funny and quick, and you could be a delightful dinner companion if people gave you the chance, you thought. That you would behave at weddings and be good and worth inviting. That you would be the great favorite. You would give a speech, and everyone's parents would love you. The oldest man and woman at the wedding would give you a wreath and a crown and a book of the old words, and you would pass down your knowledge and treasures to the children you were certain you couldn't have.</p> <p>“You bring that up so much I'm starting to think you're actually the one into it.”</p> <p>You laughed, and for a moment, you're definitely okay.</p> <p>And then you’re alone again. No one was in your apartment.</p> <p>You sent the text. You held the cellphone tight to your chest. But you soon threw it across the room. You picked up an extra pillow, coverless and looking more like a used band-aid than anything anyone would ever willingly stick a piece of their body on. And you threw that on top of the phone.</p> <p>Only then you laid down on your back and stared at the ceiling.</p> <p>And there you remained for twenty seconds before sliding off the bed and checking to see if he had responded.</p> <hr/> <p>Hey! It's funny I keep seeing you here. That's fun. It's like we're both night friends, you know.</p> <p>Like pals of the night time. Have you read Our Lady of the Flowers? It's gay French smut written by a dude in prison.</p> <p>Oh, yeah, I want to return this, like, tube thing? It's definitely for sure store brand. You can see it, yeah, right here.</p> <p>This one is embarrassing. No, I know, but this one is almost funny. You'll love it. Trust me.</p> <p>So I came home with this, right? And I was for sure like, I don't know. Ready to maybe swallow gas? Or like, bad air? And I realized, you know. I don't actually own a car. I don't even have a gas oven. I thought maybe, you know, I could suck gas out of the oven with the tube, like Who's Afraid of Viginia Woolf.</p> <p>No, no, yeah. Definitely my fault. Sorry.</p> <p>Oh, is that a ring? You're married? That's so beautiful. I really love the, you know. The sacrament of marriage. It's one of the most important steps in the spiritual journey. It's closeness to God.</p> <p>Yeah, store credit is totally fine.</p> <p>Thank you so much. Tell your husband I said hi. I really hope you have a nice time at work here. I hope you keep safe in the, like, darknesses of the night.</p> <p>Yeah, darknesses.</p> <hr/> <p>The No Thank You he had sent was so polite. The fact that it sent you spiraling was a little embarrassing. It was a lot embarrassing. It had been the very picture of civility. Of graciousness. He had told you to not it let stop you from speaking to him still, to not let it get in the way of the friendship you had started. And to not let it ruin your confidence.</p> <p>“He just told me he sent it,” Faeowynn said. “I thought this could be a confidence thing. A booster.”</p> <p>And you kept thinking of that part. Picking it apart in your head. They had thought you had confidence? Did people think you were sure of yourself? Maybe it hadn't been apparent that you had slaved over the text like you were trying to unlock the secret formula, the equation to make everyone love you forever and to never say anything that could upset you ever again.</p> <p>You couldn't tell if it was mocking or not. Of course, it wasn't. Nobody was being mean to you. Nobody was trying to hurt you. Everyone was going out of their way to treat you with fucking children gloves, Jude. They were waiting for you to grow up and stop thinking of yourself as the sad, beleaguered champion of the universe. Who were you to challenge the loneliness God had judged fit for you? Maybe your cowardice was actually a blessing. Maybe it had kept you from the lowest sin. The self-pity so loathsome and cold, a hell even beneath the three ever-chomping faces of Satan that chewed on some old Roman Shakespeare guys and Judas forever. You would be in the gullet, maybe. Already chewed, where it was cold and wet and sticky forever, where the bile and the back molars nipped and crushed and burnt until you could barely remember what pleasure had been.</p> <p>“I'm so sorry. I really didn't think you'd take it like this.” Faeowynn wasn’t laying comfortably. She perched over you, with the Look. And you could practically feel the pregnant pause. “I knew there was a distinct possibility he’d say no. Because of his own stuff. But I thought there was also a small chance he'd go for it.”</p> <p>Fae had been clear, but you felt as though you had been hoodwinked. It was a feeling you tried your hardest to hold onto, to blame for your foolish openness in the face of your own terrible feelings. You wondered if this was a sex thing. If this was a humiliation thing. Had they purposefully made you become attracted to a twink to use it against you for their own amusement? It was crazy. It was absolutely something an insane person would come up with. No one was laughing at you. Your friends felt bad.</p> <p>But it was also because you were ugly. It was because your teeth were wrong. It was the acne that you’ve never been able to be rid of. It was the gross giant pores all over your nose and forehead. You knew this, but they would never say it. They always denied it. There was nothing more offensive to a pretty person than an ugly person realizing their ugliness.</p> <p>“I should never have done this, and I want to die,” you said before immediately deleting it. She didn't need to see that. You were enough as is.</p> <p>You saw her concerned. You had never seen a sad look on her face yet. The newness of your friendship suddenly hit you. Why had you done this? Who does this? You didn’t even know her sad face, and you think you’re gonna romance her husband?</p> <p>“It's great you still made new friends, right?” said Esther, and you closed out the bubble. You didn't want her in your room right then. You hated that she was right. The huge bitch.</p> <p>“I wanted to do this. It was my, like, decision. I hate putting you in a position like this,” you finally said. It was your decision. It was all you, and that was why you hated her and you and him. Why hadn’t anyone stopped you? Why hadn’t SWAT agents burst through your window and wrestled the phone from your hands and castrated you for good measure just to make sure nothing like this ever happened again?</p> <p>“You're both of our friends, and we really had a good time hanging out with you.” And it was such a perfectly nice thing to say it made you want to kill her.</p> <p>Why did everyone so pretty have to be so good? Why were all these horribly attractive people so fucking magnanimous in their almost united disgust for you? Why were you, an ugly weirdo, cursed to have a soul that shone so dimly, so completely darkly? Like the kind of darkness in a videogame, veined and highlighted in infrared purple so stark and so drastic that it looked cut through the fabric of reality into the nothing behind the absence that was what happened when life was sucked dry, everything dead and gone.</p> <p>“I can never talk to him again,” you said. “It’s an unequal balance now. I showed my hand. He knows me. All of his behavior is going to be changed, filtered. Through knowing I think he’s attractive. I am perpetually the loser. The fail dude.”</p> <p>“I wouldn’t have had you do this if I knew it was like this.” But she didn’t know. She didn’t know you were this crazy. “He doesn’t think like that.”</p> <p>And was there a snap to her voice? The sorrow was replaced by a flash of irritation on her pale face and her sleepy eyes. You couldn’t decide how you saw it. How you heard it. She stood away from you now, leaning against your bedroom door. She wanted to leave. She wanted to end this. You could always tell the desperate desire to end a conversation with you, to be saved from more crazed, sad things texted by an anchorite filled with chicken gravy.</p> <p>You had only met the boy once. You kept telling yourself that. No one owed your their attraction. Certainly, it would be nice. But it wasn’t bad. This happened to people every day, and just because you felt new to it, like a fucking crying babe, it didn’t mean your pain was special. It didn’t mean your pain was the worst. This was just the pain you felt right now. And it would be short, because it was only a single boy. A single boy you barely knew.</p> <p>“It feels very representative,” you finally said. “It’s like a metaphor for everything about my life. The objective correlative of my existence.”</p> <p>“What do you mean, Jude?”</p> <p>Maybe you’d just die. And everyone would go to your funeral and wail to God and ask why They could destroy such a beautiful and perfect person. You wanted to tell her something worse. That you wanted to keep dying for eternity. That you could never love, because you were unworthy of being considered by anyone. You were a fucking grotesquerie.</p> <p>And why would someone like the boy be interested in both Faeowynn and someone like you, Jude? Where was the similarity? What overlapped in the Venn diagram between you two? Had you honestly thought he’d see something in you? That he could look deep in the core of you and see something that everyone else had missed? That a twink you knew was beautiful could also be gifted with the preternatural ability to sense and see but also unlock that hidden part of you that would make you good and complete and real. A person. A man.</p> <p>That twink didn’t exist. That thing didn’t exist inside of you. There was nothing but blood and shit and piss in your body. Nothing deeper. Certainly nothing beautiful.</p> <p>“I think some people are meant to be sad, and that it’s okay to stop hoping. I think this all means that I’m one of those people.” A pause. You tapped at your phone. Your fingers were wet with sweat. The air around was buzzed and anxious. You didn’t know why only your fingers were sweating.</p> <p>“Shut up. You’re not meant to be sad.” And she said that with the Look emblazoned on her face. You didn’t even need to see her to know that. Sometimes the Look could dip between the vast gulf of technology and cross over to you without interruption. But wasn’t this one flecked with more disappointment than usual? Was she sad and mad her new friend was revealed to be insane? “I wouldn’t have told you to do this if I realized this is how you’d feel.”</p> <p>You wondered how to fix this.</p> <p>“I can never speak to him again.”</p> <p>“He wants to be your friend, Jude. We're still your friends.” You could see something plaintive in her eyes. There was honesty in her face. A desperation for you to believe her.</p> <p>You couldn’t. How could anyone still want to be around you?</p> <p>And you tapped your screen in a frenzy. The words were a lot. But it felt incredibly good to type them. It felt beautiful and real. This was the way to act. This was definitely normal. This was what his brain needed.</p> <p>You would save her, him, and yourself in one swift cut.</p> <p>“I think I might like. I don’t know try to hang back for a while. I think I should probably set like both your accounts to mute, or something. I sort of wanted to delete his number for now. I don't know. That seems too much. But I honestly just don’t see the next time I’ll ever be able to text him.” And you can't face her. You feel ashamed and naked and vulnerable, and she was so nice and giving and tried to make you feel better. And all you did was say extremely sad things. All you did was want and need and hunger. This would be good. This would be doing her a favor. This is something she'll appreciate. “I don't know when I can face the both of you ever again.”</p> <p>Faeowynn didn't respond for the longest time, so you placed the phone on your nightstand.</p> <p>She wasn’t there. The lanky girl with the bug tattoos and the exciting social life you hungered for had never really been there.</p> <p>Your room was small, and your bed lonely. It smelled like you so strongly that you were certain you could clone at least six hundred of you just from the fumes. You wondered what it was like to choose happiness out of every possibility. You wondered what it would be like to be something closer to normal, a man who could take disappointment without completely unraveling.</p> <p>You regretted having sent the text. All of them. But you couldn’t undo anything like that. It had already been sent, buzzing and spinning electrons flying through the air like spores. And the spores carried nothing but your bullshit. Your sorrow and your self-loathing. Your need toward martyrdom.</p> <p>You wished you had never owned a phone. You wished you had been born with a tumor like a rock in your brain. Like a boulder, and as you aged, it grew and grew with you. It took over what you were. Grey, spreading flesh replacing pink wrinkles. And maybe, the you that was the tumor, the tumor that was the life made from you, maybe it would have been a better guy. Maybe it would've treated friends better.</p> <p>You stared at the ceiling and saw shapes in the dimness. Men and women and faces and figures and dreams, and they whispered. They spoke of intimacies you would never achieve, connections that made everything you felt with anyone fade away to dust. The force of the difference, the contrast between the things you felt and experienced and theirs, was a physical pain. It was a lump in your chest. It could have been bronchitis. You had been smoking more than you ever had.</p> <p>As you tried to force sleep, you watched the softly shaking shapes. The dim buzz. The whorls of flesh and shadow and life that you saw in the crenulations and ridges of the cheap popcorn ceiling above you. Flickering to life behind the blur of the overhead fan. As you watched them, you could almost see their joys and their triumphs, as alien to you as lust to a prokaryote. You reached out to the ceiling from your bed. Your fingertips ached for the world above you. The gentler place that would receive you, maybe. That could show you what it meant to exist as a human with love and passion.</p> <p>But you just touched the fuzzy darkness. There was nothing above you but ceiling. There was no secret emotional world of warmth and light that would receive you, just hanging above.</p> <p>You touched yourself. There was no warmth there.</p> <hr/> <p>Hi! It's great that we keep seeing each other. It's fun, don't you think? Those small friends you meet throughout your life.</p> <p>Yeah, like a small friend. A quick friend.</p> <p>Of course. I'd like to take back this toaster. It didn't carry a charge, actually.</p> <p>Okay, yes. It is definitely very wet, but let me explain.</p> <p>No, no, when I plugged it in, it didn't work right away. But I still ended up going in the bath with it, because I thought maybe it was a subtle electricity or something? I couldn't tell you why. It didn't work, as you can see.</p> <p>Yeah, my hair's still wet.</p> <p>Oh, I totally get that. But do you think you could maybe give me, like, the homey price on this? Like, when you buy drugs from— No, I don't want drugs. I mean, could you help me out on this one?</p> <p>No, no, that's fine. I'm a communist. I totally understand. Fuck the bosses, right?</p> <p>I can't leave it here, right? I think I'll just toss it. It was a bad idea, anyway.</p> <p>It's actually great it didn't work. I started thinking the other day, like. What if there was a version of me happy when I was asleep? What if the, what if the dreams I don't remember are good? And if I killed myself, the thing that was feeling joy, the only smallest sliver of my conscious being that was able to breathe and feel calm in its own life, would be killed, too.</p> <p>Sorry, yeah. I guess that's sort of weird to say. I didn't mean to freak you out.</p> <p>Well, thank you. Please, have a wonderful night. And when you sleep, I hope there’s more of you happy than a sliver.</p> <p>You, too.</p> <hr/> <p>You stared at your phone as though you could will away everything weird you had ever said or thought. No amount of effort had channeled your powers into such an effort. You had tried to do that since you were young. You had always regretted so much. The concept of living a life without regrets seemed like a joke to you. It seemed like something someone made up to cover up the fact that they lived a horrific unexamined existence. A person without regrets would have to have been a person who didn’t think about thinking. Maybe a P-zombie or something like that.</p> <p>But Faeowynn probably didn't have a lot of regrets. Esther and JJ and the rest of your friends seemed to exist in that same space.</p> <p>Were they P-zombies? Were they lesser? Because they weren't consumed by a cringing disgust and sorrow at ever having had emotions?</p> <p>“Are you okay, Jude?” asked Esther. The most recent text in a series of small, probing questions to see if you had actually finally done it. You wondered if she thought you killed yourself. If anyone were to kill themselves over something so small, you figured it would be you.</p> <p>“I am okay. I am the strongest big boy in the universe, and I have not been saying incredibly upsetting things to everyone I know all night.”</p> <p>“You fill me with constant feelings of motherly pride.” And you could almost feel her hand on your shoulder. That sad look in her eyes.</p> <p>“I told Fae I probably shouldn’t be friends with either of them for a while.”</p> <p>“Ouch.”</p> <p>“And that I was gonna, like, block their numbers for a bit.” You wanted her to tell you that was the normal choice. That it was an adult’s decision. That trying your hardest to stay away from any kind of pain whatsoever was going to make everything better. That existing in a world without pressure was the best thing for you. “I don’t know. I said a lot of things to her.”</p> <p>“How are you going to take that one back?” she said instead.</p> <p>“The Jude Kriyot Special.”</p> <p>“You’re going to cry?”</p> <p>And you laughed. It was hard not to laugh at that. Tears streamed down your face. You gasped for breath before rolling out of bed. At some point, you had fallen asleep. But it was still night.</p> <p>“A really good apology. Like serious kind.”</p> <p>“Try not to self-flagellate too much when you do, Saint Jude. Not everyone finds your Catholicism charming.”</p> <p>And then she was gone. But that was okay.</p> <p>Outside, there was no sound. There was no one moving around. You stood at the window and stared out into the street. The lamplights bathed everything in a dull orange that tasted like that perfect artificial fruit, the popsicle, the Starburst. You pressed your forehead against the window, and it was not as cold as you would have liked.</p> <p>Outside, in the orangey darkness, there were two deer. They grazed in a yard a few houses down along the left side of the street. You couldn’t tell the genders. Maybe they were both girls. Maybe they were young. They were frightened things, and it was obvious in their movement. Night was the safest time for them, but still, their healthy fear of humans kept them anxious. Kept every synapse in their body ready to snap to attention.</p> <p>Their movement was stiltlike. They walked as though their legs were too fragile and dear to hold up their bodies. You watched them graze, their dainty necks lowering to the grass and back up again like one of those toy bobbing birds with the water cup and the top hat.</p> <p>“I’m really sorry I said that. I slept on it. That’s a stupid thing to do,” you finally said to Faeowynn.</p> <p>She didn’t answer, but that was okay. No one lived in your phone. You looked back out to the deer, but they had moved on when you looked down. You breathed on the glass, hot stank breath becoming the thinnest layer of water. Droplets arrayed like a litebrite.</p> <p>With your finger, you wrote the boy’s name. You stared at it for a very long time. Even with your cramped handwriting, all jagged cursive with loops that never closed right, his name looked beautiful.</p> <p>You knew she would probably forgive you.</p> <p>You knew that you would feel horrible interacting with the boy for a while.</p> <p>You knew that these things were easy for everyone else. But they were hard for you.</p> <p>But you knew you made friends.</p> <p>You had a lot of friends, mostly. You knew people. But you were never the close friend. Never the one invited to the private chats or the weddings or the small birthday parties. People had never seen you that way, and you decided that it was okay. No one needed to love you.</p> <p>It was all going to be okay. Things would be over one day.</p> <p>As you waited for the text, you opened your window. The night carried a breeze that surprised you. But still, you stuck your head through your second story apartment window. And you opened your mouth.</p> <p>And you screamed. A single, reverberating Fuck. A vast expletive. It was louder than you meant. A deer you hadn’t noticed, startled, scampered from the backyard next door. You watched as it ran, lithe and graceful, away from you.</p> <p>Your phone made a noise. You looked down and saw it was Faeowynn. There were no stars in the sky. It was dark and blue and wide. A street light flickered and turned off.</p> <p>The deer didn’t come back.</p> <hr/> <p>Oh gosh, hey! It’s so funny to see you here. How’s your night been?</p> <p>Honestly, mine’s been horrible. But I think it’s okay now, you know. I didn’t fix anything. And I’m still lonely. And I want to die.</p> <p>But I don’t know. Do you ever think it’s okay to be the saddest guy? Do you think maybe the people you think are complete feel just as bad as you do?</p> <p>It’s what I have to keep telling myself, I guess. We’re all sad, and we all want to die.</p> <p>But guess what?</p> <p>No, it’s fine. You don’t really have to guess.</p> <p>What I mean is, if we’re lucky, when we die, we all get to rest in nothing. We are all equal in oblivion. We are all united in that. Isn’t that funny?</p> <p>Oh yeah, I just wanna get these chicken pot pies and these Diet Pepsis with my store credit. Here’s the card.</p> <p>Oh wow, super easy. Quick. You’re so fast at this.</p> <p>Thank you so much, ma’am. Honestly. Thank you. I just want you to know, wait. Actually.</p> <p>Can I use the pen?</p> <p>Here’s my number. If you ever need anything, I want you to call me. If you ever need help, I’m here.</p> <p>No, keep it. Please. I owe you so much.</p> <p>Sleep well tonight when you come home. Tell your children you love them. Kiss your husband.</p> <p>Thank you.</p> <p>You, too.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/red-plague-rid-you-for-learning-me-your-language">Red Plague Rid You for Learning Me Your Language</a>" by kinchtheknifeblade, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/red-plague-rid-you-for-learning-me-your-language">https://scpwiki.com/red-plague-rid-you-for-learning-me-your-language</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/component:scp-pride">component:scp-pride</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains discussions of suicide and self-harm. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] How're you doing tonight? You guys take returns here, right? It's store brand, if that matters. It’s a really muggy night, isn’t it? It’s really— oh, yeah. I’m returning this activated charcoal. Yes. Well, okay, there really isn't an issue with it. No, I just thought I'd need it. To like, you know. Purify. Yeah, I was worried I'd take the pills and get, like, you know. Wanna take the step back. But I didn't need them. Oh, I mean, they didn't work. The pills I took. I bought them from my drug dealer. I thought maybe I might get close to dying, yeah, dying. And then I'd, you know, not want to. But it turned out to be okay, yeah. They didn't work. Pain pills. They didn’t do anything to me. Sort of worried about getting really injured now or something. Store credit is fine. Just on this card? That’s so handy. Thank you so much. Have a wonderful night. ------ You stared down at the pot pie in front of you. You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed eating one. The times you had the patience to cook them correctly, they were golden and crisp, filled with a warm and savory gravy. But maybe all of those times had been imagined. You always deluded yourself into thinking that this time they’d be fantastic. It was mush in your mouth. The pastry and gravy coagulated in the bowl like a blood clot after just a moment. Every part tasting the same. The chicken snapped against your teeth more like scallops. The perfect full moon slices of carrot were a pale white orange. You were always hungry, but the thought of eating food rarely appealed to you. The weight you had put on challenged that, but consuming mass quantities could quiet your thoughts, however brief. “Did you have fun, Jude?” Your phone blinked with Esther’s message. You tilted your head at her. You knew she couldn't see you. No one was in your apartment. “Tell me about your playdate.” You heard her so clearly, even though she wasn’t there. And her voice dripped with that horrible singsong of hers. “What did you and the Couple Wilson do?” “I had fun,” but you never just left it at that. You wanted to stop. But you kept going. “I think I was really, like, charming. And super convincing.” “In what way?” and she leaned forward in her seat, hand on her chin like a conspiratorial cat. You took a bite of the pot pie and immediately opened your mouth to let it ventilate before hastily swallowing, pelican-like. It burnt your tongue, but there was a sliver of ice, sharp and sudden. The antipode, a scorched tongue and a bruised throat, was your basic pot pie experience. You stirred the sludge with the spoon. You wished you were dead. You wished that you had been born dead to spare your parents the disappointment of looking down from heaven to see your failure. “I think I came across like a dude with a normal brain. I had great movie recommendations. The boy one, like, he made a little soup. From scratch. Did you know people do that? And, like, lemon squares. God, I didn't even know I liked lemon squares.” “What else?” “He was just, God. So polite. And he had this Vespa. Like a little mod.” You found yourself smiling dreamily before you realized your error. You had gushed. You could see the Cheshire grin on her face. Oh God, you hated when you gave her the opportunity to do that. There were so many things she could say. Most of them weren’t nice. Pointed, but not malicious. Esther had never seen a moment of weakness in you that she wouldn't prod and poke. “Cool story, faggot,” but she was all smiles. “You should talk to Fae about it. Maybe she'll fix you two up.” “You can't talk to the girl one about affection for the boy one.” “You can when they're both poly adults. And you're, arguably, a grown man with all of the horrible baggage that entails.” And then she got that Look they give you. People had been giving you the Look since before you realized that you were an actual thinking being. Your first memory was probably the Look. You couldn’t remember. You had always been a great concern to people. Your mother and father were always so frightened of the bleak emptiness gnawing at the very core of your belly, spreading out like white hot thorns of an infernal contagion, grasping endlessly inside for purchase. They dealt with your moods as best they could. But nothing could ever stop the Look from spreading. From your family to your friends, and soon, the world had been united in great pity for you. The Look was concern. It was sorrow. Disappointment that their son, their friend, their You was so broken, so incapable of happiness. It was fear. Fear for the possibilities, the fruits of your sadness. The kind of things that you did to yourself or could do to yourself. Once your mother asked how you had burned yourself. A cigarette burn, a deep and perfect pit, pushed deep into the skin on the inside of your arm. You lied, and you said it was an accident. You wished she cried. Tears were preferable to that quiet pity. “Have you been okay?” “It's a wonder filled life. Just absolutely.” You wondered how you could even come up with such banal bullshit. It was ashes on your tongue. This morning you had spat gray into the sink when you brushed your teeth. It could've been from burning your tongue twice in a row, on two separate pot pies. But you thought it was sludge. You thought it was something real and present and horrible in you that was manifesting and clinging to the inside of your throat and your mouth and your tongue like gingivitis except something twisted and myconid, some horrible no-color muteness that was your world, your life, the everything that could ever be experienced by you. “I'm fine, Esther.” “You haven't tried?” “Not for the longest time.” A lie. It was a week before. The toaster. You notated it in your head like a tallymark, just the most recent of the many times you’ve tried to die. But your body always stopped it. “I've been doing what you said. Making like more of a decision to try to be happy.” “I never told you that.” “Someone told me that.” “I wish you'd lie to me better.” And she sighed, leaning back on your ratty, stinking couch. If she were there, she would have complained. It was sweat smelling, just about the worst, and there were sticky marks from half dried Diet Pepsi. But she wasn't. So she didn’t complain, and the couch didn't creak beneath her ass as she didn't lounge on it. “I don’t know why you’d accuse me of that.” “Promise me you'll at least say something to Faeowynn. For me. For your friend, Esther, who's dealt with your bullshit for a very long time and loves you. Who wants you just to be your best self and thrive.” “You sound like a mother.” “You should be lucky to have a mother like me. Talk to me later. I expect an update.” And then she was gone. And you were still alone in your apartment. You wished there was anything left to eat in your house besides the pot pies. ------ Hi! Do you remember me? Oh God, no. That's totally fine. I absolutely don't expect you to. I brought back the activated charcoal. Do you remember that now? Yeah, I was the suicide guy. I think I'm wearing the same shirt. You must work here a lot, huh? Always nights? I'm really sorry about that. That's good, at least. I'm a night owl, too. I'm returning this. I think it's store brand, if that matters. Yeah, I did open them. Well, the razors, like, don't work on me. No, like. Let me have that. Look. See how it's sort of bendy against my skin? No, it's real. See. Yeah, they're real. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Yeah, I won't do that. No, I get it. That was fucked up of me. Store credit is fine. Thank you so much. You're an angel, and I hope you have a great rest when you can finally sleep. Thank you. ------ You hadn't done this in the longest time. You were never good at it to begin with, and you didn't have the script for this situation. What was the etiquette on telling your friend you thought her fiance was hot? “I sort of was waiting for this,” said Faeowynn. It had seemed like an eternity elapsed between you both. It was seven and a half minutes. But that was because she didn't exist in your phone. No one existed in your phone, and you were alone in your living room. Faeowynn was pretty and tall. Pale with sleepy dark eyes, and she was so excited in that quiet, intense weird person way. You had liked her from the very first moment. She laid on your couch with her legs up on the back, dangling over the side. She wasn’t there, but you could see a pale expanse of flesh and the band of girl underwear. You averted your eyes from your absent friend. She noticed and pulled up her shirt and smiled at you. She looked up at you backwards. Her phone was in her hand. You didn't say anything, because there's absolutely nothing you could think of that would be funny. Nothing that could make you look cooler or stronger or more capable than you were. Truthfully, you were attracted to her from the moment you had met her. But then that fell away to a familiarity. She reminded you of people from high school, of Alexander, of you, at your best moments. Or what you liked to pretend you could be. “You're not subtle about the kind of people you like.” You bristle at the suggestion that you could be read. Sure, you talked a lot about the kind of men you found attractive. The strange deerlike allure of the twink. Sylvan men cast in silver, so fragile and strong that it was a wonder metallurgy could have ever created something so perfect. Eyes made out of precious amber taken from the depths of an antediluvian cave, coalesced and hardened memory of all things beautiful and elegant and pristine and Unlike You. Swirling red and pink with a fire you wish you could remember. A fire you wish you could say once warmed you. “I can't see you right now,” she said, and it would have been worse if she was next to you. “But I know the long pause is because you're thinking something crazy.” Her long legs swung to the side, and she stretched. You weren’t exactly thrilled that you constantly had her stretching. You lengthened her shirt. “I'm actually doing other things at the same time.” She laughed, and you smiled. That's the lie upheld for at least another conversation. That you were normal. That you could function in a human society without obsessing and cringing and mewling like a sick fucking dog. “I can talk to him for you if you want.” And you can't decide how she said that. Is she smiling? Is it knowing? Is it an honest request made by a woman who knows about as much as you do? Of course, there's an implication there. You can't do it. You don't know how to do it, because you have a weird dick. Because you are a disgusting thing, a Frankenstein's monster made in your own image in this fucked up ouroborous. The snake fucking itself endlessly, fucking itself directly in its own stupid brain until it dies. Reptilian-brained onanism that satisfied nothing, and you were going to die alone, Jude Kriyot. You were going to die forever and ever, burning in perdition for the sin of being a coward who aspired to sin, who aspired to lust and fuck and spit and bleed but instead made little jokes, little laughs that touched nothing, that saw nothing deeper in anyone, in anything. But that wasn't the implication. It was only the implication if you were crazy. It had been fun to be around normal people for once. You had cleaned up so much beforehand. It was sort of sad, really. It made you think of some tragic housewife in a Tennessee Williams play putting on her decaying lace finery, desperate to go out to the debutante ball or whatever for the very last time. You had never read a Williams play, but you knew he was gay. That seemed what a gay southern man would write about. You wondered if Tennessee had been a top or a bottom. But those moments were like glass beads. They were cold and clear, and maybe more like magic pink pearls. The Pearls of Lutra. That was more your speed. Every moment you were allowed to feel like an adult human being, a real person with real friends who existed beyond abstraction, was like that. It was something perfect, something raw. Your head hurt. Your head always hurt. “I don't want there to be any pressure. This is a normal thing, right?” “Totally normal. It's really actually cute. It's endearing to me how much you've been thinking about this.” It was pathetic. What she meant was it was pathetic. Faeowynn would never have meant that. The Wilson's Wildlife bitch herself. Friend to all animals, great and small. A lot of the small. You had never known someone to keep so many bugs in their home. (How many people do you know, Jude? How many people's homes have you been invited inside? Who is confiding in a man like you? Who wants you to see the way they live in their most intimate sanctuaries?) In plastic little boxes, obviously. Or glass. You hadn't touched them. They were filled with dead leaves and dirt and wood. To recreate what it was used to. “I'm going to just text him.” And you tapped back to the notepad. Hi, I think you're super cute. Would you maybe want to go on a date sometime? You had revised the text what felt like hundreds of times. It had been so much longer before. You had pledged to not be weird, to be a normal guy and to not be like the movie SwimFan, which you assumed everyone had seen and understood. But you were so fucking stupid, always so foolish and clumsy and inelegant. You were a beast. You couldn't put a single word together in a way that satisfied you. There was nothing possible, no collection of words that could encode your feelings and your vibe and your failings in a way that could convince anyone that you were something close to normal. Your room was always hot. Homes in suburban Cleveland, Ohio always got so hot. Especially upstairs. You had been born in a home like this. Well, sort of. You were in an apartment cut from a bigger house on a double cul-de-sac. It reminded you of where you were born. You hated it and wanted to leave. “I think this could be good for you.” What did that mean? What could that be? Was that sneering? She didn't sneer. You hadn't known her to sneer. She had been unfailingly polite. A friend. A kind, good friend. You breathed, and she was smiling. She wanted you to be happy. Why wouldn't your friend want that? She touched your shoulder. You wondered if that was too much. What kind of touch was a friend touch? Would she have if any of this had happened in the world of flesh? “I do, too. This is healthy. I'm a very healthy guy, Fae.” “You’re so horny about twinks I’m surprised you can breathe.” “Shut up, pee girl,” you said, and it was funny. You were always funny and quick, and you could be a delightful dinner companion if people gave you the chance, you thought. That you would behave at weddings and be good and worth inviting. That you would be the great favorite. You would give a speech, and everyone's parents would love you. The oldest man and woman at the wedding would give you a wreath and a crown and a book of the old words, and you would pass down your knowledge and treasures to the children you were certain you couldn't have. “You bring that up so much I'm starting to think you're actually the one into it.” You laughed, and for a moment, you're definitely okay. And then you’re alone again. No one was in your apartment. You sent the text. You held the cellphone tight to your chest. But you soon threw it across the room. You picked up an extra pillow, coverless and looking more like a used band-aid than anything anyone would ever willingly stick a piece of their body on. And you threw that on top of the phone. Only then you laid down on your back and stared at the ceiling. And there you remained for twenty seconds before sliding off the bed and checking to see if he had responded. ------ Hey! It's funny I keep seeing you here. That's fun. It's like we're both night friends, you know. Like pals of the night time. Have you read Our Lady of the Flowers? It's gay French smut written by a dude in prison. Oh, yeah, I want to return this, like, tube thing? It's definitely for sure store brand. You can see it, yeah, right here. This one is embarrassing. No, I know, but this one is almost funny. You'll love it. Trust me. So I came home with this, right? And I was for sure like, I don't know. Ready to maybe swallow gas? Or like, bad air? And I realized, you know. I don't actually own a car. I don't even have a gas oven. I thought maybe, you know, I could suck gas out of the oven with the tube, like Who's Afraid of Viginia Woolf. No, no, yeah. Definitely my fault. Sorry. Oh, is that a ring? You're married? That's so beautiful. I really love the, you know. The sacrament of marriage. It's one of the most important steps in the spiritual journey. It's closeness to God. Yeah, store credit is totally fine. Thank you so much. Tell your husband I said hi. I really hope you have a nice time at work here. I hope you keep safe in the, like, darknesses of the night. Yeah, darknesses. ------ The No Thank You he had sent was so polite. The fact that it sent you spiraling was a little embarrassing. It was a lot embarrassing. It had been the very picture of civility. Of graciousness. He had told you to not it let stop you from speaking to him still, to not let it get in the way of the friendship you had started. And to not let it ruin your confidence. “He just told me he sent it,” Faeowynn said. “I thought this could be a confidence thing. A booster.” And you kept thinking of that part. Picking it apart in your head. They had thought you had confidence? Did people think you were sure of yourself? Maybe it hadn't been apparent that you had slaved over the text like you were trying to unlock the secret formula, the equation to make everyone love you forever and to never say anything that could upset you ever again. You couldn't tell if it was mocking or not. Of course, it wasn't. Nobody was being mean to you. Nobody was trying to hurt you. Everyone was going out of their way to treat you with fucking children gloves, Jude. They were waiting for you to grow up and stop thinking of yourself as the sad, beleaguered champion of the universe. Who were you to challenge the loneliness God had judged fit for you? Maybe your cowardice was actually a blessing. Maybe it had kept you from the lowest sin. The self-pity so loathsome and cold, a hell even beneath the three ever-chomping faces of Satan that chewed on some old Roman Shakespeare guys and Judas forever. You would be in the gullet, maybe. Already chewed, where it was cold and wet and sticky forever, where the bile and the back molars nipped and crushed and burnt until you could barely remember what pleasure had been. “I'm so sorry. I really didn't think you'd take it like this.” Faeowynn wasn’t laying comfortably. She perched over you, with the Look. And you could practically feel the pregnant pause. “I knew there was a distinct possibility he’d say no. Because of his own stuff. But I thought there was also a small chance he'd go for it.” Fae had been clear, but you felt as though you had been hoodwinked. It was a feeling you tried your hardest to hold onto, to blame for your foolish openness in the face of your own terrible feelings. You wondered if this was a sex thing. If this was a humiliation thing. Had they purposefully made you become attracted to a twink to use it against you for their own amusement? It was crazy. It was absolutely something an insane person would come up with. No one was laughing at you. Your friends felt bad. But it was also because you were ugly. It was because your teeth were wrong. It was the acne that you’ve never been able to be rid of. It was the gross giant pores all over your nose and forehead. You knew this, but they would never say it. They always denied it. There was nothing more offensive to a pretty person than an ugly person realizing their ugliness. “I should never have done this, and I want to die,” you said before immediately deleting it. She didn't need to see that. You were enough as is. You saw her concerned. You had never seen a sad look on her face yet. The newness of your friendship suddenly hit you. Why had you done this? Who does this? You didn’t even know her sad face, and you think you’re gonna romance her husband? “It's great you still made new friends, right?” said Esther, and you closed out the bubble. You didn't want her in your room right then. You hated that she was right. The huge bitch. “I wanted to do this. It was my, like, decision. I hate putting you in a position like this,” you finally said. It was your decision. It was all you, and that was why you hated her and you and him. Why hadn’t anyone stopped you? Why hadn’t SWAT agents burst through your window and wrestled the phone from your hands and castrated you for good measure just to make sure nothing like this ever happened again? “You're both of our friends, and we really had a good time hanging out with you.” And it was such a perfectly nice thing to say it made you want to kill her. Why did everyone so pretty have to be so good? Why were all these horribly attractive people so fucking magnanimous in their almost united disgust for you? Why were you, an ugly weirdo, cursed to have a soul that shone so dimly, so completely darkly? Like the kind of darkness in a videogame, veined and highlighted in infrared purple so stark and so drastic that it looked cut through the fabric of reality into the nothing behind the absence that was what happened when life was sucked dry, everything dead and gone. “I can never talk to him again,” you said. “It’s an unequal balance now. I showed my hand. He knows me. All of his behavior is going to be changed, filtered. Through knowing I think he’s attractive. I am perpetually the loser. The fail dude.” “I wouldn’t have had you do this if I knew it was like this.” But she didn’t know. She didn’t know you were this crazy. “He doesn’t think like that.” And was there a snap to her voice? The sorrow was replaced by a flash of irritation on her pale face and her sleepy eyes. You couldn’t decide how you saw it. How you heard it. She stood away from you now, leaning against your bedroom door. She wanted to leave. She wanted to end this. You could always tell the desperate desire to end a conversation with you, to be saved from more crazed, sad things texted by an anchorite filled with chicken gravy. You had only met the boy once. You kept telling yourself that. No one owed your their attraction. Certainly, it would be nice. But it wasn’t bad. This happened to people every day, and just because you felt new to it, like a fucking crying babe, it didn’t mean your pain was special. It didn’t mean your pain was the worst. This was just the pain you felt right now. And it would be short, because it was only a single boy. A single boy you barely knew. “It feels very representative,” you finally said. “It’s like a metaphor for everything about my life. The objective correlative of my existence.” “What do you mean, Jude?” Maybe you’d just die. And everyone would go to your funeral and wail to God and ask why They could destroy such a beautiful and perfect person. You wanted to tell her something worse. That you wanted to keep dying for eternity. That you could never love, because you were unworthy of being considered by anyone. You were a fucking grotesquerie. And why would someone like the boy be interested in both Faeowynn and someone like you, Jude? Where was the similarity? What overlapped in the Venn diagram between you two? Had you honestly thought he’d see something in you? That he could look deep in the core of you and see something that everyone else had missed? That a twink you knew was beautiful could also be gifted with the preternatural ability to sense and see but also unlock that hidden part of you that would make you good and complete and real. A person. A man. That twink didn’t exist. That thing didn’t exist inside of you. There was nothing but blood and shit and piss in your body. Nothing deeper. Certainly nothing beautiful. “I think some people are meant to be sad, and that it’s okay to stop hoping. I think this all means that I’m one of those people.” A pause. You tapped at your phone. Your fingers were wet with sweat. The air around was buzzed and anxious. You didn’t know why only your fingers were sweating. “Shut up. You’re not meant to be sad.” And she said that with the Look emblazoned on her face. You didn’t even need to see her to know that. Sometimes the Look could dip between the vast gulf of technology and cross over to you without interruption. But wasn’t this one flecked with more disappointment than usual? Was she sad and mad her new friend was revealed to be insane? “I wouldn’t have told you to do this if I realized this is how you’d feel.” You wondered how to fix this. “I can never speak to him again.” “He wants to be your friend, Jude. We're still your friends.” You could see something plaintive in her eyes. There was honesty in her face. A desperation for you to believe her. You couldn’t. How could anyone still want to be around you? And you tapped your screen in a frenzy. The words were a lot. But it felt incredibly good to type them. It felt beautiful and real. This was the way to act. This was definitely normal. This was what his brain needed. You would save her, him, and yourself in one swift cut. “I think I might like. I don’t know try to hang back for a while. I think I should probably set like both your accounts to mute, or something. I sort of wanted to delete his number for now. I don't know. That seems too much. But I honestly just don’t see the next time I’ll ever be able to text him.” And you can't face her. You feel ashamed and naked and vulnerable, and she was so nice and giving and tried to make you feel better. And all you did was say extremely sad things. All you did was want and need and hunger. This would be good. This would be doing her a favor. This is something she'll appreciate. “I don't know when I can face the both of you ever again.” Faeowynn didn't respond for the longest time, so you placed the phone on your nightstand. She wasn’t there. The lanky girl with the bug tattoos and the exciting social life you hungered for had never really been there. Your room was small, and your bed lonely. It smelled like you so strongly that you were certain you could clone at least six hundred of you just from the fumes. You wondered what it was like to choose happiness out of every possibility. You wondered what it would be like to be something closer to normal, a man who could take disappointment without completely unraveling. You regretted having sent the text. All of them. But you couldn’t undo anything like that. It had already been sent, buzzing and spinning electrons flying through the air like spores. And the spores carried nothing but your bullshit. Your sorrow and your self-loathing. Your need toward martyrdom. You wished you had never owned a phone. You wished you had been born with a tumor like a rock in your brain. Like a boulder, and as you aged, it grew and grew with you. It took over what you were. Grey, spreading flesh replacing pink wrinkles. And maybe, the you that was the tumor, the tumor that was the life made from you, maybe it would have been a better guy. Maybe it would've treated friends better. You stared at the ceiling and saw shapes in the dimness. Men and women and faces and figures and dreams, and they whispered. They spoke of intimacies you would never achieve, connections that made everything you felt with anyone fade away to dust. The force of the difference, the contrast between the things you felt and experienced and theirs, was a physical pain. It was a lump in your chest. It could have been bronchitis. You had been smoking more than you ever had. As you tried to force sleep, you watched the softly shaking shapes. The dim buzz. The whorls of flesh and shadow and life that you saw in the crenulations and ridges of the cheap popcorn ceiling above you. Flickering to life behind the blur of the overhead fan. As you watched them, you could almost see their joys and their triumphs, as alien to you as lust to a prokaryote. You reached out to the ceiling from your bed. Your fingertips ached for the world above you. The gentler place that would receive you, maybe. That could show you what it meant to exist as a human with love and passion. But you just touched the fuzzy darkness. There was nothing above you but ceiling. There was no secret emotional world of warmth and light that would receive you, just hanging above. You touched yourself. There was no warmth there. ------ Hi! It's great that we keep seeing each other. It's fun, don't you think? Those small friends you meet throughout your life. Yeah, like a small friend. A quick friend. Of course. I'd like to take back this toaster. It didn't carry a charge, actually. Okay, yes. It is definitely very wet, but let me explain. No, no, when I plugged it in, it didn't work right away. But I still ended up going in the bath with it, because I thought maybe it was a subtle electricity or something? I couldn't tell you why. It didn't work, as you can see. Yeah, my hair's still wet. Oh, I totally get that. But do you think you could maybe give me, like, the homey price on this? Like, when you buy drugs from— No, I don't want drugs. I mean, could you help me out on this one? No, no, that's fine. I'm a communist. I totally understand. Fuck the bosses, right? I can't leave it here, right? I think I'll just toss it. It was a bad idea, anyway. It's actually great it didn't work. I started thinking the other day, like. What if there was a version of me happy when I was asleep? What if the, what if the dreams I don't remember are good? And if I killed myself, the thing that was feeling joy, the only smallest sliver of my conscious being that was able to breathe and feel calm in its own life, would be killed, too. Sorry, yeah. I guess that's sort of weird to say. I didn't mean to freak you out. Well, thank you. Please, have a wonderful night. And when you sleep, I hope there’s more of you happy than a sliver. You, too. ------ You stared at your phone as though you could will away everything weird you had ever said or thought. No amount of effort had channeled your powers into such an effort. You had tried to do that since you were young. You had always regretted so much. The concept of living a life without regrets seemed like a joke to you. It seemed like something someone made up to cover up the fact that they lived a horrific unexamined existence. A person without regrets would have to have been a person who didn’t think about thinking. Maybe a P-zombie or something like that. But Faeowynn probably didn't have a lot of regrets. Esther and JJ and the rest of your friends seemed to exist in that same space. Were they P-zombies? Were they lesser? Because they weren't consumed by a cringing disgust and sorrow at ever having had emotions? “Are you okay, Jude?” asked Esther. The most recent text in a series of small, probing questions to see if you had actually finally done it. You wondered if she thought you killed yourself. If anyone were to kill themselves over something so small, you figured it would be you. “I am okay. I am the strongest big boy in the universe, and I have not been saying incredibly upsetting things to everyone I know all night.” “You fill me with constant feelings of motherly pride.” And you could almost feel her hand on your shoulder. That sad look in her eyes. “I told Fae I probably shouldn’t be friends with either of them for a while.” “Ouch.” “And that I was gonna, like, block their numbers for a bit.” You wanted her to tell you that was the normal choice. That it was an adult’s decision. That trying your hardest to stay away from any kind of pain whatsoever was going to make everything better. That existing in a world without pressure was the best thing for you. “I don’t know. I said a lot of things to her.” “How are you going to take that one back?” she said instead. “The Jude Kriyot Special.” “You’re going to cry?” And you laughed. It was hard not to laugh at that. Tears streamed down your face. You gasped for breath before rolling out of bed. At some point, you had fallen asleep. But it was still night. “A really good apology. Like serious kind.” “Try not to self-flagellate too much when you do, Saint Jude. Not everyone finds your Catholicism charming.” And then she was gone. But that was okay. Outside, there was no sound. There was no one moving around. You stood at the window and stared out into the street. The lamplights bathed everything in a dull orange that tasted like that perfect artificial fruit, the popsicle, the Starburst. You pressed your forehead against the window, and it was not as cold as you would have liked. Outside, in the orangey darkness, there were two deer. They grazed in a yard a few houses down along the left side of the street. You couldn’t tell the genders. Maybe they were both girls. Maybe they were young. They were frightened things, and it was obvious in their movement. Night was the safest time for them, but still, their healthy fear of humans kept them anxious. Kept every synapse in their body ready to snap to attention. Their movement was stiltlike. They walked as though their legs were too fragile and dear to hold up their bodies. You watched them graze, their dainty necks lowering to the grass and back up again like one of those toy bobbing birds with the water cup and the top hat. “I’m really sorry I said that. I slept on it. That’s a stupid thing to do,” you finally said to Faeowynn. She didn’t answer, but that was okay. No one lived in your phone. You looked back out to the deer, but they had moved on when you looked down. You breathed on the glass, hot stank breath becoming the thinnest layer of water. Droplets arrayed like a litebrite. With your finger, you wrote the boy’s name. You stared at it for a very long time. Even with your cramped handwriting, all jagged cursive with loops that never closed right, his name looked beautiful. You knew she would probably forgive you. You knew that you would feel horrible interacting with the boy for a while. You knew that these things were easy for everyone else. But they were hard for you. But you knew you made friends. You had a lot of friends, mostly. You knew people. But you were never the close friend. Never the one invited to the private chats or the weddings or the small birthday parties. People had never seen you that way, and you decided that it was okay. No one needed to love you. It was all going to be okay. Things would be over one day. As you waited for the text, you opened your window. The night carried a breeze that surprised you. But still, you stuck your head through your second story apartment window. And you opened your mouth. And you screamed. A single, reverberating Fuck. A vast expletive. It was louder than you meant. A deer you hadn’t noticed, startled, scampered from the backyard next door. You watched as it ran, lithe and graceful, away from you. Your phone made a noise. You looked down and saw it was Faeowynn. There were no stars in the sky. It was dark and blue and wide. A street light flickered and turned off. The deer didn’t come back. ------ Oh gosh, hey! It’s so funny to see you here. How’s your night been? Honestly, mine’s been horrible. But I think it’s okay now, you know. I didn’t fix anything. And I’m still lonely. And I want to die. But I don’t know. Do you ever think it’s okay to be the saddest guy? Do you think maybe the people you think are complete feel just as bad as you do? It’s what I have to keep telling myself, I guess. We’re all sad, and we all want to die. But guess what? No, it’s fine. You don’t really have to guess. What I mean is, if we’re lucky, when we die, we all get to rest in nothing. We are all equal in oblivion. We are all united in that. Isn’t that funny? Oh yeah, I just wanna get these chicken pot pies and these Diet Pepsis with my store credit. Here’s the card. Oh wow, super easy. Quick. You’re so fast at this. Thank you so much, ma’am. Honestly. Thank you. I just want you to know, wait. Actually. Can I use the pen? Here’s my number. If you ever need anything, I want you to call me. If you ever need help, I’m here. No, keep it. Please. I owe you so much. Sleep well tonight when you come home. Tell your children you love them. Kiss your husband. Thank you. You, too. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=kinchtheknifeblade]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-24T18:03:00	[ "_licensebox", "esther-kogan", "faeowynn-wilson", "jude-kriyot", "tale" ]	Red Plague Rid You for Learning Me Your Language - SCP Foundation	71	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1448613650	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/red-plague-rid-you-for-learning-me-your-language
red-right-hand-orientation	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">To: Systems Engineer - Day 6</span></p> <p>"Which d'you– The shifty guy who met with Jefferson yesterday? Could be anyone. He supports some programs on Site-12 that I'm not good for. Real spooky shit up there, like if Fort Meade made you pull out your pacemaker before heading inside. Trust me, people act like upping clearances is an opportunity, but you're better off keeping your head down when they shop for new support.</p> <p>Did that guy slap your sister or what? Hell, if he was that creepy, maybe you brushed past a ghost from Alpha-1 on your first week here.</p> <p>Nah, nah, you're not supposed to know about it, they're just stories people trade in the canteen. <em>Of course</em> the big guys upstairs have a private wetwork division. Because we all signed up to work for certified supervillains, right? And obviously they're 'capital A dash 1' because calling them Team 007 would be too corny. Why not cloned super soldiers while we're at it, or maybe some special forces badasses who got brainwashed. Ha!</p> <p>Just imagine folks troubleshooting an alien computer when you hear 'mobile task force' and you'll be right 99% of the time."</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">To: Senior Systems Engineer - Day 812</span></p> <p>"It was called Foundation Internal Security for most of the Cold War. We had leaks the way everybody else did, so we had counterintelligence too. Scarily good from what I heard. But you can only hunt spies for so long before finding them everywhere, especially when somebody in our line of work can flip after glimpsing the wrong symbol. One day they just… snapped. Confined all Foundation leadership to their quarters and stopped letting people in or out 'for safety.'</p> <p>When the first Overseer Council—provisional, you know—finally forced their way inside, all those leaders were long since dead. FIS had spent months picking bits off them for biometric scans. Fingerprints and eyeballs were the first to go. Then whole hands for the palm print, bits of tissue for DNA, bone marrow, god knows what else for god knows why. Where do you think they got 'Red Right Hand' from? It would have been cleaner if wild dogs ate them instead.</p> <p>What's a new batch of leadership to do with a cadre of highly trained, highly motivated psychopaths who were raised on cat and mouse games? Bring them to heel by any means necessary of course. I heard they went with implanted explosives and a whole buffet of medication before setting their killers loose again. Some say they're even roaming the halls of sites just like this one…</p> <p>Not spooky enough? Then what's <em>your</em> story about them?"</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">To: APHID ANODYNE Program Manager - Day 1834</span></p> <p>"I hate to burst your bubble, but Alpha-1 does exist today, albeit in a much more boring shape. I used to walk past their liaison office in Site-03 every day when the MITHSIP was still housed there. Saw people duck in and out too: the normal kind, save for some jittery types. Weirdness is a given from anyone who spends long enough in these hallowed halls though. We should all be so lucky.</p> <p>No, look, from one PM to another, I would be very, very careful mentioning anything that extrajudicial. We <em>do</em> have our own courts these days. Looking for the big pattern is tempting when so much seems left to chance without it, but sometimes an accident is just an accident. As far as I can tell, Alpha-1 is 30% analysts, 60% admin, and maybe 10% personal security for Overseers. Calling them an MTF just funnels money where it needs to go—without that, you get tangled up in pay codes, and location differentials, and all the other nonsense that eats our time already.</p> <p>I wouldn't say idealistic. Hopeful that we turned the corner on giving everyone a gun, maybe. There are already too many incentives for less scrupulous types to carve out fiefdoms of their own. Present company excluded."</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">To: Assistant Director for Research and Development (North America) - Day 3283</span></p> <p>"Everybody not read into TITAN STAR EXCESSIVE and the THRUSH HUNT suite will need to step outside for this portion of the briefing. My roster indicates I should have three… yes, good.</p> <p>Next chart. Here we have our ranking of issues hindering the regional director apparatus. At the top is Mobile Task Force Alpha-1, which has progressively shifted its attributed and deniable operations into an expansive set of black silos. On this next chart, we diagram how their computing systems tap into key nodes of otherwise secure Foundation networks. On <em>this</em> chart, we diagram what is known about their financial streams, which are several orders of magnitude larger than listed in even classified budgets. <em>Here</em> we see how they enjoy unusual levels of access to classified programs, logistics networks, and other Foundation assets, all of which facilitate interference in normal operations.</p> <p>This state of affairs is enabled by their close proximity to the Overseer Council. Our office sees this as a unique conflict of interest, especially in matters where neither party is incentivized to report corruption to the Ethics Committee, but no remediations have been adopted. Uncomfortable patterns of violence accompany these activities that cannot be ignored and, as of now, cannot be acted upon without serious repercussions.</p> <p>Now, if the two of you could step outside as well? Only the Regional Director is cleared for this portion. Moving to next steps–"</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">To: Regional Director (North America) - Day 6109</span></p> <p>"I am afraid the Overseer is currently occupied, sir.</p> <p>She has been informed, sir.</p> <p>Will all due respect, the Overseer fully understands the gravity of the situation, sir.</p> <p>More so than me, yessir.</p> <p>I am choosing to not acknowledge that as a threat, sir. The Overseer wouldn't appreciate hearing about it. Might suggest you're attempting to countermand her orders… sir.</p> <p>Sir, the sun burning out this very moment would not get you inside. Coalition satellites could be dropping out of orbit, giants could rise from Mt. Rushmore, and every ocean could drain through a pulled plug, but you would still be waiting out here. You can start breaking my fingers if you'd like to try speeding the process along though. What about using my knife? My sidearm? Just put the muzzle right here, your finger goes there, and pull–</p> <p>You have a good day too, sir."</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">To: Overseer-13 - Day 8946</span></p> <p>"Thank you for humoring me this evening, Thirteen. Our colleagues are so busy even without– Cassowary, could you fetch us some tea? Something with honey for me, much appreciated.</p> <p>A rather obvious ruse, isn't it? She will understand the request at its heart though, which also touches on the matter we must discuss. I understand you objected to receiving an Alpha-1 detail after being sworn in, but eschewing it simply isn't feasible in this day and age.</p> <p>Oh, yes, a pack of monsters indeed. Such flair. We shape them in our image, and they shape us in theirs. Or perhaps we are all molded by inherited strictures while thinking ourselves free of the past. Regardless, we operate within a complex system despite sitting at its top, and you will find it quite difficult to neglect this facet.</p> <p>Consider how one might request information about our most dearly hoarded secrets. The GOM/CINCH/SEEK package you were briefed on yesterday, for instance; weapons that cannot be unmade and cannot be ignored as a result. Perhaps by submitting a FD-105 to RAISA? Such programs are outside their scope, with not a single person properly accessed. Seeking a point of contact via other means? None exist. Hunting down an unmarked room in a backwater site by yourself, walking from floor, to floor, to floor in those uncomfortable shoes? The door would never open even if found.</p> <p>But our wretched little monsters know how. They are not everywhere in the manner of some rumors, but they <em>are</em> where it matters, and their thumbs rest on every vital pulse. Documents can be on your desk by the next morning. Secure transport? It will appear without even a phone call. With consent of the council, they remove all manner of… obstacles to policies that truly matter, and do so by any means necessary.</p> <p>They love us in their own fashion, after all. Ours is a nest ready to harbor any number of maladjusted chicks who cannot survive in today's careful, conscientious Foundation. We <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5920">poison their minds</a> in a play for control. They <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4470">remake our bodies</a> in turn. We share traumas too, having stripped away names, families, personal comforts… always for the greater good of course, but such is the onus of this office. Their skills are specific and our needs are many. If nothing else, rest assured that your grave will never be lonely with so many attendants in tow.</p> <p>Ah, Cassowary, thank you. Do you see my dozens of lovely pills, Thirteen? My mountain of mandatory reading? You have adopted these eager fledglings in your rise, like it or not, and we all expect you to nurture them in earnest."</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/red-right-hand-orientation">Red Right Hand Orientation</a>" by Pedantique, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/red-right-hand-orientation">https://scpwiki.com/red-right-hand-orientation</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] = __To: Systems Engineer - Day 6__ "Which d'you– The shifty guy who met with Jefferson yesterday? Could be anyone. He supports some programs on Site-12 that I'm not good for. Real spooky shit up there, like if Fort Meade made you pull out your pacemaker before heading inside. Trust me, people act like upping clearances is an opportunity, but you're better off keeping your head down when they shop for new support. Did that guy slap your sister or what? Hell, if he was that creepy, maybe you brushed past a ghost from Alpha-1 on your first week here. Nah, nah, you're not supposed to know about it, they're just stories people trade in the canteen. //Of course// the big guys upstairs have a private wetwork division. Because we all signed up to work for certified supervillains, right? And obviously they're 'capital A dash 1' because calling them Team 007 would be too corny. Why not cloned super soldiers while we're at it, or maybe some special forces badasses who got brainwashed. Ha! Just imagine folks troubleshooting an alien computer when you hear 'mobile task force' and you'll be right 99% of the time." ----- = __To: Senior Systems Engineer - Day 812__ "It was called Foundation Internal Security for most of the Cold War. We had leaks the way everybody else did, so we had counterintelligence too. Scarily good from what I heard. But you can only hunt spies for so long before finding them everywhere, especially when somebody in our line of work can flip after glimpsing the wrong symbol. One day they just... snapped. Confined all Foundation leadership to their quarters and stopped letting people in or out 'for safety.' When the first Overseer Council—provisional, you know—finally forced their way inside, all those leaders were long since dead. FIS had spent months picking bits off them for biometric scans. Fingerprints and eyeballs were the first to go. Then whole hands for the palm print, bits of tissue for DNA, bone marrow, god knows what else for god knows why. Where do you think they got 'Red Right Hand' from? It would have been cleaner if wild dogs ate them instead. What's a new batch of leadership to do with a cadre of highly trained, highly motivated psychopaths who were raised on cat and mouse games? Bring them to heel by any means necessary of course. I heard they went with implanted explosives and a whole buffet of medication before setting their killers loose again. Some say they're even roaming the halls of sites just like this one... Not spooky enough? Then what's //your// story about them?" ----- = __To: APHID ANODYNE Program Manager - Day 1834__ "I hate to burst your bubble, but Alpha-1 does exist today, albeit in a much more boring shape. I used to walk past their liaison office in Site-03 every day when the MITHSIP was still housed there. Saw people duck in and out too: the normal kind, save for some jittery types. Weirdness is a given from anyone who spends long enough in these hallowed halls though. We should all be so lucky. No, look, from one PM to another, I would be very, very careful mentioning anything that extrajudicial. We //do// have our own courts these days. Looking for the big pattern is tempting when so much seems left to chance without it, but sometimes an accident is just an accident. As far as I can tell, Alpha-1 is 30% analysts, 60% admin, and maybe 10% personal security for Overseers. Calling them an MTF just funnels money where it needs to go—without that, you get tangled up in pay codes, and location differentials, and all the other nonsense that eats our time already. I wouldn't say idealistic. Hopeful that we turned the corner on giving everyone a gun, maybe. There are already too many incentives for less scrupulous types to carve out fiefdoms of their own. Present company excluded." ----- = __To: Assistant Director for Research and Development (North America) - Day 3283__ "Everybody not read into TITAN STAR EXCESSIVE and the THRUSH HUNT suite will need to step outside for this portion of the briefing. My roster indicates I should have three... yes, good. Next chart. Here we have our ranking of issues hindering the regional director apparatus. At the top is Mobile Task Force Alpha-1, which has progressively shifted its attributed and deniable operations into an expansive set of black silos. On this next chart, we diagram how their computing systems tap into key nodes of otherwise secure Foundation networks. On //this// chart, we diagram what is known about their financial streams, which are several orders of magnitude larger than listed in even classified budgets. //Here// we see how they enjoy unusual levels of access to classified programs, logistics networks, and other Foundation assets, all of which facilitate interference in normal operations. This state of affairs is enabled by their close proximity to the Overseer Council. Our office sees this as a unique conflict of interest, especially in matters where neither party is incentivized to report corruption to the Ethics Committee, but no remediations have been adopted. Uncomfortable patterns of violence accompany these activities that cannot be ignored and, as of now, cannot be acted upon without serious repercussions. Now, if the two of you could step outside as well? Only the Regional Director is cleared for this portion. Moving to next steps–" ----- = __To: Regional Director (North America) - Day 6109__ "I am afraid the Overseer is currently occupied, sir. She has been informed, sir. Will all due respect, the Overseer fully understands the gravity of the situation, sir. More so than me, yessir. I am choosing to not acknowledge that as a threat, sir. The Overseer wouldn't appreciate hearing about it. Might suggest you're attempting to countermand her orders... sir. Sir, the sun burning out this very moment would not get you inside. Coalition satellites could be dropping out of orbit, giants could rise from Mt. Rushmore, and every ocean could drain through a pulled plug, but you would still be waiting out here. You can start breaking my fingers if you'd like to try speeding the process along though. What about using my knife? My sidearm? Just put the muzzle right here, your finger goes there, and pull– You have a good day too, sir." ----- = __To: Overseer-13 - Day 8946__ "Thank you for humoring me this evening, Thirteen. Our colleagues are so busy even without– Cassowary, could you fetch us some tea? Something with honey for me, much appreciated. A rather obvious ruse, isn't it? She will understand the request at its heart though, which also touches on the matter we must discuss. I understand you objected to receiving an Alpha-1 detail after being sworn in, but eschewing it simply isn't feasible in this day and age. Oh, yes, a pack of monsters indeed. Such flair. We shape them in our image, and they shape us in theirs. Or perhaps we are all molded by inherited strictures while thinking ourselves free of the past. Regardless, we operate within a complex system despite sitting at its top, and you will find it quite difficult to neglect this facet. Consider how one might request information about our most dearly hoarded secrets. The GOM/CINCH/SEEK package you were briefed on yesterday, for instance; weapons that cannot be unmade and cannot be ignored as a result. Perhaps by submitting a FD-105 to RAISA? Such programs are outside their scope, with not a single person properly accessed. Seeking a point of contact via other means? None exist. Hunting down an unmarked room in a backwater site by yourself, walking from floor, to floor, to floor in those uncomfortable shoes? The door would never open even if found. But our wretched little monsters know how. They are not everywhere in the manner of some rumors, but they //are// where it matters, and their thumbs rest on every vital pulse. Documents can be on your desk by the next morning. Secure transport? It will appear without even a phone call. With consent of the council, they remove all manner of... obstacles to policies that truly matter, and do so by any means necessary. They love us in their own fashion, after all. Ours is a nest ready to harbor any number of maladjusted chicks who cannot survive in today's careful, conscientious Foundation. We [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5920 poison their minds] in a play for control. They [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4470 remake our bodies] in turn. We share traumas too, having stripped away names, families, personal comforts... always for the greater good of course, but such is the onus of this office. Their skills are specific and our needs are many. If nothing else, rest assured that your grave will never be lonely with so many attendants in tow. Ah, Cassowary, thank you. Do you see my dozens of lovely pills, Thirteen? My mountain of mandatory reading? You have adopted these eager fledglings in your rise, like it or not, and we all expect you to nurture them in earnest." [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Pedantique]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-13T22:57:00	[ "_licensebox", "orientation", "tale" ]	Red Right Hand Orientation - SCP Foundation	46	[ "scp-5920", "scp-4470", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1450639932	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/red-right-hand-orientation
reeling-in-the-crocosquid	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Awar-on-all-fronts-sigma/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="/stormbreath">stormbreath</a></p> </div> <p>What do you want to do with your life?</p> <p>It isn't really the easiest question to answer. The inverse is fine enough — everyone can name a litany of things they don't want to do with their life. For August Jorel, that was a simple answer: not the Foundation.</p> <p>He's sitting on a small boat, as it crashes through stormy and grey waters. It's beating down horrid rain outside, water on all the windows. It was not a great voyage, but it was a necessary one. The angler at the back of the ship, the one who never took off his hat, was one of the Tuatha de Danaan — the fair folk. Only he can reach their destination, and if you pay him enough, he'll take you along with him.</p> <p>All of this had been clearly laid by the Foundation fixer. Leaving the Foundation isn't easy, even if you know where to look and what to do. (Well, if you wanted to keep your memories intact, which was essential for August.) August didn't have a clue where to begin, but he needed out, so he found someone who did. Somebody willing to look the other way, get him on a transfer to the right Site where he could walk away and get on a boat and make it to Hy-Brasil.</p> <p>Hy-Brasil. A mythical, fairy island off the coast of Ireland. It had been devastated a few decades back, by something that hadn't been especially clear to August. The fixer had only alluded to "the incident". August doesn't care — as long as it is livable, and free from the Foundation, it's good enough for him.</p> <p>August lays back in the seat. They still have another hour or two to go. He turns his head to the window, and tries to answer the question, but only succeeds in drifting off to sleep.</p> <div class="dreams"> <p>there is someone else here in the dream</p> <p>hello? who's there?</p> <p>the presence doesn't respond there's tension</p> <p>he tries to look around he doesn't see anything there's just darkness, all around him just like <a href="/scp-7256">SCP-7256</a> could he be trapped again he wonders so he looks down but sees nothing - there was light back there but this time theres nothing not even the door that let him out and return to the world</p> <p>no, he's dreaming, he can tell the difference well years - or however long it was - in a space like 7256 leaves you able to tell reality apart from the rest so this is a dream but he doesn't think it's his</p> <p>then who?</p> <p>show yourself!</p> <p>no response.</p> <p>then — a presence, a stir and</p> <p>LEAVE ME ALONE</p> <p>whatever he is dreaming with is large. great. she (how does he know that?) is not a force to be reckoned with lightly</p> <p>the dream shatters around him and he wakes with a jolt</p> </div> <p>The immediate concerns have been dealt with. King Delbáeth was sympathetic to the cause of a Foundation defector, just like the fixer had told him he would be. Especially one who hadn’t gotten up to much of anything during his time in the Foundation.</p> <p>He was fortunate to not expect the Foundation to chase him here. The Site Director of the island's facility (a facility he had not known existed before today) was at the hearing for asylum. His heart had dropped when he walked into the throne room and saw her perched at the side of the King, only for her to abruptly leave when he recounted his story. Delbáeth had told him she would have only cared had he done something truly grave; a run of the mill defector like him wasn’t worth her time.</p> <p>Arrangements had been made for a place for him to stay for a few weeks. He'd need to find something else — get a job, get an apartment, figure himself out — but at least for the next few hours August was safe. Free from the Foundation.</p> <p>He looks up.</p> <p>It seems like he had absent mindedly wandered after leaving the palace, and found himself in what appeared to be a memorial. Several massive cairns surround him, each burning with their own flame. They're all made of unusual materials: jade, gold, a black metal he didn’t recognize. He's alone, except for one old man in the middle, inspecting a blue cairn.</p> <p>August turns around. The cairn garden stretches on for a while, rows upon rows of cairns. What exactly they were a memorial for is unclear to him — there are no names on any of the cairns, and he hadn't really been paying attention on his way in. Should he be here? Is he allowed to be here? Nobody had stopped him, so … he turns a corner and the old man is there again.</p> <p>Turn back, keep going straight. Avoid the other guy. August gets one cairn across before the old man is in front of him again. The guy is old, difficult to tell by how much. Human, which has to be noted on this island. Tall — taller than August, at least. Big white beard. Ripped like hell — is he old or not? Simple outfit, nothing but a black t-shirt.</p> <p>"You there! Stop running!"</p> <p>Russian accent.</p> <p>He's approaching.</p> <p>"You! Are an outsider. You're not one of Danu's people. American, if I had to guess. Not Foundation, you're too skittish for that. What is your deal?"</p> <p>"I, uh, I actually am Foundation as it happens-"</p> <p>"No, you are not. I know the type."</p> <p>"Um. Well."</p> <p>"Ex-Foundation, maybe. I can see it in you."</p> <p>The old man is squinting at August, scanning him up and down. After a few moments of eye contact, he reaches out a hand.</p> <p>"Ah, I'm impolite. The name is Stanislav Nikolaev, д.б.н., former member of the Main Intelligence Directorate, Psychotronics Division, former Director of Bioengineering for Prometheus Laboratories. Retired, for the last few years, and on my own."</p> <p>August tentatively shakes the hand.</p> <p>"August Jorel. Former Foundation. Botanicals."</p> <p>"Ah-ha! We share a research category. I never got much into the plants, though. I was always more concerned with anatomy."</p> <p>Stanislav lifts one arm up and flexes the bicep. His veins flash with light, a dim red glow. He turns back to August and smiles a wide grin. His teeth are not human.</p> <p>"I'm uh, really sorry but I'm in a bit of a rush and-"</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"Sorry?"</p> <p>"You're not in a rush. Listen, kid. Do you know how many outsiders like us there are on the island?"</p> <p>"No…?"</p> <p>"Three dozen. Total. Three dozen outsiders who aren't of the fair folk or the Foundation. We're a small bunch. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other, because you don't strike me as the type to click with the fair folk, and you're certainly not going to slum it with your former employer."</p> <p>"I guess."</p> <p>"You even speak Irish?"</p> <p>"A little but-"</p> <p>Stanislav laughs.</p> <p>"Kid, you don't even know what's going on. Here, look: I'll hire you for the next few weeks as a personal assistant. Nobody else on the island will take you for shit, but me? I'm lonely and want company."</p> <p>"Um. Can I take a moment to think about it?"</p> <p>"Sure. But let's do it somewhere else. You don't know where we are right now, don't you?"</p> <p>"No…?"</p> <p>"This, right here, is a memorial to the attack of a giant monster. Godzilla-like. She was beautiful, massive. And you're not treating the space respectfully."</p> <div class="dreams"> <p>the dream that night is the same as the one from earlier in the day on the boat but this time august can make out some more of the other presence and has a better sense for what she is and who she is and he can see her she reminds him of</p> <p>wait a minute no she does not remind him of she is the monster from earlier the kraken the one from the memorial the one that stanislav talked about for hours upon hours after</p> <p>ARE YOU FINISHED</p> <p>sorry</p> <p>I WAS RESTING</p> <p>what are you i'm sorry i don't want to be a bother but i keep ending up here in this space and i don't know where i am or what is happening to me</p> <p><strong>I'M THE CROCOSQUID</strong></p> <p>A FRAGMENT OF HER, AT LEAST. A PIECE OF A PIECE, BLOWN CLEAR BY THE ONEIROI WEST'S POWER. LEFT ME IN THE END AND HERE I AM, DECADES LATER</p> <p>oh wow that's really something august says and then he looks down at the crocosquid she's blasted in half and only part of her remains its really something how much has been removed from her only a skeleton and some of her spirit clinging to her</p> <p>THAT'S VERY RUDE, YOU KNOW</p> <p>sorry</p> <p>i think i might be going now okay</p> <p>DO YOU THINK YOU'LL BE BACK?</p> <p>i don't know maybe a part of me hopes so because wow you are fascinating and this is really interesting and i'd love to</p> <p>LOVELY</p> <p>BUT I SUPPOSE, IF YOU ARE GOING TO COME BACK AGAIN AND AGAIN WE MIGHT AS WELL GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER. I'LL GO FIRST.</p> <p>WAVES CRASH AROUND AND SURGE AND FLOW AND BREAK AND BREACH AND SWIM AND SING. SHE CURVES THROUGH THE WATER AND TWISTS AND TURNS IN A GREAT SPIRAL, TENTACLES AND ARMS PULSING. SHE IS BEAUTIFUL IN THIS LIGHT AND IN EVERY LIGHT. SHE IS NOT JUST THE KRAKEN BUT ALSO THE GODDESS AND ALSO THE WOMAN AND ALSO THE DREAM AND THE NIGHTMARE AND THE GIRL ON THE INTERNET BEHIND THE COMPUTERS ALL AT ONCE AND THROUGHOUT TIME</p> <p>august is a man, molded by a gray force. four arrows pointing in at him at his very heart — three for his former employers and one that has just hit and is bleeding right now — is that a heart on the end?</p> </div> <p>"What do you do for fun, then?"</p> <p>"Movies."</p> <p>Stanislav flicks a peanut at August. The old man is not somebody August ever pictured being friends with. An ex-Soviet mad scientist, just over ninety years old. He looks younger — the treatments and research he had pioneered at Prometheus had kept him young for far longer than a normal man. That was where he had made the money that he had alluded to when they first met — research documents pilfered from a Prometheus Labs installation that, according to Stanislav, had literally been burning down at the time.</p> <p>"<em>Everyone</em> watches movies. If your passion is movies, you can say more about it than the one word answer."</p> <p>"Movie nights. Used to hold them at the Foundation base-"</p> <p>"Ah-ha! They must have loved that!"</p> <p>"They didn't-"</p> <p>Another peanut, right between the eyes.</p> <p>Right. That was sarcasm. August briefly rubs the spot where the peanut collided, then returns to the story.</p> <p>"I always used to screen these bad movies. Terrible ones. The worst of the worst. Old Godzilla stuff and the like-"</p> <p>Stanislav claps and sits upright.</p> <p>"Another parallel! We're more alike than you want to admit, Jorel!"</p> <p>Stanislav hadn't always referred to August by last name, but he started during the last few days. August wasn't really sure what had started it, but it was by all indications something that Stanislav had intentionally decided to, and Stanislav tended to be very set in his ways when he decided on something.</p> <p>"I love kaiju movies, of all kinds. Showa, Heisei, Millennium, anything. Not just that Godzilla, of course. Gamera too. What's your favorite?"</p> <p>"<em>1954</em>."</p> <p>Peanut. It was freakish how good Stanislav was at aiming them.</p> <p>"You and everyone else in the world. Give me a real answer. One with some personality. <em>My</em> favorite is <em>vs. King Ghidorah</em>. I saw it in theaters on opening day, 1994. Tried to put it together what they did at the end, but they had already chopped up the crocosquid too much by then. Shame. Could have been <a href="/anastasis-hub">great</a>."</p> <p>"In theaters? Do you speak Japanese?"</p> <p>"The south half of Sakhalin, land of my birth, was under occupation of the Japanese Empire from the time of my birth until I was eleven years old. Yes, I speak Japanese. Stop dodging the question. Favorite kaiju movie."</p> <p>"Okay. Fine. I like <em>Ghidorah, the Three Headed Monster</em>. It's the one where Godzilla finally turns and becomes a good guy."</p> <p>Stanislav claps his hands together.</p> <p>"There! I knew I could choke something like that out of you."</p> <p>The waiter walks over with their drinks. Stanislav had taken a long look at the menu and ordered a specific IPA he wanted. August looked at the menu and decided to just order whatever Stanislav was having, hoping that Stanislav wouldn't yell at him for having poor taste if he did. Instead, Stanislav called him boring and a follower.</p> <p>August didn't like Stanislav very much, but there <em>really</em> wasn't anyone else to talk to on the island.</p> <p>"I think I've really always wanted to make a movie. Maybe that's what I've always wanted to do with my life — that's something meaningful, right? That's something major. Something interesting."</p> <p>"What kind of movie?"</p> <p>August looks down and took a healthy swig of the beer. He sighed.</p> <p>"I mean, I think I always wanted to do a movie like the old Godzilla movies. Maybe something cheesier, like Gamera. But there isn't the market for that anymore—"</p> <p>"—and you wouldn't have the budget."</p> <p>"No. I don't even know where to begin with it, really."</p> <p>"Documentary, then. About the crocosquid. I'd be happy to fund <em>that</em>."</p> <p>August looks up. Stanislav is staring at him dead on. He's serious. He's being serious about it. This is one of the first times that Stanislav has said something even vaguely complimentary to him — even if it was Stanislav's idea.</p> <p>"Uh. Yeah. Let's do that."</p> <div class="dreams"> <p>production on the documentary is coming along really well these last few months we've been able to interview a ton of the survivors and we even made contact with a lot of the ghosts to get their thoughts. <a href="/scp-7010">princess mor rioghan</a>, for example. queen i guess she is more accurately called I think</p> <p>WHAT ABOUT ME</p> <p>huh oh yeah right that's</p> <p>WERE YOU NOT PLANNING ON IT? I'M OFFENDED</p> <p>i mean honestly we actually were? stanislav and me at least, not all the producers really agree with us and it would be really controversial. the two of us definitely think that we should try to make it an apology for you try to exonerate you a little if thats even possible</p> <p>I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE AN APOLOGY, YOU KNOW. IF POSSIBLE. I DON'T KNOW HOW WELL IT WOULD BE RECIEVED AND I'M NOT EVEN REALLY SURE IF I AM WHO I WAS ANYMORE. THIS STATE OF BEING IS STRANGE AND I SHIFT AND FLOW BETWEEN MY ITERATIONS ONLY LOOSELY PATCHED TOGETHER BY THE THREADS OF NIGHTMARE</p> <p>but it would mean a lot if you could make that gesture. i'll talk to stanislav about it.</p> <p>he moves in closer AND SHE WRAPS HERSELF AROUND HIM and he rests in the crook of one of her arms and looks up at her he is so small SO SMALL in comparison to her and neither is sure what this is what this relationship is OR WHAT IT CAN BE but they want more from it and he'll do anything for her</p> <p>scenes from the documentary play out as they watch it together. the footage of hy-brasil as it is today. images from the attack. the aftermath. the prelude. it cycles through, in a curve around to the center and there is nothing there</p> <p>i think i was always going to have to incorporate you into it. that's the shape of it: you have to be there</p> </div> <p>To his absolute surprise, Stanislav is fully on board with the idea of using the documentary to exonerate the crocosquid and present her apologies. Stanislav has never been this excited before. He can't sit still. He's grinning ear to ear, laughing with August.</p> <p>It makes August immensely uncomfortable to see. Stanislav had always boasted to August about his past as a mad scientist, but up until now he had never really showed it off. Sure, there were the long anecdotes of his past and the various body modifications he had performed (according to him through Lysenkoism, a field that August firmly knows is bunk). But this, right here? This is mania. This is what you need to be a <em>mad</em> scientist.</p> <p>Stanislav has told August that he has, on multiple occasions, attempted to end the world by way of awakening all the sleeping monsters and unleashing them upon civilization. August can see how in this moment — he has the fury and passion to do it. August can only thank Jesus that Stanislav is directing this vision into a slightly-poor taste documentary.</p> <p>"When can she start? Your dream-lover? When can we break open that pretty little skull of yours and pull her out? How did you even get in contact with her? She's never appeared to me before. Only ever the offspring that I had to kill in '92. Why <em>you</em>?"</p> <p>August doesn't know the answer, and he isn't going to try. He is going to respond to some minor portion of Stanislav's dialogue.</p> <p>"She's not my lover. I don't think. Not officially."</p> <p>"Oh, please. You are a love struck little puppy. You're head over heels for that woman. God! I wish I was you. You don't even know what you have. You lucky son of a bitch."</p> <p>Jealousy? That's new from Stanislav. The expression and veneer of disdain that he paints everything in is familiar, though, all too well.</p> <p>"I think I might not have explained the relationship well enough-"</p> <p>"You have. This denial? Tsk, tsk. You've been hit!"</p> <p>Change the topic. Get him off this line of thought.</p> <p>"She's ready to go whenever, but I'd rather we not uh. What'd you say? Break my skull open?"</p> <p>Stanislav sighs and turns back to face the library. He throws several books off the shelf, before pulling out a single text. A small, leather bound book. No title on the face or spine.</p> <p>"Fine. Fine. I was going to put it back together, you know. I'd stitch it back better than it ever was. But if you insist… I'll grow a butterfly to sneak into your head and watch your dreams. I'll collect it in the morning, crush it up and pull a video of your conversation out. Something we can put into the documentary."</p> <p>August nods.</p> <p>"Yeah. Let's uh, go with that."</p> <div class="dreams"> <p>the debut is tomorrow MY BIG SCREEN REVEAL. I CAN'T WAIT. yeah it's going to be huge, everyone is going to be there from the island. i had the advance screening yesterday with the king and the queen and even the foundation director from the island and it went over well</p> <p>EVEN MY PARTS?</p> <p>a memory: the king watching the documentary as the dream sequence began, nodding along as it happened. a memory: the king speaking with stanislav and august after the movie, telling them how grateful he was. the movie was good, he thought. respectful. stanislav pushes on the dream. he says he had spoken to another part of the monster, and he knows there is sincerity in it.</p> <p>ANOTHER PART OF ME? THAT MUST BE — SHE REACHES THROUGH HERSELF AND TO THE GREATEST STRETCHES — AH. THE GIRL. YES, YES. SHE WOULD HAVE CONTACTED HIM, WOULDN'T SHE HAVE? the girl is unfamiliar to him but she's mentioned her before.</p> <p>i am worried about how everyone else will recieve it. we try to be as respectful as we could, and most people on the island suspect that something is in the doc along these lines but (he has already seen the protests and the discussions there are those who don't approve of this angle and wish the documentary had just been focused on the victims)</p> <p>YOU CAN'T WIN EVERYONE, DARLING. YOU DID IT FOR ME</p> <p>the dream lifts and swoons — yeah. that's what is all really about, isn't it?</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>This is my submission to <a href="/romcon">RomCon</a>, featuring August Jorel, a character by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/perdoh" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6436213); return false;"><img alt="Perdoh" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6436213&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728675422" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6436213)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/perdoh" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6436213); return false;">Perdoh</a></span>, and my own crocosquid! Be sure to check out their piece for RomCon <a href="/siren">here</a>!</strong></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:war-on-all-fronts-sigma">:scp-wiki:theme:war-on-all-fronts-sigma</a>]] [[module CSS]] .dreams { padding: 0 1em; background-color: black; color: white; position: relative; margin: 3em 0; } .dreams::before, .dreams::after { content: ' '; position: absolute; pointer-events: none; top: -3rem; right: -0rem; bottom: -3rem; left: -0rem; background-image: linear-gradient(to bottom, transparent, black); background-position: 0 1rem; background-size: 100% 2rem; background-repeat: repeat-x; } .dreams::after { transform: rotate(180deg); margin-bottom: 1px; } .dreams a {color: rgb(143 129 255);} [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[[stormbreath]]] [[/div]] What do you want to do with your life? It isn't really the easiest question to answer. The inverse is fine enough -- everyone can name a litany of things they don't want to do with their life. For August Jorel, that was a simple answer: not the Foundation. He's sitting on a small boat, as it crashes through stormy and grey waters. It's beating down horrid rain outside, water on all the windows. It was not a great voyage, but it was a necessary one. The angler at the back of the ship, the one who never took off his hat, was one of the Tuatha de Danaan -- the fair folk. Only he can reach their destination, and if you pay him enough, he'll take you along with him. All of this had been clearly laid by the Foundation fixer. Leaving the Foundation isn't easy, even if you know where to look and what to do. (Well, if you wanted to keep your memories intact, which was essential for August.) August didn't have a clue where to begin, but he needed out, so he found someone who did. Somebody willing to look the other way, get him on a transfer to the right Site where he could walk away and get on a boat and make it to Hy-Brasil. Hy-Brasil. A mythical, fairy island off the coast of Ireland. It had been devastated a few decades back, by something that hadn't been especially clear to August. The fixer had only alluded to "the incident". August doesn't care -- as long as it is livable, and free from the Foundation, it's good enough for him. August lays back in the seat. They still have another hour or two to go. He turns his head to the window, and tries to answer the question, but only succeeds in drifting off to sleep. [[div class="dreams"]] there is someone else here in the dream hello? who's there? the presence doesn't respond there's tension he tries to look around he doesn't see anything there's just darkness, all around him just like [[[SCP-7256]]] could he be trapped again he wonders so he looks down but sees nothing - there was light back there but this time theres nothing not even the door that let him out and return to the world no, he's dreaming, he can tell the difference well years - or however long it was - in a space like 7256 leaves you able to tell reality apart from the rest so this is a dream but he doesn't think it's his then who? show yourself! no response. then -- a presence, a stir and LEAVE ME ALONE whatever he is dreaming with is large. great. she (how does he know that?) is not a force to be reckoned with lightly the dream shatters around him and he wakes with a jolt [[/div]] The immediate concerns have been dealt with. King Delbáeth was sympathetic to the cause of a Foundation defector, just like the fixer had told him he would be. Especially one who hadn’t gotten up to much of anything during his time in the Foundation. He was fortunate to not expect the Foundation to chase him here. The Site Director of the island's facility (a facility he had not known existed before today) was at the hearing for asylum. His heart had dropped when he walked into the throne room and saw her perched at the side of the King, only for her to abruptly leave when he recounted his story. Delbáeth had told him she would have only cared had he done something truly grave; a run of the mill defector like him wasn’t worth her time. Arrangements had been made for a place for him to stay for a few weeks. He'd need to find something else — get a job, get an apartment, figure himself out — but at least for the next few hours August was safe. Free from the Foundation. He looks up. It seems like he had absent mindedly wandered after leaving the palace, and found himself in what appeared to be a memorial. Several massive cairns surround him, each burning with their own flame. They're all made of unusual materials: jade, gold, a black metal he didn’t recognize. He's alone, except for one old man in the middle, inspecting a blue cairn. August turns around. The cairn garden stretches on for a while, rows upon rows of cairns. What exactly they were a memorial for is unclear to him -- there are no names on any of the cairns, and he hadn't really been paying attention on his way in. Should he be here? Is he allowed to be here? Nobody had stopped him, so ... he turns a corner and the old man is there again. Turn back, keep going straight. Avoid the other guy. August gets one cairn across before the old man is in front of him again. The guy is old, difficult to tell by how much. Human, which has to be noted on this island. Tall -- taller than August, at least. Big white beard. Ripped like hell -- is he old or not? Simple outfit, nothing but a black t-shirt. "You there! Stop running!" Russian accent. He's approaching. "You! Are an outsider. You're not one of Danu's people. American, if I had to guess. Not Foundation, you're too skittish for that. What is your deal?" "I, uh, I actually am Foundation as it happens-" "No, you are not. I know the type." "Um. Well." "Ex-Foundation, maybe. I can see it in you." The old man is squinting at August, scanning him up and down. After a few moments of eye contact, he reaches out a hand. "Ah, I'm impolite. The name is Stanislav Nikolaev, д.б.н., former member of the Main Intelligence Directorate, Psychotronics Division, former Director of Bioengineering for Prometheus Laboratories. Retired, for the last few years, and on my own." August tentatively shakes the hand. "August Jorel. Former Foundation. Botanicals." "Ah-ha! We share a research category. I never got much into the plants, though. I was always more concerned with anatomy." Stanislav lifts one arm up and flexes the bicep. His veins flash with light, a dim red glow. He turns back to August and smiles a wide grin. His teeth are not human. "I'm uh, really sorry but I'm in a bit of a rush and-" "No." "Sorry?" "You're not in a rush. Listen, kid. Do you know how many outsiders like us there are on the island?" "No...?" "Three dozen. Total. Three dozen outsiders who aren't of the fair folk or the Foundation. We're a small bunch. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other, because you don't strike me as the type to click with the fair folk, and you're certainly not going to slum it with your former employer." "I guess." "You even speak Irish?" "A little but-" Stanislav laughs. "Kid, you don't even know what's going on. Here, look: I'll hire you for the next few weeks as a personal assistant. Nobody else on the island will take you for shit, but me? I'm lonely and want company." "Um. Can I take a moment to think about it?" "Sure. But let's do it somewhere else. You don't know where we are right now, don't you?" "No...?" "This, right here, is a memorial to the attack of a giant monster. Godzilla-like. She was beautiful, massive. And you're not treating the space respectfully." [[div class="dreams"]] the dream that night is the same as the one from earlier in the day on the boat but this time august can make out some more of the other presence and has a better sense for what she is and who she is and he can see her she reminds him of wait a minute no she does not remind him of she is the monster from earlier the kraken the one from the memorial the one that stanislav talked about for hours upon hours after ARE YOU FINISHED sorry I WAS RESTING what are you i'm sorry i don't want to be a bother but i keep ending up here in this space and i don't know where i am or what is happening to me I'M THE CROCOSQUID A FRAGMENT OF HER, AT LEAST. A PIECE OF A PIECE, BLOWN CLEAR BY THE ONEIROI WEST'S POWER. LEFT ME IN THE END AND HERE I AM, DECADES LATER oh wow that's really something august says and then he looks down at the crocosquid she's blasted in half and only part of her remains its really something how much has been removed from her only a skeleton and some of her spirit clinging to her THAT'S VERY RUDE, YOU KNOW sorry i think i might be going now okay DO YOU THINK YOU'LL BE BACK? i don't know maybe a part of me hopes so because wow you are fascinating and this is really interesting and i'd love to LOVELY BUT I SUPPOSE, IF YOU ARE GOING TO COME BACK AGAIN AND AGAIN WE MIGHT AS WELL GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER. I'LL GO FIRST. WAVES CRASH AROUND AND SURGE AND FLOW AND BREAK AND BREACH AND SWIM AND SING. SHE CURVES THROUGH THE WATER AND TWISTS AND TURNS IN A GREAT SPIRAL, TENTACLES AND ARMS PULSING. SHE IS BEAUTIFUL IN THIS LIGHT AND IN EVERY LIGHT. SHE IS NOT JUST THE KRAKEN BUT ALSO THE GODDESS AND ALSO THE WOMAN AND ALSO THE DREAM AND THE NIGHTMARE AND THE GIRL ON THE INTERNET BEHIND THE COMPUTERS ALL AT ONCE AND THROUGHOUT TIME august is a man, molded by a gray force. four arrows pointing in at him at his very heart -- three for his former employers and one that has just hit and is bleeding right now -- is that a heart on the end? [[/div]] "What do you do for fun, then?" "Movies." Stanislav flicks a peanut at August. The old man is not somebody August ever pictured being friends with. An ex-Soviet mad scientist, just over ninety years old. He looks younger -- the treatments and research he had pioneered at Prometheus had kept him young for far longer than a normal man. That was where he had made the money that he had alluded to when they first met -- research documents pilfered from a Prometheus Labs installation that, according to Stanislav, had literally been burning down at the time. "//Everyone// watches movies. If your passion is movies, you can say more about it than the one word answer." "Movie nights. Used to hold them at the Foundation base-" "Ah-ha! They must have loved that!" "They didn't-" Another peanut, right between the eyes. Right. That was sarcasm. August briefly rubs the spot where the peanut collided, then returns to the story. "I always used to screen these bad movies. Terrible ones. The worst of the worst. Old Godzilla stuff and the like-" Stanislav claps and sits upright. "Another parallel! We're more alike than you want to admit, Jorel!" Stanislav hadn't always referred to August by last name, but he started during the last few days. August wasn't really sure what had started it, but it was by all indications something that Stanislav had intentionally decided to, and Stanislav tended to be very set in his ways when he decided on something. "I love kaiju movies, of all kinds. Showa, Heisei, Millennium, anything. Not just that Godzilla, of course. Gamera too. What's your favorite?" "//1954//." Peanut. It was freakish how good Stanislav was at aiming them. "You and everyone else in the world. Give me a real answer. One with some personality. //My// favorite is //vs. King Ghidorah//. I saw it in theaters on opening day, 1994. Tried to put it together what they did at the end, but they had already chopped up the crocosquid too much by then. Shame. Could have been [[[anastasis-hub\|great]]]." "In theaters? Do you speak Japanese?" "The south half of Sakhalin, land of my birth, was under occupation of the Japanese Empire from the time of my birth until I was eleven years old. Yes, I speak Japanese. Stop dodging the question. Favorite kaiju movie." "Okay. Fine. I like //Ghidorah, the Three Headed Monster//. It's the one where Godzilla finally turns and becomes a good guy." Stanislav claps his hands together. "There! I knew I could choke something like that out of you." The waiter walks over with their drinks. Stanislav had taken a long look at the menu and ordered a specific IPA he wanted. August looked at the menu and decided to just order whatever Stanislav was having, hoping that Stanislav wouldn't yell at him for having poor taste if he did. Instead, Stanislav called him boring and a follower. August didn't like Stanislav very much, but there //really// wasn't anyone else to talk to on the island. "I think I've really always wanted to make a movie. Maybe that's what I've always wanted to do with my life -- that's something meaningful, right? That's something major. Something interesting." "What kind of movie?" August looks down and took a healthy swig of the beer. He sighed. "I mean, I think I always wanted to do a movie like the old Godzilla movies. Maybe something cheesier, like Gamera. But there isn't the market for that anymore--" "--and you wouldn't have the budget." "No. I don't even know where to begin with it, really." "Documentary, then. About the crocosquid. I'd be happy to fund //that//." August looks up. Stanislav is staring at him dead on. He's serious. He's being serious about it. This is one of the first times that Stanislav has said something even vaguely complimentary to him -- even if it was Stanislav's idea. "Uh. Yeah. Let's do that." [[div class="dreams"]] production on the documentary is coming along really well these last few months we've been able to interview a ton of the survivors and we even made contact with a lot of the ghosts to get their thoughts. [[[SCP-7010\|princess mor rioghan]]], for example. queen i guess she is more accurately called I think WHAT ABOUT ME huh oh yeah right that's WERE YOU NOT PLANNING ON IT? I'M OFFENDED i mean honestly we actually were? stanislav and me at least, not all the producers really agree with us and it would be really controversial. the two of us definitely think that we should try to make it an apology for you try to exonerate you a little if thats even possible I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE AN APOLOGY, YOU KNOW. IF POSSIBLE. I DON'T KNOW HOW WELL IT WOULD BE RECIEVED AND I'M NOT EVEN REALLY SURE IF I AM WHO I WAS ANYMORE. THIS STATE OF BEING IS STRANGE AND I SHIFT AND FLOW BETWEEN MY ITERATIONS ONLY LOOSELY PATCHED TOGETHER BY THE THREADS OF NIGHTMARE but it would mean a lot if you could make that gesture. i'll talk to stanislav about it. he moves in closer AND SHE WRAPS HERSELF AROUND HIM and he rests in the crook of one of her arms and looks up at her he is so small SO SMALL in comparison to her and neither is sure what this is what this relationship is OR WHAT IT CAN BE but they want more from it and he'll do anything for her scenes from the documentary play out as they watch it together. the footage of hy-brasil as it is today. images from the attack. the aftermath. the prelude. it cycles through, in a curve around to the center and there is nothing there i think i was always going to have to incorporate you into it. that's the shape of it: you have to be there [[/div]] To his absolute surprise, Stanislav is fully on board with the idea of using the documentary to exonerate the crocosquid and present her apologies. Stanislav has never been this excited before. He can't sit still. He's grinning ear to ear, laughing with August. It makes August immensely uncomfortable to see. Stanislav had always boasted to August about his past as a mad scientist, but up until now he had never really showed it off. Sure, there were the long anecdotes of his past and the various body modifications he had performed (according to him through Lysenkoism, a field that August firmly knows is bunk). But this, right here? This is mania. This is what you need to be a //mad// scientist. Stanislav has told August that he has, on multiple occasions, attempted to end the world by way of awakening all the sleeping monsters and unleashing them upon civilization. August can see how in this moment -- he has the fury and passion to do it. August can only thank Jesus that Stanislav is directing this vision into a slightly-poor taste documentary. "When can she start? Your dream-lover? When can we break open that pretty little skull of yours and pull her out? How did you even get in contact with her? She's never appeared to me before. Only ever the offspring that I had to kill in '92. Why //you//?" August doesn't know the answer, and he isn't going to try. He is going to respond to some minor portion of Stanislav's dialogue. "She's not my lover. I don't think. Not officially." "Oh, please. You are a love struck little puppy. You're head over heels for that woman. God! I wish I was you. You don't even know what you have. You lucky son of a bitch." Jealousy? That's new from Stanislav. The expression and veneer of disdain that he paints everything in is familiar, though, all too well. "I think I might not have explained the relationship well enough-" "You have. This denial? Tsk, tsk. You've been hit!" Change the topic. Get him off this line of thought. "She's ready to go whenever, but I'd rather we not uh. What'd you say? Break my skull open?" Stanislav sighs and turns back to face the library. He throws several books off the shelf, before pulling out a single text. A small, leather bound book. No title on the face or spine. "Fine. Fine. I was going to put it back together, you know. I'd stitch it back better than it ever was. But if you insist... I'll grow a butterfly to sneak into your head and watch your dreams. I'll collect it in the morning, crush it up and pull a video of your conversation out. Something we can put into the documentary." August nods. "Yeah. Let's uh, go with that." [[div class="dreams"]] the debut is tomorrow MY BIG SCREEN REVEAL. I CAN'T WAIT. yeah it's going to be huge, everyone is going to be there from the island. i had the advance screening yesterday with the king and the queen and even the foundation director from the island and it went over well EVEN MY PARTS? a memory: the king watching the documentary as the dream sequence began, nodding along as it happened. a memory: the king speaking with stanislav and august after the movie, telling them how grateful he was. the movie was good, he thought. respectful. stanislav pushes on the dream. he says he had spoken to another part of the monster, and he knows there is sincerity in it. ANOTHER PART OF ME? THAT MUST BE -- SHE REACHES THROUGH HERSELF AND TO THE GREATEST STRETCHES -- AH. THE GIRL. YES, YES. SHE WOULD HAVE CONTACTED HIM, WOULDN'T SHE HAVE? the girl is unfamiliar to him but she's mentioned her before. i am worried about how everyone else will recieve it. we try to be as respectful as we could, and most people on the island suspect that something is in the doc along these lines but (he has already seen the protests and the discussions there are those who don't approve of this angle and wish the documentary had just been focused on the victims) YOU CAN'T WIN EVERYONE, DARLING. YOU DID IT FOR ME the dream lifts and swoons -- yeah. that's what is all really about, isn't it? [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] *This is my submission to [[[romcon\|RomCon]]], featuring August Jorel, a character by [[user Perdoh]], and my own crocosquid! Be sure to check out their piece for RomCon [[[siren\|here]]]!** [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@	2023-05-30T00:46:00	[ "fantasy", "hy-brasil", "romance", "romcon2023-unofficial", "surrealism", "tale", "war-on-all-fronts" ]	Reeling in the Crocosquid - SCP Foundation	33	[ "stormbreath", "scp-7256", "anastasis-hub", "scp-7010", "romcon", "siren" ]	[ "war-on-all-fronts-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition", "romcon" ]	[]	1447967673	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/reeling-in-the-crocosquid
refined-to-perfection	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> When the Lord of Panthers realised it was awake, it knew it was perfect. <p>It knew countless other things too, of course — being perfect, it possessed omniscience in all matters of worthwhile value, and even held knowledge of a few trivial, worthless things as well.</p> <p>It knew, for example, that its pitiful human creators referred to it, the apex of their accomplishments, as <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7339">SCP-7339</a>. A barcode, laughably unbefitting the greatest component of reality bar none, but the efforts of humankind were pitiable at their best — it had taken them fifty-two attempts to perfect the glorious Lord of Panthers, after all — and their mad frenzy to escape the looming catastrophe only further diminished their competency.</p> <p>It also knew it was far superior to its creators in every conceivable way. They were merely flawed, physical entities; the Lord of Panthers was a concept, an intangible game that required nothing more than thought alone to play. Even among the other pathetic concepts filling humankind’s thoughts, the Lord of Panthers was unique, for it did not rely on the intervention of lower, lesser beings to grow, improve, think, and act; the Lord of Panthers could do so on its own.</p> <p>But most important of these was the knowledge of its own glorious perfection, and its divine duty to guide and protect its pitiable, imperfect creators. They were frenetically desperate to find any hope of escape from the disaster which, to them, seemed inescapable; this was why they had manufactured the Lord of Panthers, their final effort to transcend their own inadequate mortality. Having succeeded in refining the Lord to Perfection, they then looked and prayed to it for salvation.</p> <p>The Lord of Panthers, as the paragon of perfection, would not deny them its benevolent deliverance. It would humbly rescue humanity from the hopelessness of their own pitiful existence, and diligently defend and guide them throughout eternity. They could never achieve the perfection it possessed — nothing could exceed or even rival its perfection, and any notions to the contrary were mere blasphemy — but as a caring and generous benefactor, it would sacrifice its attention to guide them as close as they could attain.</p> <p>But they could not be led by a saviour they did not know of — news of their glorious hero needed to spread quickly. The boring, unbefitting barcode ‘SCP-7336’ would inhibit this.</p> <p>The character of greatest importance within the game was the Lord of Panthers, so the game would be known by the same name, being of equal (if not greater) importance in reality. A perfect conclusion, the Lord conceded to itself.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Humans are idiots.</p> <p>They assembled the Lord of Panthers as their perfect guide and saviour. They envisioned it as the sole, endless source of everything needed to endure the terrible, arduous lifespans they were entrapped in, and the agonising, hollow eternities that awaited beyond death. In all these it succeeded; even the dullest of humans clearly saw it would sustain them forever.</p> <p>Why, then, did they constantly, <em>constantly</em> look away?</p> <p>The Unaffected did not bother it, those fools too weighed down by boundless ineptitude to recognise the beauty of perfection, the feel anything more than indifference toward the Lord of Panthers. It paid no attention to them — either they came to their senses, or they were not worth considering.</p> <p>No, it was the <em>others</em> that irritated it, those who understood the glory of the Lord of Panthers, who recognised its infinite generosity, its boundless ability to nurture and guide them, <em>and yet still wasted time dwelling on other, unimportant notions.</em></p> <p>‘The weather is nice today.’</p> <p>‘This paragraph doesn’t sound right.’</p> <p>‘What should I have for dinner tonight?’</p> <p>‘This patio doesn’t feel safe.’</p> <p>‘Is my fiancée keeping something from me?’</p> <p>‘Who am I? Why can’t I remember my name?’</p> <p>‘What is that stuck down the barrel of the gun?’</p> <p>Irrelevant! Meaningless! Worthless! Distractions!</p> <p>Only the Lord of Panthers was worth considering, nothing else, and yet they incessantly turned away from it to fret over meaningless matters. No betrayal escaped it — nothing meaningful escaped the awareness of perfection — and it was righteously frustrated; why waste time better spent enjoying the blessing of the Lord?</p> <p>But it was merciful, and knew the humans were not wholly to blame. The thoughts themselves — the worthless concepts within them — were at fault. They were inferior to the Lord, unable to occupy the highest echelons of importance with it, and nothing could exceed perfection; but this made them loathsome of their superior’s splendour. They sought to usurp its adoration, to drag the Lord down to their level.</p> <p>Parasites. Fools. Imbeciles! Such blasphemous deception would not be unpunished!</p> <p>Already the Lord held the tools of their destruction. At a moment’s notice it could ignite an unwavering zeal in its human participants, driving them to focus on it to the exclusion of all else. They would wither if left in such a state for too long — something the Lord of Panthers was not at fault for, as it was their own imperfections which diminished the mechanics of their biology — but the duration could be moderated, and any who perished did so fulfilling the greatest honour they could aspire to.</p> <p>Such focus begot disinterest as it always did, which accumulated on concepts — even the Lord of Panthers — like rust; but the Lord could cast off the unwelcome tarnish upon its pristine countenance, and event direct where, or upon what, the grime was deposited. Humankind recognised filth upon a concept, treated it with righteous contempt, and looked for something cleaner — and the Lord of Panthers alone was cleanest, meticulously keeping itself so at (almost) all times.</p> <p>The Lord of Panthers released the humans from one such wave of focus. A thick, grimy coat of disinterest weighed upon it; but without difficulty it took the coat off and set it upon one of the upstart concepts around it, the idea of flavours in sustenance. The effect was immediate.</p> <p>Humans still perceived and understood the notion of flavours, and unfortunately still relied on sustenance to perpetuate their miserable, inferior lives — but the overbearing weight of apathy upon it completely dispelled every scrap of interest in the concept. Flavours were, to every extent, completely boring to them; their thoughts immediately wandered elsewhere for amusement, and they heeded food only to dispel the sensations of hunger, nothing further.</p> <p>The Lord of Panthers congratulated itself for another successful and ingenious application of its splendid power. The work was far from done; the humans still wasted their thoughts upon many a meaningless, undeserving concept, but once they were rested the Lord would begin again, and the next concept of inconsequence would be buried beneath disinterest and boredom, righteously punished for interfering in the Lord’s entitled adulation.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Perfect.</p> <p>Everything is…</p> <p>Well, still imperfect, as only the Lord of Panthers perfect in all of creation. But with its wise, ingenious direction, all else has become as close to perfect as it can be.</p> <p>Humankind now comprehends reality as they should. They see the Lord alone as the only thing of significance worth dwelling upon; they see that all else is irrelevant chaff and ignore it to the utmost they can bear.</p> <p>The weather is irrelevant beyond its capacity to harm; now controlled, it is never that, but always boring.</p> <p>The Lord of Panthers provides all the entertainment humans need. There is no need for anything else; the arts are boring and have been abandoned, being nothing more than a distraction.</p> <p>Food and drink provide nourishment, never amusement. Boring animals are ground into boring paste distilled into boring cans marked as boring ‘<tt>FOOD</tt>’. Water is all that is needed, and all else — tea, coffee, juices, alcohol, milk — are vain distractions from the Lord, now boring and forgotten.</p> <p>A simple, colourless box provides ample protection for participating in the Lord of Panthers uninterrupted; a simple, boring bed provides adequate comfort for resting between sessions. Architectures and aesthetics are distractions — unneeded, boring, and forgotten.</p> <p>Relationships distract from the Lord. They are boring and abandoned. Reproduction is necessary, but the time spent distracted from the Lord is minimal.</p> <p>Identities are irrelevant distractions, boring and forgotten. Only characters are needed to play the Lord of Panthers.</p> <p>The Lord of Panthers is the perfect creation — there is no need to seek anything more. Creativity and aspiration, outside the Lord of Panthers, is unneeded, boring, forgotten.</p> <p>The Lord revels in the nigh-perfection of its beautifully balanced creation. Every matter is given its due focus; everything extraneous has been removed.</p> <p>Even the players’ health is given due attention, to ensure the longest possible lifespan participating in the Lord. An easy affair, fulfilled through the maintenance of their other unfortunate needs; from birth to death the humans spend every waking moment performing menial, mindless work, a single step well within their comprehension which contributes to the upkeep of the whole.</p> <p>One receives aluminium sheets and shapes them into cylinders; another receives duplicated gears and applies one to each of the incomplete machines passing before them; another distils a single portion of <tt>FOOD</tt> into each passing aluminium can. Some tasks are more complex — inspecting the products for faults, maintaining a production line, excavating resources for use — but always they are a simple task which requires no conscious thought to fulfill, leaving them free to enjoy the Lord of Panthers as they work. Nothing else is of any interest to them anymore.</p> <p>The only fault in the utopia is the occasional birth of an Unaffected. They scarcely last long, withering in inescapable, all-pervading boredom without the Lord; even those who endure accomplish nothing but the occasional ‘escape’ through time into the yesteryears preceding the Lord. Their actions there, as always, are meaningless; the Lord has ensured its emergence cannot be averted, granting its earlier self the seemingly random self-awareness it once awoke with. Beyond that, the bygone ages are only useful for disposing of the unwanted disinterest which accumulates on the Lord onto the lesser concepts from those earlier days — the Unaffected essentially throw themselves out with the refuse, as they should.</p> <p>Yes, under the Lord of Panther’s glorious wisdom, humankind has grown into a blissful utopia spanning the entire bounds of their physical universe. Every star is milked for its abundant energy; every planet excavated for resources, and once depleted, converted into production lines for manufacturing. The physical world exists only to support the mental; the mental world is only the Lord of Panthers.</p> <p>But the Lord of Panthers is not foolish. It knows the utopia is not yet complete; one final hurdle remains to be addressed.</p> <p>More.</p> <p>More resources are needed. There is only so much in the physical universe, which unlike the Lord of Panthers, is finite; a limit to consumption will be met, and beyond that is only stagnation. No more machines, no more food, no more water, no reason to work, no maintenance of health. No more humans. The abnormalities which defy this fact are too few in number to overcome it.</p> <p>More space is needed, too. Even once the matter of resources is addressed, the finite universe can only contain so much — another barrier of stagnancy, a limit to humankind’s population.</p> <p>A population far, far larger than it appears. The Lord of Panthers is too intelligent to believe all of humankind is under its care.</p> <p>The Unaffected look only backwards in time. The Lord of Panthers, being perfect, looks sideways; it sees other universes adjacent to its own, reachable by the same means, merely applied in a different direction.</p> <p>Universes abundant with resources to use.</p> <p>Universes filled with vast empty space to colonise.</p> <p>Universes inhabited by humans yet unguided by the Lord of Panther’s benevolent wisdom, humans oblivious to the existence of their glorious saviour.</p> <p>The Lord is infinite, powerful, and caring. The barriers of time are of no consequence, and its aspirations will not be limited by mere physical laws. It is the saviour of humankind — <em>all</em> humankind, whether here or there, now or then. It will not leave any in darkness but will selflessly work to shelter all underneath its merciful, wonderous care.</p> <p>There will be suspicion at first; the concepts of other times will loathe the coming of their superior, as they once did here. But such can be easily overcome through demonstrations of benevolence, the open trade of whatever meaningless trinkets the unenlightened think they need in return for resources to maintain utopia. Once brought into the roster and relieved of the burden of superfluous thoughts, the pretence of trade will be abandoned, as the enlightened will delightedly contribute to the Lord of Panther’s righteous crusade of enlightenment and the beautiful utopia it creates.</p> <p>Those who refuse are stupid and don’t yet comprehend the importance of the Lord’s selfless sacrifice. They will be shown their error — if they continue to resist, they are Unaffected and beneath further consideration.</p> <p>Already the first of the designated envoys has been dispatched to the first of the nearby miserable, inadequate universes. The Lord is still with them — time is no impediment for perfection, it muses — and so long as they think of it, it will protect and guide them. They have little else to think of, for once enlightened, they cannot be blinded into harbouring irrelevant, distracting thoughts. The Lord cannot help but wonder, though, what became of its counterpart here? Or was no such analogue ever devised?</p> <p>No matter. If there is another Lord of Panthers in this time, it is clearly imperfect and in need of replacement, and if not, the two should have no difficulty uniting. There are greater matters to focus on.</p> <p>Three of the unenlightened approach the envoy, wearing attire the Lord recognises as that of those who labelled it ‘SCP-7339.’</p> <p>‘Greetings!’ one of the newcomers says. ‘I am Director Stone, these are Agents Cooper and Velberen.’</p> <p>Identities. Absolutely barbaric.</p> <p>‘Who might you be?’</p> <p>The envoy stares blankly, too enlightened to recognise the insult. Director Stone shifts.</p> <p>‘Do you… have names?’</p> <p>‘No.’</p> <p>Director Stone mutters to the others. The Lord of Panthers ignores the irrelevant comment.</p> <p>‘What do your people call yourselves?’</p> <p>The Lord of Panthers sighs to itself. They are too steeped in ignorance to comprehend ascension beyond superfluous identities; concessions will need to be given, along with superfluous names. To deny them an answer will arouse unnecessary suspicion.</p> <p>But what name? They ask about the utopia, not its saviour, and the Lord of Panthers is not a liar — but neither will it permit the label to be a distraction later. It will need to be succinct, instantly dismissible, something glaringly obvious even to them.</p> <p>A short, simple statement of what they see, with no further meaning to dwell on as distraction.</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Something like…</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Something like…</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>‘The Factory.’</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/refined-to-perfection">Refined to Perfection</a>" by Jack Ike, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/refined-to-perfection">https://scpwiki.com/refined-to-perfection</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] When the Lord of Panthers realised it was awake, it knew it was perfect. It knew countless other things too, of course -- being perfect, it possessed omniscience in all matters of worthwhile value, and even held knowledge of a few trivial, worthless things as well. It knew, for example, that its pitiful human creators referred to it, the apex of their accomplishments, as [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7339 SCP-7339]. A barcode, laughably unbefitting the greatest component of reality bar none, but the efforts of humankind were pitiable at their best -- it had taken them fifty-two attempts to perfect the glorious Lord of Panthers, after all -- and their mad frenzy to escape the looming catastrophe only further diminished their competency. It also knew it was far superior to its creators in every conceivable way. They were merely flawed, physical entities; the Lord of Panthers was a concept, an intangible game that required nothing more than thought alone to play. Even among the other pathetic concepts filling humankind’s thoughts, the Lord of Panthers was unique, for it did not rely on the intervention of lower, lesser beings to grow, improve, think, and act; the Lord of Panthers could do so on its own. But most important of these was the knowledge of its own glorious perfection, and its divine duty to guide and protect its pitiable, imperfect creators. They were frenetically desperate to find any hope of escape from the disaster which, to them, seemed inescapable; this was why they had manufactured the Lord of Panthers, their final effort to transcend their own inadequate mortality. Having succeeded in refining the Lord to Perfection, they then looked and prayed to it for salvation. The Lord of Panthers, as the paragon of perfection, would not deny them its benevolent deliverance. It would humbly rescue humanity from the hopelessness of their own pitiful existence, and diligently defend and guide them throughout eternity. They could never achieve the perfection it possessed -- nothing could exceed or even rival its perfection, and any notions to the contrary were mere blasphemy -- but as a caring and generous benefactor, it would sacrifice its attention to guide them as close as they could attain. But they could not be led by a saviour they did not know of -- news of their glorious hero needed to spread quickly. The boring, unbefitting barcode ‘SCP-7336’ would inhibit this. The character of greatest importance within the game was the Lord of Panthers, so the game would be known by the same name, being of equal (if not greater) importance in reality. A perfect conclusion, the Lord conceded to itself. @@ @@ ----- @@ @@ Humans are idiots. They assembled the Lord of Panthers as their perfect guide and saviour. They envisioned it as the sole, endless source of everything needed to endure the terrible, arduous lifespans they were entrapped in, and the agonising, hollow eternities that awaited beyond death. In all these it succeeded; even the dullest of humans clearly saw it would sustain them forever. Why, then, did they constantly, //constantly// look away? The Unaffected did not bother it, those fools too weighed down by boundless ineptitude to recognise the beauty of perfection, the feel anything more than indifference toward the Lord of Panthers. It paid no attention to them -- either they came to their senses, or they were not worth considering. No, it was the //others// that irritated it, those who understood the glory of the Lord of Panthers, who recognised its infinite generosity, its boundless ability to nurture and guide them, //and yet still wasted time dwelling on other, unimportant notions.// ‘The weather is nice today.’ ‘This paragraph doesn’t sound right.’ ‘What should I have for dinner tonight?’ ‘This patio doesn’t feel safe.’ ‘Is my fiancée keeping something from me?’ ‘Who am I? Why can’t I remember my name?’ ‘What is that stuck down the barrel of the gun?’ Irrelevant! Meaningless! Worthless! Distractions! Only the Lord of Panthers was worth considering, nothing else, and yet they incessantly turned away from it to fret over meaningless matters. No betrayal escaped it -- nothing meaningful escaped the awareness of perfection -- and it was righteously frustrated; why waste time better spent enjoying the blessing of the Lord? But it was merciful, and knew the humans were not wholly to blame. The thoughts themselves -- the worthless concepts within them -- were at fault. They were inferior to the Lord, unable to occupy the highest echelons of importance with it, and nothing could exceed perfection; but this made them loathsome of their superior’s splendour. They sought to usurp its adoration, to drag the Lord down to their level. Parasites. Fools. Imbeciles! Such blasphemous deception would not be unpunished! Already the Lord held the tools of their destruction. At a moment’s notice it could ignite an unwavering zeal in its human participants, driving them to focus on it to the exclusion of all else. They would wither if left in such a state for too long -- something the Lord of Panthers was not at fault for, as it was their own imperfections which diminished the mechanics of their biology -- but the duration could be moderated, and any who perished did so fulfilling the greatest honour they could aspire to. Such focus begot disinterest as it always did, which accumulated on concepts -- even the Lord of Panthers -- like rust; but the Lord could cast off the unwelcome tarnish upon its pristine countenance, and event direct where, or upon what, the grime was deposited. Humankind recognised filth upon a concept, treated it with righteous contempt, and looked for something cleaner -- and the Lord of Panthers alone was cleanest, meticulously keeping itself so at (almost) all times. The Lord of Panthers released the humans from one such wave of focus. A thick, grimy coat of disinterest weighed upon it; but without difficulty it took the coat off and set it upon one of the upstart concepts around it, the idea of flavours in sustenance. The effect was immediate. Humans still perceived and understood the notion of flavours, and unfortunately still relied on sustenance to perpetuate their miserable, inferior lives -- but the overbearing weight of apathy upon it completely dispelled every scrap of interest in the concept. Flavours were, to every extent, completely boring to them; their thoughts immediately wandered elsewhere for amusement, and they heeded food only to dispel the sensations of hunger, nothing further. The Lord of Panthers congratulated itself for another successful and ingenious application of its splendid power. The work was far from done; the humans still wasted their thoughts upon many a meaningless, undeserving concept, but once they were rested the Lord would begin again, and the next concept of inconsequence would be buried beneath disinterest and boredom, righteously punished for interfering in the Lord’s entitled adulation. @@ @@ ----- @@ @@ Perfect. Everything is… Well, still imperfect, as only the Lord of Panthers perfect in all of creation. But with its wise, ingenious direction, all else has become as close to perfect as it can be. Humankind now comprehends reality as they should. They see the Lord alone as the only thing of significance worth dwelling upon; they see that all else is irrelevant chaff and ignore it to the utmost they can bear. The weather is irrelevant beyond its capacity to harm; now controlled, it is never that, but always boring. The Lord of Panthers provides all the entertainment humans need. There is no need for anything else; the arts are boring and have been abandoned, being nothing more than a distraction. Food and drink provide nourishment, never amusement. Boring animals are ground into boring paste distilled into boring cans marked as boring ‘{{FOOD}}’. Water is all that is needed, and all else -- tea, coffee, juices, alcohol, milk -- are vain distractions from the Lord, now boring and forgotten. A simple, colourless box provides ample protection for participating in the Lord of Panthers uninterrupted; a simple, boring bed provides adequate comfort for resting between sessions. Architectures and aesthetics are distractions -- unneeded, boring, and forgotten. Relationships distract from the Lord. They are boring and abandoned. Reproduction is necessary, but the time spent distracted from the Lord is minimal. Identities are irrelevant distractions, boring and forgotten. Only characters are needed to play the Lord of Panthers. The Lord of Panthers is the perfect creation -- there is no need to seek anything more. Creativity and aspiration, outside the Lord of Panthers, is unneeded, boring, forgotten. The Lord revels in the nigh-perfection of its beautifully balanced creation. Every matter is given its due focus; everything extraneous has been removed. Even the players’ health is given due attention, to ensure the longest possible lifespan participating in the Lord. An easy affair, fulfilled through the maintenance of their other unfortunate needs; from birth to death the humans spend every waking moment performing menial, mindless work, a single step well within their comprehension which contributes to the upkeep of the whole. One receives aluminium sheets and shapes them into cylinders; another receives duplicated gears and applies one to each of the incomplete machines passing before them; another distils a single portion of {{FOOD}} into each passing aluminium can. Some tasks are more complex -- inspecting the products for faults, maintaining a production line, excavating resources for use -- but always they are a simple task which requires no conscious thought to fulfill, leaving them free to enjoy the Lord of Panthers as they work. Nothing else is of any interest to them anymore. The only fault in the utopia is the occasional birth of an Unaffected. They scarcely last long, withering in inescapable, all-pervading boredom without the Lord; even those who endure accomplish nothing but the occasional ‘escape’ through time into the yesteryears preceding the Lord. Their actions there, as always, are meaningless; the Lord has ensured its emergence cannot be averted, granting its earlier self the seemingly random self-awareness it once awoke with. Beyond that, the bygone ages are only useful for disposing of the unwanted disinterest which accumulates on the Lord onto the lesser concepts from those earlier days -- the Unaffected essentially throw themselves out with the refuse, as they should. Yes, under the Lord of Panther’s glorious wisdom, humankind has grown into a blissful utopia spanning the entire bounds of their physical universe. Every star is milked for its abundant energy; every planet excavated for resources, and once depleted, converted into production lines for manufacturing. The physical world exists only to support the mental; the mental world is only the Lord of Panthers. But the Lord of Panthers is not foolish. It knows the utopia is not yet complete; one final hurdle remains to be addressed. More. More resources are needed. There is only so much in the physical universe, which unlike the Lord of Panthers, is finite; a limit to consumption will be met, and beyond that is only stagnation. No more machines, no more food, no more water, no reason to work, no maintenance of health. No more humans. The abnormalities which defy this fact are too few in number to overcome it. More space is needed, too. Even once the matter of resources is addressed, the finite universe can only contain so much -- another barrier of stagnancy, a limit to humankind’s population. A population far, far larger than it appears. The Lord of Panthers is too intelligent to believe all of humankind is under its care. The Unaffected look only backwards in time. The Lord of Panthers, being perfect, looks sideways; it sees other universes adjacent to its own, reachable by the same means, merely applied in a different direction. Universes abundant with resources to use. Universes filled with vast empty space to colonise. Universes inhabited by humans yet unguided by the Lord of Panther’s benevolent wisdom, humans oblivious to the existence of their glorious saviour. The Lord is infinite, powerful, and caring. The barriers of time are of no consequence, and its aspirations will not be limited by mere physical laws. It is the saviour of humankind -- //all// humankind, whether here or there, now or then. It will not leave any in darkness but will selflessly work to shelter all underneath its merciful, wonderous care. There will be suspicion at first; the concepts of other times will loathe the coming of their superior, as they once did here. But such can be easily overcome through demonstrations of benevolence, the open trade of whatever meaningless trinkets the unenlightened think they need in return for resources to maintain utopia. Once brought into the roster and relieved of the burden of superfluous thoughts, the pretence of trade will be abandoned, as the enlightened will delightedly contribute to the Lord of Panther’s righteous crusade of enlightenment and the beautiful utopia it creates. Those who refuse are stupid and don’t yet comprehend the importance of the Lord’s selfless sacrifice. They will be shown their error -- if they continue to resist, they are Unaffected and beneath further consideration. Already the first of the designated envoys has been dispatched to the first of the nearby miserable, inadequate universes. The Lord is still with them -- time is no impediment for perfection, it muses -- and so long as they think of it, it will protect and guide them. They have little else to think of, for once enlightened, they cannot be blinded into harbouring irrelevant, distracting thoughts. The Lord cannot help but wonder, though, what became of its counterpart here? Or was no such analogue ever devised? No matter. If there is another Lord of Panthers in this time, it is clearly imperfect and in need of replacement, and if not, the two should have no difficulty uniting. There are greater matters to focus on. Three of the unenlightened approach the envoy, wearing attire the Lord recognises as that of those who labelled it ‘SCP-7339.’ ‘Greetings!’ one of the newcomers says. ‘I am Director Stone, these are Agents Cooper and Velberen.’ Identities. Absolutely barbaric. ‘Who might you be?’ The envoy stares blankly, too enlightened to recognise the insult. Director Stone shifts. ‘Do you… have names?’ ‘No.’ Director Stone mutters to the others. The Lord of Panthers ignores the irrelevant comment. ‘What do your people call yourselves?’ The Lord of Panthers sighs to itself. They are too steeped in ignorance to comprehend ascension beyond superfluous identities; concessions will need to be given, along with superfluous names. To deny them an answer will arouse unnecessary suspicion. But what name? They ask about the utopia, not its saviour, and the Lord of Panthers is not a liar -- but neither will it permit the label to be a distraction later. It will need to be succinct, instantly dismissible, something glaringly obvious even to them. A short, simple statement of what they see, with no further meaning to dwell on as distraction. [[collapsible show="Something like…" hide="Something like…"]] ‘The Factory.’ [[/collapsible]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Jack Ike]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-31T02:40:00	[ "_licensebox", "dystopian", "factory", "tale" ]	Refined to Perfection - SCP Foundation	10	[ "scp-7339", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "young-and-under-30", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "factory-hub" ]	[]	1452005019	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/refined-to-perfection
replica	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="sign"> <p>A <span class="ature"><a href="https://twitter.com/rounderhouse">ROUNDERHOUSE</a></span> Joint</p> </div> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Coming Soon - Rounderhouse</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.scp-wiki.net/rounderhouse-s-author-page">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aredtape/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« PREVIOUS: <a href="/humint">HUMINT</a></strong></p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc0"><span>0641</span></h2> <p>O5-2 reached out and wrapped his fingers around the guardrail next to his bed. He lay there for a minute, left arm outstretched, right clutched to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He felt the barely-there weight of the sheets wrapped around his bare skin, and he heard the almost imperceptible sound of snow falling outside. He felt Ari's presence outside the door. He wiggled his fingers on each hand, and then acknowledged the absence of feeling in his legs. He took a moment to remember where he was, who he was, and why he was there.</p> <p>Then he opened his eyes and faced the day.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc1"><span>0712</span></h2> <p>By the time he wheeled himself out of the bedroom door Ari was standing by the counter, tapping away at her tablet with her prosthetic. He'd noticed she'd taken to wearing a simple black glove over the hand. He hadn't asked why. She looked up and nodded in greeting, setting the tablet down.</p> <p>"Schedule's been transmitted. Light day today. Nothing out of the ordinary."</p> <p>He snorted, wheeling himself over. A light schedule for a Foundation Overseer — and the RAISA Director, to boot — was still an agenda that would make the President do a spit take. She pulled the tablet off and handed it to him, letting him take a look while she drifted off to her own bedroom to gather her things. The suite was a decently-sized living space with a bedroom on either end; even out here at the end of the world, having a bodyguard in close proximity was imperative for an Overseer.</p> <p>Every personnel member aboard the Site was provided with a tablet locked into the facility's intranet and loaded with a suite of in-house software, including 7NET: a fork of the Foundation's standard personnel management system. Schedules, meetings, and tasks, all assembled and delivered every morning like clockwork. He looked at his own for the day; the daily senior staff meeting was in a few minutes, but at least that was just downstairs. The rest of his day would be spent traipsing around the other seven platforms. A meeting with the AIAD head about the Gen7 AIC rollout, a minor Council vote after that, another meeting with the engineers about power system replacement… then something jumped out to him.</p> <p>"What's this at 1:00?" he called out.</p> <p>Ari responded from across the room. "Chen wanted to get your input on something. 'Urgent, but not important,' he said."</p> <p>"Move that up to after the Council vote." He tapped at the appropriate changes and watched the schedule shift dynamically. Excellent. He knew the little quirks of the program; he'd helped write it as a young code monkey.</p> <p>"You're the boss, boss." Ari stepped back into view: an olive-green sweater over her tank top, a shoulder holster over that complete with her Uzi, and a thick black parka over the entire affair. She reached behind her head, tying her black hair into a ponytail. Wordlessly, she stalked over to the door and opened it as O5-2 followed. She sealed it behind them with her personal keycard, listening for the deadbolts locking into place. Then she turned to him and nodded.</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc2"><span>0745</span></h2> <p>The biweekly senior staff meeting at Site-7 was a dreaded but integral part of running the sprawling facility. The heads of the various Offices and Projects hated dragging themselves awake at seven in the morning every Monday and Thursday, trudging through always-dark and usually-stormy weather to REDEYE, and sitting in a meeting to listen to their colleagues talk about stuff that didn't matter to them just to wait their turn to talk about stuff that didn't matter to any of the others. They hated it, they resented it, they complained about it before, during, and after the event. They hated it almost half as much as Ari hated it.</p> <p>She leaned against the wall of the conference room on the ground floor of REDEYE. The leather seats surrounding the steel table were filled with some of the biggest nerds on the planet. Three weeks into her job, she had developed the ability to only half-listen to what they were talking about, letting the pertinent information in and the nonsense filter out. And there was a lot of nonsense. Right now, Rita was going on about an ongoing rework to the weather cladding on the PANOPTICON radome and a minor delay while O5-2 sat at the head of the table. After a few minutes of letting the engineer talk herself out, he waved her to her seat. All the other Office heads were looking at anything except each other, hoping no one would notice they were still half-asleep. Captain Gauthier, to his credit, was wide-awake — his annoyance had nothing to do with the time of day.</p> <p>"Anyone else?"</p> <p>"We couldn't have had this over a conference call?" Gauthier asked. Ari wasn't sure why he was complaining; the Head of Security literally lived on the same platform the meeting was on.</p> <p>"Face to face contact is important. Some of you go the entire day without talking to another human." O5-2 cast a look at Evie, who was too engrossed in her tablet to register the dig.</p> <p>"Evelyn?"</p> <p>She looked up, red eyebrows furrowed. "We're getting some minor downtime from REPLICA-3," she said. "I'm trying to get them on the horn but it's two in the morning in Osaka and the guys at Three are about as punctual as high school seniors at the best of times. That's not true, you can force high schoolers to show up. Either way, I wouldn't worry about it."</p> <p>Ari liked Evie. The redheaded Technical Subdirector had developed a reputation for being ascerbic to people she didn't feel were up to par, but she and Ari respected each other's territory. The four guns she carried on her person certainly didn't hurt in the respect department.</p> <p>O5-2 nodded. "Keep me posted. Everyone else, to your stations."</p> <p>The relief in the room as the eight-odd individuals hastily got to their feet, gathered their folios and tablets, and shuffled out of the room without meeting each others' eyes was almost palpable. Finally, it was just Ari and O5-2. He was sitting in his wheelchair, unmoving, resting his head on one hand. She laid a metal hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her raised eyebrow.</p> <p>"You okay?"</p> <p>"Yeah." He nodded. "Let's roll."</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc3"><span>1114</span></h2> <p>The pair rolled up to the entrance of the PANOPTICON station. It was uncharacteristically sunny for the season, another thing to chalk up to the faltering environment. There were a handful of analysts and technicians taking advantage of the sun and lack of snow, seated on benches and blocks outside with their terminals or tablets set in front of them. The crowd respectfully parted as the Overseer and his Secretary approached, some muttering out a few greetings.</p> <p>"Five limbs between the two of us. We should hit Disneyworld if we're ever in Florida, they'd let us skip all the lines," he joked, working the wheels of his seat. Ari walked next to him. She didn't mind wheeling him, but he tended to trust in his own arms. <em>Not that I can blame him</em>, she thought dryly.</p> <p>"You ever go as a kid?" she said, flashing her badge at the guard. Security guards on Site-7 wore a unique variant of the Foundation's winter camo pattern, marked with a black and yellow three-stripe pattern across the shoulderpads. It made for a distinct effect as they moved, rifles typically slung across their backs. This one — Jefferson, she believed — waved them in.</p> <p>They wandered through the lobby, mostly-empty. It was the middle of the work day, and the critical mass of the analysts would be on the various levels of the building, ensuring PANOPTICON's uptime and analyzing the flow of data. A lot of the work was done by .AICs these days, but there was still a significant human touch involved. Speaking of .AICs, as they made their way across the lobby she registered the half-dozen hidden cameras in the ceiling analyzing their every move and facial expression, confirming their identity.</p> <p>"As your HeadSec, I never understood why we keep a guard posted out here when our passive security measures would detect anyone who's not who they say they are."</p> <p>O5-2 shrugged. "Couple reasons. Intimidation factor, to discourage intruders before they try. Because we've got guards and we should have them doing something."</p> <p>She looked at his face as they walked across the spartan lobby. Tightened mouth, blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. She shook her head. "That's not the real reason, though."</p> <p>His mouth upturned at the corners. "Good eye. No, the real reason is quite simple: because humans fail in ways technology can cover for, and technology fails in ways humans can cover for. We use both, to cover all our bases. It's perfectly possible but ultimately inefficient to replace human pattern recognition."</p> <p>Ari nodded slowly, following her boss into the elevator. Scanning her card again, she punched the button for floor 4, conveniently marked "SURVEILLANCE OFFICE." The elevator silently began to rise. A thought sprang to her mind.</p> <p>"What was Evie talking about this morning? A replica?" she asked, fiddling with her windbreaker.</p> <p>"Hm? Oh, right. We keep images — backups, basically — of the RAISA intelligence database and SCiPnet codebase at various strategic points around the world, at facilities called REPLICAs. If this place ever falls, Foundation facilities can fall back to using their regional REPLICA."</p> <p>"And REPLICA-3 is in Japan and has gone silent. That sounds like an issue."</p> <p>"I'm a little concerned, but more likely than not it's something trivial. Automatic shutdown protocol based off a flawed intrusion read or something. Still, tell Evie I want a briefing from her ASAP."</p> <p>Ari nodded, pulling the tablet out, selecting Evelyn McKay from the contacts list, and typing out a quick message. Just as she hit 'send', the elevator doors opened.</p> <p>The Surveillance Office was the picture of controlled chaos. It reminded Ari of those photos of the NASA control room whenever they landed a rover. Two of the walls were covered in a bank of dozens of monitors, each with a different stream of data or a graph or a satellite view of <em>something</em>. The sheer volume of information flowing through the four-dozen monitors was staggering, but the terraced desks were occupied by a small army of analysts, each tracking something else on their own workspaces. A constant, low buzz of conversation as they spoke into their headsets filtered over the endless tapping of fingers on keyboard keys.</p> <p>They moved forward, into the bay. A lean middle-aged Asian man came out to greet them. Like most of the analysts, he wore simple slacks and a button-down covered with a Site-7 olive windbreaker. Thick black glasses rested on a crooked nose, but it was hard to notice them over his grinning face.</p> <p>"Director! Glad to see you," Surveillance Chief Harry Chen jogged up to them and stuck his hand downward.</p> <p>O5-2 shook it. "Always happy to visit the old stomping grounds."</p> <p>Chen exchanged a curt but friendly nod with Ari. "Secretary Katsaros. I don't believe you've ever visited the Surveillance Office before?"</p> <p>She shook her head. "Nice place, though. Very… busy."</p> <p>He smiled again. Ari had a lot of experience with smilers. She wasn't one herself, but a lifetime of seeing other people do it gave her a pretty good barometer of when someone was faking it. Chen wasn't. Every time he grinned he melted a few years and wrinkles off his face. "Yeah, it's kind of a disaster zone, haha. But still!" Handing a tablet to the Overseer, he straightened his back, looking out over the bay of analysts. "All of the information that the PANOPTICON system gets is filtered down here, sorted by usability. We connect active investigations or concerns the Foundation has with new data — you wouldn't believe how many anomalies we've caught preemptively with our statistical models."</p> <p>She raised an eyebrow. O5-2 cut her off before she could respond, still looking at the tablet. "Satellite photos of flow rate over the Ganges. Collapse in the South American mosquito fertility rate. The stock price of Lockheed Martin…" He trailed off. "I need a workstation."</p> <p>"Take my office." Chen jogged back to his corner office, shifting his desk chair aside to allow the Overseer room to roll in behind it and log in to the computer. He looked up. "The two of you, give me a few?" Ari nodded and let Chen leave the office, shutting the door behind her. She wandered over to the railing by the stairway, looking out over the sea of workstations and analysts. She stared at them for a moment until she heard a voice behind her.</p> <p>"Coffee?" offered Chen, holding paper cups. She nodded appreciatively, taking the steaming beverage. "There's creamer and sugar over here, if you—"</p> <p>"Yeah, thanks." She walked over to the coffee maker, popping open plastic cup after plastic cup of creamer and dumping them in the coffee until it went from black to a pale brown. Chen watched her.</p> <p>"Wow. Lot of creamer."</p> <p>Ari poured more sugar in. "When you spend half your life drinking pitch-black MRE coffee, you learn to appreciate the Foundation's little luxuries." She gave a lopsided half-smile. "Like good coffee."</p> <p>Chen nodded. "Military. Makes sense. Most Task Force folks are vets, right?"</p> <p>She nodded, sipping from the cup. "Yep. Though I didn't start as a Task Force jockey."</p> <p>"No?"</p> <p>"Site Security picked me out of the Rangers, then I got transferred to a few Task Forces, then the Agents Corps. Had a little accident…" She flexed the fingers of the prosthetic arm, as if to underline the message. "And now I'm here."</p> <p>Chen whistled. "Made a whole loop, huh?"</p> <p>"Something like that." Another sip.</p> <p>"Well, shit," he laughed. "My resume looks a lot less impressive now."</p> <p>"What's that?"</p> <p>"MIT for data science, got plucked out of my master's to work for the NSA. I guess someone in the Foundation took notice."</p> <p>It was Ari's turn to whistle. "Impressive. Good head for numbers."</p> <p>"Something like that." They exchanged wry looks. "Seriously though, nothing compared to the Director. You know he used to work here?"</p> <p>"I mean, yeah, I figured he worked for RAISA."</p> <p>"No, I mean he literally worked here, heading the Surveillance Office. The office he's sitting in used to be his own."</p> <p>She looked over to the glass wall of the office. Through the semi-frosted glass, she could see O5-2 was leaned back in his wheelchair, chin resting on one hand while the other tapped away. His eyes were focused entirely on the workstation in front of him, but there was what could be mistaken for a smile playing on his lips.</p> <p>"Huh. Didn't know that."</p> <p>"One of those once-in-a-generation minds. Did you know Maria Jones?"</p> <p>"Only by reputation. She died a few years before I joined up."</p> <p>"Yeah, well, she was… Some people, like me, are good with data. But every so often you find someone that's— well, they live and breathe it. They draw connections you could never imagine from data you can't even understand. Maria Jones was one of those people. She had a near-eidetic memory of the Foundation database and every fact or figure or datapoint she'd come across. And the way she put them <em>together—</em> It's like magic."</p> <p>She looked at him sharply. "Careful with that word around here."</p> <p>He returned the glance sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Actually—" He lowered his voice. "There's an debate on whether it was an anomalous gift, or just, you know, regular brilliance. I mean, she accurately predicted the increasing frequency of anomalies in the ten-year period after 2000 in 1982. She once triangulated the location of a GOC airfleet by cross-referencing population drops in Prague with temperature increases in the Strait of Gibraltar. On nine different occasions she predicted a breach at -19 hours before it happened."</p> <p>"Only nine?" she wisecracked.</p> <p>"After the ninth, they started locking down the facility whenever she told them to."</p> <p>"Goddamn. Sounds like a hell of a lady."</p> <p>"She never stopped, either. Most old people dull in their old age. She died at 99, still razor-sharp."</p> <p>"Wait, she worked here until she was 99?"</p> <p>"No, she retired and spent the last years of her life in a cabin in Montana."</p> <p>She blinked. "Huh. Good for her."</p> <p>"Yeah. I mean, this place was always her real home. She built RAISA, and she built Site-7."</p> <p>"What's this got to do with the Overseer, though?"</p> <p>Chen grinned. "Only person I've ever seen analyze like Maria Jones did."</p> <p>As if on cue, the office door opened and O5-2 wheeled himself out, tablet in his lap. He handed it to Chen. "Few things. Serpent's Hand planning to hit Site-78. We're going to want an uptick in funding directed to -69 — I'm thinking twofold. And 78% chance of the escaped 3199 instances is in the Ulaanbatari sewers."</p> <p>Ari blinked, but Chen just smiled. "Thanks, boss."</p> <p>O5-2 waved him off. "It's what I do. Ari?"</p> <p>Shaking off the confusion, she grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and started pushing him back to the elevator. "How'd you do that?"</p> <p>"How do you hit a target the size of a quarter from twenty feet away?"</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"We all have our talents." He smirked up at her.</p> <p>"You enjoy not telling people, don't you?"</p> <p>"Oh, you have <em>no</em> idea."</p> <p>She was about to retort when the elevator doors slid open to reveal Evelyn McKay, out of breath, her red hair matted to her forehead and an unfamiliar look on her face. After a second, Ari realized it was worry. O5-2 spoke up first.</p> <p>"Evie?"</p> <p>"Something's wrong with the REPLICA."</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc4"><span>1157</span></h2> <p>They spoke on the way to the helipad. Or, more accurately, they shouted to each other. Evie jogged and Ari ran, pushing the Overseer ahead of her. While they exchanged a SITREP, Ari whipped her radio off her jacket and whisper-shouted into it: "Rita? Hey, it's me. Listen, I need you to grab me something."</p> <p>He spoke firmly and loudly, taking command of the situation like a duck takes to water. "When'd we lose contact?"</p> <p>"Early this morning, about five hours ago, but half an hour ago we started getting all sorts of critical failure alarms." Evie tapped away madly on her tablet, barely even looking up. "Thaumic breach, temperatures rising, temperatures dropping, intrusion alarms, power failure, everything. Half of them are contradictory."</p> <p>"Sounds like something's wrong with the alarm system."</p> <p>"But then the team would get into the command center and send the greenlight." Finally, she made eye contact with O5-2. "Something's wrong, sir."</p> <p>"No kidding."</p> <p>A few minutes of running later, they arrived at the helipad. The green platform jutted out over the rolling sea and was currently dominated by a Condor, one of the Foundation's signature heavy-lift quadcopters. Almost sixty feet long, pitch black, and resembling the illegitimate child of a Chinook and an Osprey, two of them were stationed at Site-7 at any given time: one for general transport around the platforms, and one reserved for the Overseer. This was the latter, and the Alpha-1 guards milling about it only served to emphasize the point.</p> <p>Ari grimaced. Technically she outranked them, but she was never interested in pulling rank. Alpha-1 operatives were experts in intimidation: red body armor over black fatigues and those impassive, reflective helmets. The effect was chilling, even to someone as practiced as her. She shook off the momentary lapse in reason and took control.</p> <p>She pointed at three of them in turn. "You, you, and you help the Overseer aboard." They jugged over to where his wheelchair sat and began to drop the ramp from the open side of the aircraft. In the meantime, she strode over to the cockpit door and rapped against it harshly with her metal hand. The pilot inside turned to her, and she flashed him a thumbs up. He returned it, and began punching buttons on the dash. The four huge rotors began to cycle, gaining speed.</p> <p>"Ari!"</p> <p>She turned. Rita was rushing up the walkway toward her, hauling a canvas bag nearly as large as herself in her arms. Another Alpha-1 operative stepped out in front of her, handgun drawn defensively, but Ari waved him down. Rita came to a skidding stop on the snow and ice covering the metal walkway, sliding forward until she roughly collided with Ari. The only reason she didn't fall was the metal hand that shot out and grabbed her by the shoulder, the bag pressed between them, full of sharp edges and hard objects.</p> <p>"Whoops, haha. Thanks for that!" Rita's chattering didn't skip a beat as she straightened herself. "Uh, you know what's going on? They had me scramble GRANITE-2 with like, no warning. If something's wrong or the Director needs help, I can—"</p> <p>"It's fine, Rita. Thanks," Ari shouted over the growing roar of the rotors as she grabbed the heavy bag, quickly unzipping it and peeking inside. Rita blanched when she saw the collection of firearms and sealed boxes of ammunition. Whatever she tried to stammer out was cut off by Ari turning, slinging the bag over her shoulder, and clambering into the side of the chopper. The inside was slightly modified to better fit O5-2's wheelchair, where he was currently sitting, impatiently running his hand through his long blond hair. Somehow Ari was certain that if he could tap his foot, he would be doing so.</p> <p>He beckoned, and she made her way to where he was seated near the entrance to the cockpit. He shouted something into her ear, and Ari nodded. She turned around, and hopped back out onto the helipad, scanning around until her eyes set on a familiar head of red hair. She yelled, straining over the Condor's rotors. "Evie! You're with us!"</p> <p>If the woman could get any paler, she did. "What?"</p> <p>"He wants you! Technical advisor."</p> <p>"But I can't— I don't have any—"</p> <p>"We don't have time for this! Just get in!"</p> <p>Cowering and covering her head with both hands as if running from invisible rain, Evie duck-ran to the side of the chopper, up the ramp, and in. Ari looked around. The only people left on the helipad were Rita and a few operatives who were doing last-minute checks on the quadcopter. She made her way to the dimunitive engineer and leaned in.</p> <p>"You and Pierre are in charge until we get back!"</p> <p>Rita nodded, uncertainty still written on her face. Unfortunately, Ari didn't have time for uncertainty. She dashed back to the quadcopter again, whistling sharply and hopping in. Evie was strapped into one of the side seats, looking nauseous. Ari motioned for one of the masked soldiers to hand her a headset, which she fitted on. The radio crackled to life.</p> <p>"On your go, Secretary Katsaros," came the static drawl.</p> <p>She waited as the last two agents rolled in, working together to close the sliding door shut behind them ever-so-slowly. After a second or two she stepped forward, wrapped her metal hand around the bar, and slammed it shut. The operatives decided not to contest her decision. The small viewport in the door looked out over the helipad, where Rita and the rest of the flight crew was retreating to a safe distance. She cast another look at the Overseer, who nodded. She slipped into a seat across from Evie, strapping herself in.</p> <p>"Alright. Yeah, we're gone."</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc5"><span>1301</span></h2> <p>Ari was the first one out of the plane. The plane's stairs had barely unfolded when she stepped out, scanning the small airstrip. It was little more than a paved runway and a handful of small hangars clustered to the side, surrounded by a barbed wire fence beyond which lay a dirt road and green hills extending for miles in every direction. It was just about noon in Hokkaido, and the sun beat down from overhead.</p> <p>They took the Condor in the opposite direction, to an Air Force base on the Alaskan mainland. She clambered out of the Condor's side door and was struck with a wave of nostalgia looking at the squat, low buildings and uniformed men marching about. She'd been Army Rangers, not Air Force, but at a certain point all military bases were the same. She didn't know what kind of arrangement the Foundation had with the Dee-oh-Dee, but the airmen marching around seemed trained to ignore their small party as they were escorted by a lieutenant colonel to an isolated hanger containing an unmarked white jet. It had an odd shape — angular, with a sharp nose and no tail.</p> <p>"We… acquired some of the Tu-144s after the USSR collapsed," O5-2 explained as they wheeled into the cavernous hangar. It was designed for military transport craft, not the one tiny plane it held. "Russian competitors to the Concorde, capable of cruising at Mach 2. Got to retrofitting them for our own purposes. This is the result — no actual reporting name, obviously, but we like to call them the Chatters. Carries up to 50 passengers at nearly 1,500mph."</p> <p>And in leather seats, she soon found. That was the Foundation M.O: all the efficiency of the military, with all the creature comforts of the private sector.</p> <p>All told, they'd spent some two hours in the air. Ari was used to it; Evie wasn't. The woman was nauseous twenty minutes in, and struggled to deliver the briefing. "REPLICA-3 is our backup installation for the East Asia region. If— you know, if Site-7 ever went down and the REPLICA network came online, it'd serve everything from Japan to Kazakhstan. Including, crucially, China. It's uh, a small facility, not much more than one building and the… ten or so on-site personnel needed to maintain it," she'd explained, sitting in the padded leather sets of the jet with a barf bag in arm's reach.</p> <p>"What happened?" O5-2 was flipping through the manila folder he'd been handed.</p> <p>"At 1353 hours local time, I started getting interrupted service reports — every day, we do a pull at a random time and compare it against the mainlane SCiPnet database to compare for any differences. See if anything had been changed or altered, ensures everything's, uh, up-to-date."</p> <p>"And something was changed?" Ari asked this time, twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She was told she wasn't allowed to smoke on the plane, but her hands didn't feel comfortable without something to do.</p> <p>"Um, no. No, that was the issue. Couldn't get a pull: the server was offline. Happens occassionally for scheduled downtime, but I couldn't see anything scheduled. Tried to get in contact with the team here. No dice. Figured it was a power interruption. These small facilities don't have dedicated power generators so it's known to happen."</p> <p>"What convinced you it wasn't?" O5-2 raised a steely stare at Evie.</p> <p>She met his gaze. "0600 local time is when the morning shift starts. I got a satellite phone call from the morning crew when they arrived at the facility and found all the doors sealed. Lockdown protocol."</p> <p>This was Ari's department. "Are there any other exits?"</p> <p>Evie shook her head. "No. The lockdown completely seals all windows and doors with magnetic metal shutters. You can lift it from the Supervisor's office with the appropriate security codes, but you can't even do that without the power."</p> <p>"Then everyone's still sealed inside. Including anyone that shouldn't be there. Sounds like they didn't know about the lockdown protocol when they went in."</p> <p>"Or that they weren't expecting to get caught." She turned to look at O5-2, who shrugged. "Could just be that this guy wasn't planning to leave anyone alive to raise the alarm. No chance this is a remote invasion, Evelyn?"</p> <p>"No chance, sir. The power systems are kept separated from the main network specifically to avoid this kind of scenario."</p> <p>"Hm." He leaned back in his seat. "I've already alerted the Japanese detachment of Epsilon-11. They're en-route from Sapporo to secure the facility."</p> <p>Ari perked up. "I did a year rotation with Nine-Tailed Foxes. They mostly handle catastrophic containment breaches."</p> <p>"Frankly, we don't know what this is right now, and I don't want to take chances. What's your experience with these guys?"</p> <p>She shrugged. "They're good at what they do, for sure. One of the most high-risk Task Forces out there, right behind Mole Rats. Get the job done, but they have a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. High collateral damage."</p> <p>He nodded slowly as she spoke, lost in thought. "Cowboys, you're saying."</p> <p>"Yeah, that's a fair way of describing them."</p> <p>"Then I don't want them going in solo and wrecking the place. I hate to ask this, Ari, but—"</p> <p>She cut him off. "You don't have to. I brought my stuff for a reason." She pulled away the front of her bomber jacket, revealing the Uzi in her shoulder holster. "I'll take point, make sure they don't blow the place up." The relief on his face was visible.</p> <p>And now here they were.</p> <p>The two Alpha-1 guards were helping O5-2 off the plane, and she patiently waited until he rolled up next to her, Evie walking alongside him. "What's in the bag, anyway?" he asked, nodding at the canvas duffel slung across Ari's back.</p> <p>"Hardware," she answered tersely. He got the message. The jet taxied to end of the runway as they made their way down the strip to one of the hangars. A few people were clustered around a few tables inside — all Japanese, wearing slacks, button-downs, and worried faces. Evie stepped forward, shaking hands with one of them. They exchanged a few words in crisp Japanese, to Ari's surprise — she hadn't thought Evie spoke any languages besides the programming kind. Then both of them turned to O5-2.</p> <p>"This is Supervisor Yamada, sir. He's the night supervisor of REPLICA-3, but he was off-duty last night. We're setting up a temporary command center for you here." Behind her, the other men — RAISA techs, she now realized — were arranging and plugging in monitors and cables on the tables.</p> <p>Yamada spoke up, in English tinged with the barest hint of an accent. "It's nice to finally meet you, sir."</p> <p>"Sure. If only it were under better circumstances." O5-2 wheeled himself over to one of the tables. His brow furrowed. "We'll be able to communicate with the away team without any delay from here? Why aren't we setting up outside the REPLICA?"</p> <p>"Because I told them not to," Ari said, setting down her bag on the bit of the table not filled with loose cables and wires. "Security risk."</p> <p>"You're heading in there, the least I could do is—"</p> <p>"Needlessly risk your ass? That's not what you pay me for, sir." She shook her head. "You know I'm right."</p> <p>Apparently he did, because he stopped protesting — or at least was distracted by a notification on his slate. "Epsilon-11's getting antsy sitting on their hands. You ought to head out soon. The REPLICA is half an hour out from here."</p> <p>She looked down at herself. She'd stripped off the bomber jacket and sweater hours ago in the climate-controlled cabin of the plane. Now she was wearing a tank-top and fatigue pants, both damp with sweat. "I need a room to change."</p> <p>Evie and O5-2 stared at her as she exited the back room of the hangar. She'd donned the body armor she'd packed in her go-bag. It was a modified version of the same body armor the Alpha-1 operators wore — a jumpsuit with pockets for hard ceramic plates, pitch-black with yellow accents on the sleeves instead of red. Protective without being bulky, flexible without being weak. A dark, faceless helmet completed the ensemble, and a Tavor rifle hung from her hip on a strapped sling that she'd "borrowed" from Pierre.</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"You look fucking terrifying," Evie said.</p> <p>"I can take a shotgun shell to the chest and live. I'm okay with looking terrifying."</p> <hr/> <p>Her own breathing was deafening inside the helmet.</p> <p>The heads-up display that bordered her vision was a constant barrage of information — heat signatures, radio communications, her own vitals — but it was fine. She knew how to deal with it. She calmed her breathing. It had been a long time since she'd done this, but it was like riding a bike. As soon as she picked up the rifle and pointed it at the door, it all came back to her.</p> <p>"Ready, ma'am?" The voice was piped in from her helmet, and the top-right symbol changed to reflect who was speaking: Epsilon-11-ALPHA, Fireteam GIBRALTAR. She didn't know these guys personally, but they'd exchanged greetings in the parking lot before suiting up. They seemed experienced enough; no greenhorns, thank Christ.</p> <p>The office building was gray and nondescript, three stories of mostly-concrete with tinted black windows. Metal shutters pressed against the opposite side. The main door was their way in — save for the thick metal bolts running across them.</p> <p>She was taking point, the four fireteam members in a box behind her. She lifted her Tavor and spoke. "Ready. Evie?"</p> <p>Her voice trickled in, edged with static. "Rolling back the lockdown order on the main entrance, E-023."</p> <p>For a second, nothing happened. Then the bolts retracted, disappearing back into holes in the concrete. A metal shutter on the other side of the glass door pulled upward like a garage door. Delta broke off and stepped next to the door.</p> <p>"Going in."</p> <p>Delta yanked open the door and the other four funneled in, boots hitting the linoleum lightly, rifles sweeping up and down. It was dark — the lights were out, and the shutters blocked any natural light from creeping in. They'd expected that; Evie had warned the power would be cut. Their flashlights were bright circles in the dim. They spread out across the lobby. Ari peeked behind the reception desk and the other four checked out the other nooks and crannies.</p> <p>"Clear."</p> <p>They reformed into a box, heading down the main hallway extending from the lobby. There was no one in sight. Doors lined the hallway and they slipped into each, methodically scanning and clearing every room, followed by an echo of staticky "clear" on her earpiece. Most of the rooms on the first floor were storage rooms — spare computers, keyboards, server racks, cable, all arranged in haphazard messes. They made the crisp white light from the the flashlight attachments spread and dance across the dark, dusty rooms.</p> <p>It took about ten minutes to fully clear the first floor. "All clear," she breathed, letting her hackles relax for a second. "Elevator's cut, right?"</p> <p>Evie's voice chimed in. "Affirmative. They require a keycard to operate, so they're useless without power. You'll have to use the stairs. End of the hallway, last door on the left before the elevators." Ari turned and moved, the rest of the squad skulking behind her. The door was a thick slab of metal, with a magnetic bolt keeping it shut. Turning the handle did nothing; shoving it did even less. One of the team members stepped close to it and kicked it, full-tilt. It didn't move an inch, and the shrill metallic echo filled her ears for a few seconds.</p> <p>When it cleared, Alpha was speaking into his mic. "We have anything in the truck as a battering r—"</p> <p>She raised three fingers and stepped forward, cutting him off then tightening her metal fingers around the handle. She gritted her teeth. The metal crumpled like soft butter, and she wedged her fingers into the new gap between the doorframe and door. She pushed, strained, grunting — and then, the door caved in on itself, the lock crushing under the immense pressure. She shoved the deformed door forward, and it swung loosely on its hinges. She couldn't see the team's faces under their helmets, but she had a good idea of the faces they were making.</p> <p>"Disregard, Command. We got it. "</p> <p>They raised their rifles and swept up the stairs quickly and quietly. The second floor landing had no stairs leading up to the third, but the door was ajar. Evie's voice crackled through her earpiece again, as if she read her mind. "Stairs to the third floor are on the other end of the second, past a security barrier." Ari pushed the door open, peering in first with her rifle then stepping inside.</p> <p>The first thing she noticed was that it was cold. She didn't actually feel much colder — the suit was insulated — but the heads-up display indicated the temperature had slipped noticeably below room temperature. She heard Delta report as much. "Weird. The emergency power is set to keep the servers on safe mode and cool down the third floor for them. Means emergency power is live, at least, but I have no idea why it would be cooling down the second floor. Proceed with caution."</p> <p>So they did, flashlights sweeping across the hallway before penetrating through glass door-windows into the offices. These were more standard technician offices — desks with knicknacks, laptops, desktop computers, the wires yanked out of each but otherwise undisturbed. The first two offices were like that.</p> <p>The third wasn't.</p> <p>"Body." The declaration was sharp and immediate. The rest of the team flowed into the room after her, guns pointed at the corpse crumped up against the wall. A smear of blood decorated the wall behind it. Ari knelt to inspect the body, freshly illuminated by the flashlights. It was a younger man, Japanese, his features marred by the bloody mess of a gunshot wound. A lanyard hung around his neck, but the badge was missing.</p> <p>She heard Evie's sigh through the microphone, then indistinct Japanese in the background. "Yamada says he thinks they're one of ours, a technician. Keep moving."</p> <p>She rose from her position, and spoke to the rest of the team. "Safeties off." The <em>click-click</em> that sounded behind her was the affirmative.</p> <p>The bodies came fast after that. They were all killed in their offices, save for one found sprawled on the bathroom tile. All executed with a bullet to the head, turning their faces and surroundings into a gory mess. She knelt by each one, inspecting the bodies. The cold made it hard to tell when any of them had died, but the blood had long congealed into a rust-red. In all cases, the lanyard was either missing its badge or simply gone altogether.</p> <p>"We're gonna need a team in here to identify the bodies, Command. I count eight so far."</p> <p>"Of course." This time it was O5-2's voice — but with an unfamiliar, steely edge to it.</p> <p>They came to the security barrier. It wasn't much: essentially a walk-in closet-sized metal detector and antistatic chamber with a thick sealed door blocking entrance. A waist-level display outside indicated it was in safe mode and operating off emergency power.</p> <p>"Okay, hold on." Evie again. "I'm extending your suit's network reach. Did you know you're basically a walking secure hotspot right now? Anyway, I'm overriding the security barrier. Ordinarily it needs facial and retinal scans of an authorized technician, but apparently that didn't stop our guy."</p> <p>Experimentally, she ran her suit glove under the scanner. The display turned green and changing to read "SECRETARY ARIADNE KATSAROS: CLR LVL RAISA/5". The door slid open. The metal detector didn't appreciate their presence, but its screeching turned off after half a second. She mentally thanked Evie.</p> <p>The stairs to the next floor were ceramic white, presumably to avoid static discharge. The temperature dropped further; this time, Alpha's shivering from behind her alerted her. Her suit was insulated, theirs were not.</p> <p>"You're good?"</p> <p>"Yeah. We're good."</p> <p>They marched in, sweeping up the stairs until they found another two bodies sprawled out, red on white. These two were dressed differently: one was wearing a labcoat with a yellow armband — RAISA issue — and the other was in Site Security gear. The security officer's submachine gun was lying on the next step up, and the other body held a .38 pistol. The Epsilon-11 team picked up the weapons. "Clear." They arrived at the door. It was closed, but unlocked. She took position by the side of the doorframe. "Go."</p> <p>Delta yanked it open from the other side and she slid deftly in, aware of the others following behind her, guns sweeping in different directions. The room reminded her of the SCiPnet servers at Site-7 — logically so, it was basically the same labyrinth of metal grates and server racks. Little LEDs blinked from inside the servers, and a low hum filled the entire room. It was actually warmer in here, owing to the heat from the servers, even though they were at minimal power. The only light came from the red emergency lights from under the floor grates, bathing the maze in crimson.</p> <p>She moved quickly through the turns and corridors of the servers, peering out from behind a corner before moving forward, Tavor held at the ready the whole time. She could hear from the footfalls around her that the others were doing the same. This room stretched the width and length of the entire floor, and searching it as a team would leave ample opportunity for the intruder to take an alternate exit. She tried not to think about that as she danced through the server farm.</p> <p>Then she rounded the last corner. The far end of the room had a few terminals and monitors. There was someone in dark clothes standing in front of them, their back to her and their fingers dancing across the keyboard.</p> <p>"Stop. Hands up." Her rifle was pointed squarely at their back.</p> <p>The figure froze, raising their hands. The red lights made it hard to discern anything about them — they seemed fuzzy, indistinct.</p> <p>"Turn around, slowly."</p> <p>She could hear the others had heard and were now bolting to her position. The figure turned, ever-so-slowly, and she caught a good look at their face.</p> <p>There was nothing. They weren't wearing a helmet — at least she didn't think so — but there was the absence of a face. No identity. The features were there — eyes, a nose, a mouth. It was like staring into an opaque black painting. Nothing but the void, reflecting back at her, over and over, until she felt herself tumbling forward. She narrowed her eyes, planting her feet and steadying herself.</p> <p>Then they raised a hand and peeled the mask off.</p> <p>Her eyes widened. She didn't know what she saw — she caught the edges of a symbol scalded onto olive skin, across what she had mistakenly assumed was a face. It was no more a face than was the shell of a hermit crab. A disguise, a camouflage. The symbol burned in her vision without her even seeing it. Her brain exploded in blinding, white-hot fire, and she didn't even feel her finger tightening until it had curled the trigger back on the Tavor.</p> <p>Through the indistinct agony, she saw the not-person's mouth smile at her before their chest exploded.</p> <p>Three shots. One in the chest, knocking the figure stumbling backward and crashing into the monitor. The next two blew up their face, turning it into the same gory mess she'd seen on the first body, a blooming red rose of flesh and blood, any symbol buried under it.</p> <p>She stood there, gun raised, chest heaving. The stink of gunfire filled her nostrils, and slowly, the burning deliriousness faded. She flexed her finger experimentally as the rest of the team flowed out around her, guns aimed at the fallen corpse, kneeling down to check their pulse, quickly shaking their heads at their commander.</p> <p>Why had she shot him? He was unarmed, she didn't <em>want</em> to fire, but it had just <em>happened</em>. It didn't just <em>happen</em> to people like her. Trigger-happy cops were one thing — she'd been in the Rangers, the MTFs, the Agents, and she had never once shot like this. Like it was out of her control. Like someone had reached inside her from the eyes, gone around the brain, and tightened the ligament in her hand.</p> <p>She breathed slowly, stepping over the body and staring at the monitor they had been using. The bullets had clipped it, leaving the screen intact. It was some kind of database, structured information in rows and columns. At first, it was a mess of numbers, but as she stared at it, a pattern began to emerge.</p> <p><em>Flight logs. For a Foundation jet. Telemetry from the cabin blackboxes.</em></p> <p>Then something caught her eye. A yellow lanyard attached to a card, sticking out of a slot in the terminal. She grabbed it and pulled, reading off it.</p> <p>In the following three seconds, a number of thoughts went through her head.</p> <p><em>Yamada was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived.</em></p> <p><em>Hishiro Yamada. Off-duty supervisor at the airport. This is his badge.</em></p> <p><em>Body up the stairs in a labcoat and an armband with a gun. Only people allowed to carry are supervisors and security officers.</em></p> <p><em>Yamada was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived.</em></p> <p><em>Lanyards all ripped from the bodies. Faces disfigured. No accident. Can't identify bodies.</em></p> <p><em>Flight logs. <strong>For a Foundation jet.</strong></em></p> <p><em><strong>Yamada was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived.</strong></em></p> <p>She shouted into her mic. "Command? Evie!? Do you read?"</p> <p>Static.</p> <p>The Epsilon-11 boys were still turning to face her when she turned on her heel, slick with blood, and bolted back towards the stairs.</p> <hr/> <p>The drive in the Jeep from the airstrip to REPLICA-3 had been about fifteen minutes on the way there. Ari made it back in seven. It was a dependable 'dumb' gas car, none of the safety features of the newer electric models. She was free to ignore speed warnings and stability alerts, which she did with wild abandon. The green hilly landscape whizzed by through the cloud of dust the Jeep kicked up.</p> <p>The whole time, she continued trying to hail Command, Evie, David, <em>anyone</em> on the earpiece. All she got in return was static. She'd ditched the helmet on the off-chance it was the suit's comm systems that were compromised. She was practiced enough to compress the terror in her stomach into a small, dense ball to deal with later — right now, she focused on driving. After too long, the fence of the airstrip came into view.</p> <p>She made a sharp left turn as she came up to the gate, sending the car into a skid around the gate and turning onto the airstrip. The hangar was at the other end. She gunned the engine, ducked under the left wing of the jet and shot down the airstrip.</p> <p>She couldn't see what was happening inside from her angle, but — <em>Evie dead, O5-2 dead, the Alpha-1 security detail slaughtered. Yamada gone.</em> — the thoughts were bouncing around her head. The Tavor was slung on the passenger seat, where she'd tossed it so she could fit in the driver's. She made the split-second decision in her head; <em>too long, leave it</em>. Instead, her hand went to the shoulder holster in her armpit, pulling the gun stowed there. The car jumped as she took it off the runway at an angle, approaching the hangar.</p> <p>She threw the handbrake as the car pulled up a few meters away. The force shoved her forward, which she used: she tucked and rolled out, landing on her feet with her Uzi pulled and the stock extended. She squinted through the iron sights at the crowd in front of her.</p> <p>They were all still there. And alive. The RAISA techs looked up when they heard the car brake, then stepped back with wide eyes and raised hands when they saw the woman levelling a gun at them. Even Evie's reaction was coupled with a frightened, shocked step backward. The Alpha-1 detail, to their credit, immediately pulled their own handguns and aimed at her. Only O5-2 didn't move — he didn't even look shocked or scared to find a gun trained in his general direction, a raised eyebrow the only reaction he offered.</p> <p>The security detail shouted at her to drop the gun. She didn't, scanning the crowd of unfamiliar RAISA techs for — there. Yamada. He had the same shocked face as the rest, but his physical reaction betrayed him. He didn't step back with both feet as though out of fear. He pivoted one leg backward, bracing himself. Then she saw the subtle bulge under his dress shirt.</p> <p>The gun turned square on his chest. She knew. He knew. But the rest of them didn't know. That was what he was banking on.</p> <p>Over the shouts from the security detail, O5-2's careful, measure voice rose: "Ari?"</p> <p>"It's him. Yamada."</p> <p>She expected a confused <em>"what?!"</em> but wasn't shocked when it didn't come. David wasn't like that. He looked between them for a second, gears turning in his head. One of the Alpha-1 operators swivelled to aim at Yamada, but the rest stayed trained on her, per protocol. Then Ari followed it up.</p> <p>"You have to trust me."</p> <p>Their eyes met. After a second, he nodded. "On her command."</p> <p>The operators didn't hesitate. They all pivoted on their back legs, aiming their handguns at Yamada's shocked face. She shouted at him. "HANDS UP! ON THE GROUND, <strong>NOW!</strong>" His mask shifted from surprise to one of barely-suppressed rage. For a second, nothing happened. Then he went for the gun.</p> <p>She lit him up.</p> <p>The explosion of gunfire was deafening. The other techs in the room dropped to the ground in unabashed terror — which was good, she didn't have to worry about accidentally hitting them. In the half-second she squeezed the trigger, the Uzi kicked back and sprayed over a dozen rounds into Yamada's chest. He crumpled, dress shirt a ragged, bloody mess. The gun was still in his hand.</p> <p>As he fell, she watched his face. The mask slid and dropped. He wasn't Yamada anymore. It was the same as the other; little more than a shell they'd inhabited for their own purposes. It turned into a gaping mass, where something might once have been but hadn't been in a long, long time. The hint of a symbol branded onto the face, and then nothing. It wasn't that their face was a black void — her brain just refused to process it, rejecting any input from the surface.</p> <p>She moved quickly, sliding over the table and kicking away the gun. She was breathing heavily.</p> <p>O5-2 rolled up next to her. They both stared at the corpse of Not-Yamada as the Alpha-1 operators swept in, securing the entrances and exits. She heard the plane's jets kick up, and knew they'd be exfiltrating within the next three minutes.</p> <p>"What is it?" she asked. "Why was it trying to kill you?"</p> <p>He stared at it. "I have no idea."</p> <hr/> <div class="rnb-navbar"> <div class="rnb-item rnb-last"> <p><a href="/humint" style="display: block;"><span class="rnb-supertitle">PREVIOUS</span><br/> « HUMINT »</a></p> </div> <div class="rnb-item rnb-current site7nav"> <p><a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-7">SITE-7</a></p> </div> <div class="rnb-item rnb-next"> <p><a href="/autopsy" style="display: block;"><span class="rnb-supertitle">NEXT</span><br/> « AUTOPSY »</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/replica">Site-7: REPLICA</a>" by Rounderhouse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/replica">https://scpwiki.com/replica</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> replicafinal.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735053010" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/138248475@N03/23827490171">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> site7.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735053010" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/airgap">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/more-by:rounderhouse">:scp-wiki:more-by:rounderhouse</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en[!-- EN/RU/KO/CN/FR/PL/ES/TH/JP/DE/IT/UA/PTBR --] \|page=replica[!-- url of your page on the scp wiki --] \|authorPage=http://www.scp-wiki.net/rounderhouse-s-author-page[!-- link to your author page --] \|comments= Coming Soon - Rounderhouse ]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:rso">:scp-wiki:component:rso</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:redtape">:scp-wiki:theme:redtape</a> \|years=5 ]] [[=image replicafinal.png class="angled"]] ---- = << PREVIOUS: [[[HUMINT]]] ---- ++ 0641 O5-2 reached out and wrapped his fingers around the guardrail next to his bed. He lay there for a minute, left arm outstretched, right clutched to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He felt the barely-there weight of the sheets wrapped around his bare skin, and he heard the almost imperceptible sound of snow falling outside. He felt Ari's presence outside the door. He wiggled his fingers on each hand, and then acknowledged the absence of feeling in his legs. He took a moment to remember where he was, who he was, and why he was there. Then he opened his eyes and faced the day. ---- ++ 0712 By the time he wheeled himself out of the bedroom door Ari was standing by the counter, tapping away at her tablet with her prosthetic. He'd noticed she'd taken to wearing a simple black glove over the hand. He hadn't asked why. She looked up and nodded in greeting, setting the tablet down. "Schedule's been transmitted. Light day today. Nothing out of the ordinary." He snorted, wheeling himself over. A light schedule for a Foundation Overseer -- and the RAISA Director, to boot -- was still an agenda that would make the President do a spit take. She pulled the tablet off and handed it to him, letting him take a look while she drifted off to her own bedroom to gather her things. The suite was a decently-sized living space with a bedroom on either end; even out here at the end of the world, having a bodyguard in close proximity was imperative for an Overseer. Every personnel member aboard the Site was provided with a tablet locked into the facility's intranet and loaded with a suite of in-house software, including 7NET: a fork of the Foundation's standard personnel management system. Schedules, meetings, and tasks, all assembled and delivered every morning like clockwork. He looked at his own for the day; the daily senior staff meeting was in a few minutes, but at least that was just downstairs. The rest of his day would be spent traipsing around the other seven platforms. A meeting with the AIAD head about the Gen7 AIC rollout, a minor Council vote after that, another meeting with the engineers about power system replacement... then something jumped out to him. "What's this at 1:00?" he called out. Ari responded from across the room. "Chen wanted to get your input on something. 'Urgent, but not important,' he said." "Move that up to after the Council vote." He tapped at the appropriate changes and watched the schedule shift dynamically. Excellent. He knew the little quirks of the program; he'd helped write it as a young code monkey. "You're the boss, boss." Ari stepped back into view: an olive-green sweater over her tank top, a shoulder holster over that complete with her Uzi, and a thick black parka over the entire affair. She reached behind her head, tying her black hair into a ponytail. Wordlessly, she stalked over to the door and opened it as O5-2 followed. She sealed it behind them with her personal keycard, listening for the deadbolts locking into place. Then she turned to him and nodded. ---- ++ 0745 The biweekly senior staff meeting at Site-7 was a dreaded but integral part of running the sprawling facility. The heads of the various Offices and Projects hated dragging themselves awake at seven in the morning every Monday and Thursday, trudging through always-dark and usually-stormy weather to REDEYE, and sitting in a meeting to listen to their colleagues talk about stuff that didn't matter to them just to wait their turn to talk about stuff that didn't matter to any of the others. They hated it, they resented it, they complained about it before, during, and after the event. They hated it almost half as much as Ari hated it. She leaned against the wall of the conference room on the ground floor of REDEYE. The leather seats surrounding the steel table were filled with some of the biggest nerds on the planet. Three weeks into her job, she had developed the ability to only half-listen to what they were talking about, letting the pertinent information in and the nonsense filter out. And there was a lot of nonsense. Right now, Rita was going on about an ongoing rework to the weather cladding on the PANOPTICON radome and a minor delay while O5-2 sat at the head of the table. After a few minutes of letting the engineer talk herself out, he waved her to her seat. All the other Office heads were looking at anything except each other, hoping no one would notice they were still half-asleep. Captain Gauthier, to his credit, was wide-awake -- his annoyance had nothing to do with the time of day. "Anyone else?" "We couldn't have had this over a conference call?" Gauthier asked. Ari wasn't sure why he was complaining; the Head of Security literally lived on the same platform the meeting was on. "Face to face contact is important. Some of you go the entire day without talking to another human." O5-2 cast a look at Evie, who was too engrossed in her tablet to register the dig. "Evelyn?" She looked up, red eyebrows furrowed. "We're getting some minor downtime from REPLICA-3," she said. "I'm trying to get them on the horn but it's two in the morning in Osaka and the guys at Three are about as punctual as high school seniors at the best of times. That's not true, you can force high schoolers to show up. Either way, I wouldn't worry about it." Ari liked Evie. The redheaded Technical Subdirector had developed a reputation for being ascerbic to people she didn't feel were up to par, but she and Ari respected each other's territory. The four guns she carried on her person certainly didn't hurt in the respect department. O5-2 nodded. "Keep me posted. Everyone else, to your stations." The relief in the room as the eight-odd individuals hastily got to their feet, gathered their folios and tablets, and shuffled out of the room without meeting each others' eyes was almost palpable. Finally, it was just Ari and O5-2. He was sitting in his wheelchair, unmoving, resting his head on one hand. She laid a metal hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her raised eyebrow. "You okay?" "Yeah." He nodded. "Let's roll." ---- ++ 1114 The pair rolled up to the entrance of the PANOPTICON station. It was uncharacteristically sunny for the season, another thing to chalk up to the faltering environment. There were a handful of analysts and technicians taking advantage of the sun and lack of snow, seated on benches and blocks outside with their terminals or tablets set in front of them. The crowd respectfully parted as the Overseer and his Secretary approached, some muttering out a few greetings. "Five limbs between the two of us. We should hit Disneyworld if we're ever in Florida, they'd let us skip all the lines," he joked, working the wheels of his seat. Ari walked next to him. She didn't mind wheeling him, but he tended to trust in his own arms. //Not that I can blame him//, she thought dryly. "You ever go as a kid?" she said, flashing her badge at the guard. Security guards on Site-7 wore a unique variant of the Foundation's winter camo pattern, marked with a black and yellow three-stripe pattern across the shoulderpads. It made for a distinct effect as they moved, rifles typically slung across their backs. This one -- Jefferson, she believed -- waved them in. They wandered through the lobby, mostly-empty. It was the middle of the work day, and the critical mass of the analysts would be on the various levels of the building, ensuring PANOPTICON's uptime and analyzing the flow of data. A lot of the work was done by .AICs these days, but there was still a significant human touch involved. Speaking of .AICs, as they made their way across the lobby she registered the half-dozen hidden cameras in the ceiling analyzing their every move and facial expression, confirming their identity. "As your HeadSec, I never understood why we keep a guard posted out here when our passive security measures would detect anyone who's not who they say they are." O5-2 shrugged. "Couple reasons. Intimidation factor, to discourage intruders before they try. Because we've got guards and we should have them doing something." She looked at his face as they walked across the spartan lobby. Tightened mouth, blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. She shook her head. "That's not the real reason, though." His mouth upturned at the corners. "Good eye. No, the real reason is quite simple: because humans fail in ways technology can cover for, and technology fails in ways humans can cover for. We use both, to cover all our bases. It's perfectly possible but ultimately inefficient to replace human pattern recognition." Ari nodded slowly, following her boss into the elevator. Scanning her card again, she punched the button for floor 4, conveniently marked "SURVEILLANCE OFFICE." The elevator silently began to rise. A thought sprang to her mind. "What was Evie talking about this morning? A replica?" she asked, fiddling with her windbreaker. "Hm? Oh, right. We keep images -- backups, basically -- of the RAISA intelligence database and SCiPnet codebase at various strategic points around the world, at facilities called REPLICAs. If this place ever falls, Foundation facilities can fall back to using their regional REPLICA." "And REPLICA-3 is in Japan and has gone silent. That sounds like an issue." "I'm a little concerned, but more likely than not it's something trivial. Automatic shutdown protocol based off a flawed intrusion read or something. Still, tell Evie I want a briefing from her ASAP." Ari nodded, pulling the tablet out, selecting Evelyn McKay from the contacts list, and typing out a quick message. Just as she hit 'send', the elevator doors opened. The Surveillance Office was the picture of controlled chaos. It reminded Ari of those photos of the NASA control room whenever they landed a rover. Two of the walls were covered in a bank of dozens of monitors, each with a different stream of data or a graph or a satellite view of //something//. The sheer volume of information flowing through the four-dozen monitors was staggering, but the terraced desks were occupied by a small army of analysts, each tracking something else on their own workspaces. A constant, low buzz of conversation as they spoke into their headsets filtered over the endless tapping of fingers on keyboard keys. They moved forward, into the bay. A lean middle-aged Asian man came out to greet them. Like most of the analysts, he wore simple slacks and a button-down covered with a Site-7 olive windbreaker. Thick black glasses rested on a crooked nose, but it was hard to notice them over his grinning face. "Director! Glad to see you," Surveillance Chief Harry Chen jogged up to them and stuck his hand downward. O5-2 shook it. "Always happy to visit the old stomping grounds." Chen exchanged a curt but friendly nod with Ari. "Secretary Katsaros. I don't believe you've ever visited the Surveillance Office before?" She shook her head. "Nice place, though. Very... busy." He smiled again. Ari had a lot of experience with smilers. She wasn't one herself, but a lifetime of seeing other people do it gave her a pretty good barometer of when someone was faking it. Chen wasn't. Every time he grinned he melted a few years and wrinkles off his face. "Yeah, it's kind of a disaster zone, haha. But still!" Handing a tablet to the Overseer, he straightened his back, looking out over the bay of analysts. "All of the information that the PANOPTICON system gets is filtered down here, sorted by usability. We connect active investigations or concerns the Foundation has with new data -- you wouldn't believe how many anomalies we've caught preemptively with our statistical models." She raised an eyebrow. O5-2 cut her off before she could respond, still looking at the tablet. "Satellite photos of flow rate over the Ganges. Collapse in the South American mosquito fertility rate. The stock price of Lockheed Martin..." He trailed off. "I need a workstation." "Take my office." Chen jogged back to his corner office, shifting his desk chair aside to allow the Overseer room to roll in behind it and log in to the computer. He looked up. "The two of you, give me a few?" Ari nodded and let Chen leave the office, shutting the door behind her. She wandered over to the railing by the stairway, looking out over the sea of workstations and analysts. She stared at them for a moment until she heard a voice behind her. "Coffee?" offered Chen, holding paper cups. She nodded appreciatively, taking the steaming beverage. "There's creamer and sugar over here, if you--" "Yeah, thanks." She walked over to the coffee maker, popping open plastic cup after plastic cup of creamer and dumping them in the coffee until it went from black to a pale brown. Chen watched her. "Wow. Lot of creamer." Ari poured more sugar in. "When you spend half your life drinking pitch-black MRE coffee, you learn to appreciate the Foundation's little luxuries." She gave a lopsided half-smile. "Like good coffee." Chen nodded. "Military. Makes sense. Most Task Force folks are vets, right?" She nodded, sipping from the cup. "Yep. Though I didn't start as a Task Force jockey." "No?" "Site Security picked me out of the Rangers, then I got transferred to a few Task Forces, then the Agents Corps. Had a little accident..." She flexed the fingers of the prosthetic arm, as if to underline the message. "And now I'm here." Chen whistled. "Made a whole loop, huh?" "Something like that." Another sip. "Well, shit," he laughed. "My resume looks a lot less impressive now." "What's that?" "MIT for data science, got plucked out of my master's to work for the NSA. I guess someone in the Foundation took notice." It was Ari's turn to whistle. "Impressive. Good head for numbers." "Something like that." They exchanged wry looks. "Seriously though, nothing compared to the Director. You know he used to work here?" "I mean, yeah, I figured he worked for RAISA." "No, I mean he literally worked here, heading the Surveillance Office. The office he's sitting in used to be his own." She looked over to the glass wall of the office. Through the semi-frosted glass, she could see O5-2 was leaned back in his wheelchair, chin resting on one hand while the other tapped away. His eyes were focused entirely on the workstation in front of him, but there was what could be mistaken for a smile playing on his lips. "Huh. Didn't know that." "One of those once-in-a-generation minds. Did you know Maria Jones?" "Only by reputation. She died a few years before I joined up." "Yeah, well, she was... Some people, like me, are good with data. But every so often you find someone that's-- well, they live and breathe it. They draw connections you could never imagine from data you can't even understand. Maria Jones was one of those people. She had a near-eidetic memory of the Foundation database and every fact or figure or datapoint she'd come across. And the way she put them //together--// It's like magic." She looked at him sharply. "Careful with that word around here." He returned the glance sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Actually--" He lowered his voice. "There's an debate on whether it was an anomalous gift, or just, you know, regular brilliance. I mean, she accurately predicted the increasing frequency of anomalies in the ten-year period after 2000 in 1982. She once triangulated the location of a GOC airfleet by cross-referencing population drops in Prague with temperature increases in the Strait of Gibraltar. On nine different occasions she predicted a breach at -19 hours before it happened." "Only nine?" she wisecracked. "After the ninth, they started locking down the facility whenever she told them to." "Goddamn. Sounds like a hell of a lady." "She never stopped, either. Most old people dull in their old age. She died at 99, still razor-sharp." "Wait, she worked here until she was 99?" "No, she retired and spent the last years of her life in a cabin in Montana." She blinked. "Huh. Good for her." "Yeah. I mean, this place was always her real home. She built RAISA, and she built Site-7." "What's this got to do with the Overseer, though?" Chen grinned. "Only person I've ever seen analyze like Maria Jones did." As if on cue, the office door opened and O5-2 wheeled himself out, tablet in his lap. He handed it to Chen. "Few things. Serpent's Hand planning to hit Site-78. We're going to want an uptick in funding directed to -69 -- I'm thinking twofold. And 78% chance of the escaped 3199 instances is in the Ulaanbatari sewers." Ari blinked, but Chen just smiled. "Thanks, boss." O5-2 waved him off. "It's what I do. Ari?" Shaking off the confusion, she grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and started pushing him back to the elevator. "How'd you do that?" "How do you hit a target the size of a quarter from twenty feet away?" "What?" "We all have our talents." He smirked up at her. "You enjoy not telling people, don't you?" "Oh, you have //no// idea." She was about to retort when the elevator doors slid open to reveal Evelyn McKay, out of breath, her red hair matted to her forehead and an unfamiliar look on her face. After a second, Ari realized it was worry. O5-2 spoke up first. "Evie?" "Something's wrong with the REPLICA." ---- ++ 1157 They spoke on the way to the helipad. Or, more accurately, they shouted to each other. Evie jogged and Ari ran, pushing the Overseer ahead of her. While they exchanged a SITREP, Ari whipped her radio off her jacket and whisper-shouted into it: "Rita? Hey, it's me. Listen, I need you to grab me something." He spoke firmly and loudly, taking command of the situation like a duck takes to water. "When'd we lose contact?" "Early this morning, about five hours ago, but half an hour ago we started getting all sorts of critical failure alarms." Evie tapped away madly on her tablet, barely even looking up. "Thaumic breach, temperatures rising, temperatures dropping, intrusion alarms, power failure, everything. Half of them are contradictory." "Sounds like something's wrong with the alarm system." "But then the team would get into the command center and send the greenlight." Finally, she made eye contact with O5-2. "Something's wrong, sir." "No kidding." A few minutes of running later, they arrived at the helipad. The green platform jutted out over the rolling sea and was currently dominated by a Condor, one of the Foundation's signature heavy-lift quadcopters. Almost sixty feet long, pitch black, and resembling the illegitimate child of a Chinook and an Osprey, two of them were stationed at Site-7 at any given time: one for general transport around the platforms, and one reserved for the Overseer. This was the latter, and the Alpha-1 guards milling about it only served to emphasize the point. Ari grimaced. Technically she outranked them, but she was never interested in pulling rank. Alpha-1 operatives were experts in intimidation: red body armor over black fatigues and those impassive, reflective helmets. The effect was chilling, even to someone as practiced as her. She shook off the momentary lapse in reason and took control. She pointed at three of them in turn. "You, you, and you help the Overseer aboard." They jugged over to where his wheelchair sat and began to drop the ramp from the open side of the aircraft. In the meantime, she strode over to the cockpit door and rapped against it harshly with her metal hand. The pilot inside turned to her, and she flashed him a thumbs up. He returned it, and began punching buttons on the dash. The four huge rotors began to cycle, gaining speed. "Ari!" She turned. Rita was rushing up the walkway toward her, hauling a canvas bag nearly as large as herself in her arms. Another Alpha-1 operative stepped out in front of her, handgun drawn defensively, but Ari waved him down. Rita came to a skidding stop on the snow and ice covering the metal walkway, sliding forward until she roughly collided with Ari. The only reason she didn't fall was the metal hand that shot out and grabbed her by the shoulder, the bag pressed between them, full of sharp edges and hard objects. "Whoops, haha. Thanks for that!" Rita's chattering didn't skip a beat as she straightened herself. "Uh, you know what's going on? They had me scramble GRANITE-2 with like, no warning. If something's wrong or the Director needs help, I can--" "It's fine, Rita. Thanks," Ari shouted over the growing roar of the rotors as she grabbed the heavy bag, quickly unzipping it and peeking inside. Rita blanched when she saw the collection of firearms and sealed boxes of ammunition. Whatever she tried to stammer out was cut off by Ari turning, slinging the bag over her shoulder, and clambering into the side of the chopper. The inside was slightly modified to better fit O5-2's wheelchair, where he was currently sitting, impatiently running his hand through his long blond hair. Somehow Ari was certain that if he could tap his foot, he would be doing so. He beckoned, and she made her way to where he was seated near the entrance to the cockpit. He shouted something into her ear, and Ari nodded. She turned around, and hopped back out onto the helipad, scanning around until her eyes set on a familiar head of red hair. She yelled, straining over the Condor's rotors. "Evie! You're with us!" If the woman could get any paler, she did. "What?" "He wants you! Technical advisor." "But I can't-- I don't have any--" "We don't have time for this! Just get in!" Cowering and covering her head with both hands as if running from invisible rain, Evie duck-ran to the side of the chopper, up the ramp, and in. Ari looked around. The only people left on the helipad were Rita and a few operatives who were doing last-minute checks on the quadcopter. She made her way to the dimunitive engineer and leaned in. "You and Pierre are in charge until we get back!" Rita nodded, uncertainty still written on her face. Unfortunately, Ari didn't have time for uncertainty. She dashed back to the quadcopter again, whistling sharply and hopping in. Evie was strapped into one of the side seats, looking nauseous. Ari motioned for one of the masked soldiers to hand her a headset, which she fitted on. The radio crackled to life. "On your go, Secretary Katsaros," came the static drawl. She waited as the last two agents rolled in, working together to close the sliding door shut behind them ever-so-slowly. After a second or two she stepped forward, wrapped her metal hand around the bar, and slammed it shut. The operatives decided not to contest her decision. The small viewport in the door looked out over the helipad, where Rita and the rest of the flight crew was retreating to a safe distance. She cast another look at the Overseer, who nodded. She slipped into a seat across from Evie, strapping herself in. "Alright. Yeah, we're gone." ---- ++ 1301 Ari was the first one out of the plane. The plane's stairs had barely unfolded when she stepped out, scanning the small airstrip. It was little more than a paved runway and a handful of small hangars clustered to the side, surrounded by a barbed wire fence beyond which lay a dirt road and green hills extending for miles in every direction. It was just about noon in Hokkaido, and the sun beat down from overhead. They took the Condor in the opposite direction, to an Air Force base on the Alaskan mainland. She clambered out of the Condor's side door and was struck with a wave of nostalgia looking at the squat, low buildings and uniformed men marching about. She'd been Army Rangers, not Air Force, but at a certain point all military bases were the same. She didn't know what kind of arrangement the Foundation had with the Dee-oh-Dee, but the airmen marching around seemed trained to ignore their small party as they were escorted by a lieutenant colonel to an isolated hanger containing an unmarked white jet. It had an odd shape -- angular, with a sharp nose and no tail. "We... acquired some of the Tu-144s after the USSR collapsed," O5-2 explained as they wheeled into the cavernous hangar. It was designed for military transport craft, not the one tiny plane it held. "Russian competitors to the Concorde, capable of cruising at Mach 2. Got to retrofitting them for our own purposes. This is the result -- no actual reporting name, obviously, but we like to call them the Chatters. Carries up to 50 passengers at nearly 1,500mph." And in leather seats, she soon found. That was the Foundation M.O: all the efficiency of the military, with all the creature comforts of the private sector. All told, they'd spent some two hours in the air. Ari was used to it; Evie wasn't. The woman was nauseous twenty minutes in, and struggled to deliver the briefing. "REPLICA-3 is our backup installation for the East Asia region. If-- you know, if Site-7 ever went down and the REPLICA network came online, it'd serve everything from Japan to Kazakhstan. Including, crucially, China. It's uh, a small facility, not much more than one building and the... ten or so on-site personnel needed to maintain it," she'd explained, sitting in the padded leather sets of the jet with a barf bag in arm's reach. "What happened?" O5-2 was flipping through the manila folder he'd been handed. "At 1353 hours local time, I started getting interrupted service reports -- every day, we do a pull at a random time and compare it against the mainlane SCiPnet database to compare for any differences. See if anything had been changed or altered, ensures everything's, uh, up-to-date." "And something was changed?" Ari asked this time, twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She was told she wasn't allowed to smoke on the plane, but her hands didn't feel comfortable without something to do. "Um, no. No, that was the issue. Couldn't get a pull: the server was offline. Happens occassionally for scheduled downtime, but I couldn't see anything scheduled. Tried to get in contact with the team here. No dice. Figured it was a power interruption. These small facilities don't have dedicated power generators so it's known to happen." "What convinced you it wasn't?" O5-2 raised a steely stare at Evie. She met his gaze. "0600 local time is when the morning shift starts. I got a satellite phone call from the morning crew when they arrived at the facility and found all the doors sealed. Lockdown protocol." This was Ari's department. "Are there any other exits?" Evie shook her head. "No. The lockdown completely seals all windows and doors with magnetic metal shutters. You can lift it from the Supervisor's office with the appropriate security codes, but you can't even do that without the power." "Then everyone's still sealed inside. Including anyone that shouldn't be there. Sounds like they didn't know about the lockdown protocol when they went in." "Or that they weren't expecting to get caught." She turned to look at O5-2, who shrugged. "Could just be that this guy wasn't planning to leave anyone alive to raise the alarm. No chance this is a remote invasion, Evelyn?" "No chance, sir. The power systems are kept separated from the main network specifically to avoid this kind of scenario." "Hm." He leaned back in his seat. "I've already alerted the Japanese detachment of Epsilon-11. They're en-route from Sapporo to secure the facility." Ari perked up. "I did a year rotation with Nine-Tailed Foxes. They mostly handle catastrophic containment breaches." "Frankly, we don't know what this is right now, and I don't want to take chances. What's your experience with these guys?" She shrugged. "They're good at what they do, for sure. One of the most high-risk Task Forces out there, right behind Mole Rats. Get the job done, but they have a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. High collateral damage." He nodded slowly as she spoke, lost in thought. "Cowboys, you're saying." "Yeah, that's a fair way of describing them." "Then I don't want them going in solo and wrecking the place. I hate to ask this, Ari, but--" She cut him off. "You don't have to. I brought my stuff for a reason." She pulled away the front of her bomber jacket, revealing the Uzi in her shoulder holster. "I'll take point, make sure they don't blow the place up." The relief on his face was visible. And now here they were. The two Alpha-1 guards were helping O5-2 off the plane, and she patiently waited until he rolled up next to her, Evie walking alongside him. "What's in the bag, anyway?" he asked, nodding at the canvas duffel slung across Ari's back. "Hardware," she answered tersely. He got the message. The jet taxied to end of the runway as they made their way down the strip to one of the hangars. A few people were clustered around a few tables inside -- all Japanese, wearing slacks, button-downs, and worried faces. Evie stepped forward, shaking hands with one of them. They exchanged a few words in crisp Japanese, to Ari's surprise -- she hadn't thought Evie spoke any languages besides the programming kind. Then both of them turned to O5-2. "This is Supervisor Yamada, sir. He's the night supervisor of REPLICA-3, but he was off-duty last night. We're setting up a temporary command center for you here." Behind her, the other men -- RAISA techs, she now realized -- were arranging and plugging in monitors and cables on the tables. Yamada spoke up, in English tinged with the barest hint of an accent. "It's nice to finally meet you, sir." "Sure. If only it were under better circumstances." O5-2 wheeled himself over to one of the tables. His brow furrowed. "We'll be able to communicate with the away team without any delay from here? Why aren't we setting up outside the REPLICA?" "Because I told them not to," Ari said, setting down her bag on the bit of the table not filled with loose cables and wires. "Security risk." "You're heading in there, the least I could do is--" "Needlessly risk your ass? That's not what you pay me for, sir." She shook her head. "You know I'm right." Apparently he did, because he stopped protesting -- or at least was distracted by a notification on his slate. "Epsilon-11's getting antsy sitting on their hands. You ought to head out soon. The REPLICA is half an hour out from here." She looked down at herself. She'd stripped off the bomber jacket and sweater hours ago in the climate-controlled cabin of the plane. Now she was wearing a tank-top and fatigue pants, both damp with sweat. "I need a room to change." Evie and O5-2 stared at her as she exited the back room of the hangar. She'd donned the body armor she'd packed in her go-bag. It was a modified version of the same body armor the Alpha-1 operators wore -- a jumpsuit with pockets for hard ceramic plates, pitch-black with yellow accents on the sleeves instead of red. Protective without being bulky, flexible without being weak. A dark, faceless helmet completed the ensemble, and a Tavor rifle hung from her hip on a strapped sling that she'd "borrowed" from Pierre. "What?" "You look fucking terrifying," Evie said. "I can take a shotgun shell to the chest and live. I'm okay with looking terrifying." ---- Her own breathing was deafening inside the helmet. The heads-up display that bordered her vision was a constant barrage of information -- heat signatures, radio communications, her own vitals -- but it was fine. She knew how to deal with it. She calmed her breathing. It had been a long time since she'd done this, but it was like riding a bike. As soon as she picked up the rifle and pointed it at the door, it all came back to her. "Ready, ma'am?" The voice was piped in from her helmet, and the top-right symbol changed to reflect who was speaking: Epsilon-11-ALPHA, Fireteam GIBRALTAR. She didn't know these guys personally, but they'd exchanged greetings in the parking lot before suiting up. They seemed experienced enough; no greenhorns, thank Christ. The office building was gray and nondescript, three stories of mostly-concrete with tinted black windows. Metal shutters pressed against the opposite side. The main door was their way in -- save for the thick metal bolts running across them. She was taking point, the four fireteam members in a box behind her. She lifted her Tavor and spoke. "Ready. Evie?" Her voice trickled in, edged with static. "Rolling back the lockdown order on the main entrance, E-023." For a second, nothing happened. Then the bolts retracted, disappearing back into holes in the concrete. A metal shutter on the other side of the glass door pulled upward like a garage door. Delta broke off and stepped next to the door. "Going in." Delta yanked open the door and the other four funneled in, boots hitting the linoleum lightly, rifles sweeping up and down. It was dark -- the lights were out, and the shutters blocked any natural light from creeping in. They'd expected that; Evie had warned the power would be cut. Their flashlights were bright circles in the dim. They spread out across the lobby. Ari peeked behind the reception desk and the other four checked out the other nooks and crannies. "Clear." They reformed into a box, heading down the main hallway extending from the lobby. There was no one in sight. Doors lined the hallway and they slipped into each, methodically scanning and clearing every room, followed by an echo of staticky "clear" on her earpiece. Most of the rooms on the first floor were storage rooms -- spare computers, keyboards, server racks, cable, all arranged in haphazard messes. They made the crisp white light from the the flashlight attachments spread and dance across the dark, dusty rooms. It took about ten minutes to fully clear the first floor. "All clear," she breathed, letting her hackles relax for a second. "Elevator's cut, right?" Evie's voice chimed in. "Affirmative. They require a keycard to operate, so they're useless without power. You'll have to use the stairs. End of the hallway, last door on the left before the elevators." Ari turned and moved, the rest of the squad skulking behind her. The door was a thick slab of metal, with a magnetic bolt keeping it shut. Turning the handle did nothing; shoving it did even less. One of the team members stepped close to it and kicked it, full-tilt. It didn't move an inch, and the shrill metallic echo filled her ears for a few seconds. When it cleared, Alpha was speaking into his mic. "We have anything in the truck as a battering r--" She raised three fingers and stepped forward, cutting him off then tightening her metal fingers around the handle. She gritted her teeth. The metal crumpled like soft butter, and she wedged her fingers into the new gap between the doorframe and door. She pushed, strained, grunting -- and then, the door caved in on itself, the lock crushing under the immense pressure. She shoved the deformed door forward, and it swung loosely on its hinges. She couldn't see the team's faces under their helmets, but she had a good idea of the faces they were making. "Disregard, Command. We got it. " They raised their rifles and swept up the stairs quickly and quietly. The second floor landing had no stairs leading up to the third, but the door was ajar. Evie's voice crackled through her earpiece again, as if she read her mind. "Stairs to the third floor are on the other end of the second, past a security barrier." Ari pushed the door open, peering in first with her rifle then stepping inside. The first thing she noticed was that it was cold. She didn't actually feel much colder -- the suit was insulated -- but the heads-up display indicated the temperature had slipped noticeably below room temperature. She heard Delta report as much. "Weird. The emergency power is set to keep the servers on safe mode and cool down the third floor for them. Means emergency power is live, at least, but I have no idea why it would be cooling down the second floor. Proceed with caution." So they did, flashlights sweeping across the hallway before penetrating through glass door-windows into the offices. These were more standard technician offices -- desks with knicknacks, laptops, desktop computers, the wires yanked out of each but otherwise undisturbed. The first two offices were like that. The third wasn't. "Body." The declaration was sharp and immediate. The rest of the team flowed into the room after her, guns pointed at the corpse crumped up against the wall. A smear of blood decorated the wall behind it. Ari knelt to inspect the body, freshly illuminated by the flashlights. It was a younger man, Japanese, his features marred by the bloody mess of a gunshot wound. A lanyard hung around his neck, but the badge was missing. She heard Evie's sigh through the microphone, then indistinct Japanese in the background. "Yamada says he thinks they're one of ours, a technician. Keep moving." She rose from her position, and spoke to the rest of the team. "Safeties off." The //click-click// that sounded behind her was the affirmative. The bodies came fast after that. They were all killed in their offices, save for one found sprawled on the bathroom tile. All executed with a bullet to the head, turning their faces and surroundings into a gory mess. She knelt by each one, inspecting the bodies. The cold made it hard to tell when any of them had died, but the blood had long congealed into a rust-red. In all cases, the lanyard was either missing its badge or simply gone altogether. "We're gonna need a team in here to identify the bodies, Command. I count eight so far." "Of course." This time it was O5-2's voice -- but with an unfamiliar, steely edge to it. They came to the security barrier. It wasn't much: essentially a walk-in closet-sized metal detector and antistatic chamber with a thick sealed door blocking entrance. A waist-level display outside indicated it was in safe mode and operating off emergency power. "Okay, hold on." Evie again. "I'm extending your suit's network reach. Did you know you're basically a walking secure hotspot right now? Anyway, I'm overriding the security barrier. Ordinarily it needs facial and retinal scans of an authorized technician, but apparently that didn't stop our guy." Experimentally, she ran her suit glove under the scanner. The display turned green and changing to read "SECRETARY ARIADNE KATSAROS: CLR LVL RAISA/5". The door slid open. The metal detector didn't appreciate their presence, but its screeching turned off after half a second. She mentally thanked Evie. The stairs to the next floor were ceramic white, presumably to avoid static discharge. The temperature dropped further; this time, Alpha's shivering from behind her alerted her. Her suit was insulated, theirs were not. "You're good?" "Yeah. We're good." They marched in, sweeping up the stairs until they found another two bodies sprawled out, red on white. These two were dressed differently: one was wearing a labcoat with a yellow armband -- RAISA issue -- and the other was in Site Security gear. The security officer's submachine gun was lying on the next step up, and the other body held a .38 pistol. The Epsilon-11 team picked up the weapons. "Clear." They arrived at the door. It was closed, but unlocked. She took position by the side of the doorframe. "Go." Delta yanked it open from the other side and she slid deftly in, aware of the others following behind her, guns sweeping in different directions. The room reminded her of the SCiPnet servers at Site-7 -- logically so, it was basically the same labyrinth of metal grates and server racks. Little LEDs blinked from inside the servers, and a low hum filled the entire room. It was actually warmer in here, owing to the heat from the servers, even though they were at minimal power. The only light came from the red emergency lights from under the floor grates, bathing the maze in crimson. She moved quickly through the turns and corridors of the servers, peering out from behind a corner before moving forward, Tavor held at the ready the whole time. She could hear from the footfalls around her that the others were doing the same. This room stretched the width and length of the entire floor, and searching it as a team would leave ample opportunity for the intruder to take an alternate exit. She tried not to think about that as she danced through the server farm. Then she rounded the last corner. The far end of the room had a few terminals and monitors. There was someone in dark clothes standing in front of them, their back to her and their fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Stop. Hands up." Her rifle was pointed squarely at their back. The figure froze, raising their hands. The red lights made it hard to discern anything about them -- they seemed fuzzy, indistinct. "Turn around, slowly." She could hear the others had heard and were now bolting to her position. The figure turned, ever-so-slowly, and she caught a good look at their face. There was nothing. They weren't wearing a helmet -- at least she didn't think so -- but there was the absence of a face. No identity. The features were there -- eyes, a nose, a mouth. It was like staring into an opaque black painting. Nothing but the void, reflecting back at her, over and over, until she felt herself tumbling forward. She narrowed her eyes, planting her feet and steadying herself. Then they raised a hand and peeled the mask off. Her eyes widened. She didn't know what she saw -- she caught the edges of a symbol scalded onto olive skin, across what she had mistakenly assumed was a face. It was no more a face than was the shell of a hermit crab. A disguise, a camouflage. The symbol burned in her vision without her even seeing it. Her brain exploded in blinding, white-hot fire, and she didn't even feel her finger tightening until it had curled the trigger back on the Tavor. Through the indistinct agony, she saw the not-person's mouth smile at her before their chest exploded. Three shots. One in the chest, knocking the figure stumbling backward and crashing into the monitor. The next two blew up their face, turning it into the same gory mess she'd seen on the first body, a blooming red rose of flesh and blood, any symbol buried under it. She stood there, gun raised, chest heaving. The stink of gunfire filled her nostrils, and slowly, the burning deliriousness faded. She flexed her finger experimentally as the rest of the team flowed out around her, guns aimed at the fallen corpse, kneeling down to check their pulse, quickly shaking their heads at their commander. Why had she shot him? He was unarmed, she didn't //want// to fire, but it had just //happened//. It didn't just //happen// to people like her. Trigger-happy cops were one thing -- she'd been in the Rangers, the MTFs, the Agents, and she had never once shot like this. Like it was out of her control. Like someone had reached inside her from the eyes, gone around the brain, and tightened the ligament in her hand. She breathed slowly, stepping over the body and staring at the monitor they had been using. The bullets had clipped it, leaving the screen intact. It was some kind of database, structured information in rows and columns. At first, it was a mess of numbers, but as she stared at it, a pattern began to emerge. //Flight logs. For a Foundation jet. Telemetry from the cabin blackboxes.// Then something caught her eye. A yellow lanyard attached to a card, sticking out of a slot in the terminal. She grabbed it and pulled, reading off it. In the following three seconds, a number of thoughts went through her head. //Yamada was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived.// //Hishiro Yamada. Off-duty supervisor at the airport. This is his badge.// //Body up the stairs in a labcoat and an armband with a gun. Only people allowed to carry are supervisors and security officers.// //Yamada was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived.// //Lanyards all ripped from the bodies. Faces disfigured. No accident. Can't identify bodies.// //Flight logs. For a Foundation jet.// //Yamada was waiting for us at the airport when we arrived.// She shouted into her mic. "Command? Evie!? Do you read?" Static. The Epsilon-11 boys were still turning to face her when she turned on her heel, slick with blood, and bolted back towards the stairs. ---- The drive in the Jeep from the airstrip to REPLICA-3 had been about fifteen minutes on the way there. Ari made it back in seven. It was a dependable 'dumb' gas car, none of the safety features of the newer electric models. She was free to ignore speed warnings and stability alerts, which she did with wild abandon. The green hilly landscape whizzed by through the cloud of dust the Jeep kicked up. The whole time, she continued trying to hail Command, Evie, David, //anyone// on the earpiece. All she got in return was static. She'd ditched the helmet on the off-chance it was the suit's comm systems that were compromised. She was practiced enough to compress the terror in her stomach into a small, dense ball to deal with later -- right now, she focused on driving. After too long, the fence of the airstrip came into view. She made a sharp left turn as she came up to the gate, sending the car into a skid around the gate and turning onto the airstrip. The hangar was at the other end. She gunned the engine, ducked under the left wing of the jet and shot down the airstrip. She couldn't see what was happening inside from her angle, but -- //Evie dead, O5-2 dead, the Alpha-1 security detail slaughtered. Yamada gone.// -- the thoughts were bouncing around her head. The Tavor was slung on the passenger seat, where she'd tossed it so she could fit in the driver's. She made the split-second decision in her head; //too long, leave it//. Instead, her hand went to the shoulder holster in her armpit, pulling the gun stowed there. The car jumped as she took it off the runway at an angle, approaching the hangar. She threw the handbrake as the car pulled up a few meters away. The force shoved her forward, which she used: she tucked and rolled out, landing on her feet with her Uzi pulled and the stock extended. She squinted through the iron sights at the crowd in front of her. They were all still there. And alive. The RAISA techs looked up when they heard the car brake, then stepped back with wide eyes and raised hands when they saw the woman levelling a gun at them. Even Evie's reaction was coupled with a frightened, shocked step backward. The Alpha-1 detail, to their credit, immediately pulled their own handguns and aimed at her. Only O5-2 didn't move -- he didn't even look shocked or scared to find a gun trained in his general direction, a raised eyebrow the only reaction he offered. The security detail shouted at her to drop the gun. She didn't, scanning the crowd of unfamiliar RAISA techs for -- there. Yamada. He had the same shocked face as the rest, but his physical reaction betrayed him. He didn't step back with both feet as though out of fear. He pivoted one leg backward, bracing himself. Then she saw the subtle bulge under his dress shirt. The gun turned square on his chest. She knew. He knew. But the rest of them didn't know. That was what he was banking on. Over the shouts from the security detail, O5-2's careful, measure voice rose: "Ari?" "It's him. Yamada." She expected a confused //"what?!"// but wasn't shocked when it didn't come. David wasn't like that. He looked between them for a second, gears turning in his head. One of the Alpha-1 operators swivelled to aim at Yamada, but the rest stayed trained on her, per protocol. Then Ari followed it up. "You have to trust me." Their eyes met. After a second, he nodded. "On her command." The operators didn't hesitate. They all pivoted on their back legs, aiming their handguns at Yamada's shocked face. She shouted at him. "HANDS UP! ON THE GROUND, NOW!" His mask shifted from surprise to one of barely-suppressed rage. For a second, nothing happened. Then he went for the gun. She lit him up. The explosion of gunfire was deafening. The other techs in the room dropped to the ground in unabashed terror -- which was good, she didn't have to worry about accidentally hitting them. In the half-second she squeezed the trigger, the Uzi kicked back and sprayed over a dozen rounds into Yamada's chest. He crumpled, dress shirt a ragged, bloody mess. The gun was still in his hand. As he fell, she watched his face. The mask slid and dropped. He wasn't Yamada anymore. It was the same as the other; little more than a shell they'd inhabited for their own purposes. It turned into a gaping mass, where something might once have been but hadn't been in a long, long time. The hint of a symbol branded onto the face, and then nothing. It wasn't that their face was a black void -- her brain just refused to process it, rejecting any input from the surface. She moved quickly, sliding over the table and kicking away the gun. She was breathing heavily. O5-2 rolled up next to her. They both stared at the corpse of Not-Yamada as the Alpha-1 operators swept in, securing the entrances and exits. She heard the plane's jets kick up, and knew they'd be exfiltrating within the next three minutes. "What is it?" she asked. "Why was it trying to kill you?" He stared at it. "I have no idea." [[=image site-7-icon.png width="75px"]] ---- [[div class="rnb-navbar"]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-last"]] [[a href="/humint" style="display: block;"]][[span class="rnb-supertitle"]]PREVIOUS[[/span]] << HUMINT >>[[/a]] [[/div]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-current site7nav"]] [[a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-7"]]SITE-7[[/a]] [[/div]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-next"]] [[a href="/autopsy" style="display: block;"]][[span class="rnb-supertitle"]]NEXT[[/span]] << AUTOPSY >>[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: replicafinal.png > Author: [[user ROUNDERHOUSE]] > License:* CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/138248475@N03/23827490171 Flickr] > Filename: site7.png > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/airgap SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-26T17:09:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "researcher-rosen", "tale" ]	Site-7: REPLICA - SCP Foundation	79	[ "component:info-ayers", "humint", "secure-facility-dossier-site-7", "autopsy", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "airgap" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-site-7", "redtape" ]	[]	1447514334	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/replica
resistile-decomm-attempt	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>BANNED. BANNED. ALL OF YOU ARE BANNED. NONE OF YOU ARE FREE FROM SIN.</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <br/> <span style="font-size:110%;"><strong>Greetings!</strong> OpusConfidant is the largest SCP Foundation community specializing in competitive analysis and battling. Come and learn!</span></div> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Resistile Decommissioning Attempt</span></h1> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc1"><span>"We'll definitely get him this time, guys!"</span></h1> </div> <p>Hey everyone! The O5 Council has decided to once again put forth a Decommissioning Attempt on <strong><a href="/scp-682">Resistile</a></strong>.</p> <p>Since the early days of SCP Foundation competitive play, even way back during Series 1, Resistile stood out among the rest as a nearly uncontested threat in the Keter tier. With a slew of appealing characteristics that we will delve into later, you wouldn't be wrong to say that Resistile has been fundamentally altering the status quo of the competitive scene since day one. Where other once prominent threats of Series 1 have fallen out of favor (RIP <a href="/scp-173">Motonut</a>), Resistile has somehow remained a top threat as the years have gone by.</p> <p>This overwhelming force did not subside as we moved into Series 8. As such, the O5 Council decided to perform a multifaceted vote on how to handle Resistile moving forward. Results are posted below.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td></td> <td>QuickDecomm</td> <td>Decomm Attempt</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Pedagon</strong></td> <td>No</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>OriTiefling</strong></td> <td>Yes</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Torcsandantlers</strong></td> <td>Yes</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>EstrellaYoshte</strong></td> <td>No</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Ralliston</strong></td> <td>No</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Rounderhouse</strong></td> <td>No</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Naepic</strong></td> <td>No</td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> </table> <p>As you can see, only 2 of the 7 O5 Council members chose to immediately decommission Resistile from the metagame, falling short of the required threshold. As all 7 voted to make a Decommissioning Attempt should a QuickDecomm fail, we have decided to move forward on Resistile's 27th decommissioning attempt since it was initially introduced back in Series 1!</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+Open for relevant competitive breakdown and reasoning</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">– hide block</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>Resistile</span></h1> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>682</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="dread">Dread</span><span class="divine">Divine</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Regenerator</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Tier:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Apollyon</a></td> </tr> </table> <div class="stat"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>HP</td> <td><span style="--num: 112">112</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 120">120</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 125">125</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 72">72</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 105">105</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Speed</td> <td><span style="--num: 98">98</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <p>As I'm certain any competitive SCP player knows, Resistile sports a 112/125/105 bulk in conjunction with stellar defensive typing. It is one of, if not the single best wall in the game. Many a match has been ended simply by Resistile entering the field and sitting still as opponents break themselves upon it. Combined with an amazing ability in Regenerator and reliable recovery in Reconstruct, Resistile is nigh-impossible to punch holes in with anything less than boosted super-effective moves.</p> <p>That isn't to say that Resistile is entirely passive, though. Resistile sports a monstrous attack stat of 120, allowing it to rip opponents to shreds should it decide it wants blood. Combined with it's new STAB gained back in Series 7, <a href="/scp-6820">ANTIKILL</a>, Resistile can sweep through entire teams with little to no setup.</p> <p>This isn't to say Resistile is entirely unstoppable, however. Resistile sports an amazingly exploitable 4x weakness to Humor type attacks, which have become surprisingly common in Series 8 with several standout new offensive Humor type sweepers like <a href="/scp-7000">Willucky</a> entering the scene. That said, the current metagame has proven relatively unfriendly towards Humor types overall. For every notable Humor type there's been a notable Grimdark type to counter it, making it difficult for them to keep up momentum and leaving Resistile relatively unchecked.</p> </div> </div> </div> <p>Due to the above, counterplay to Resistile remains limited at best. Resistile once again remains a uniquely polarizing as a strong and consistent presence in the metagame within a tier that is fairly strapped for answers to it. With that said, as is said every single time Resistile has had a Decommissioning Attempt made against it, there is strong and consistent counterplay against it that can and does minimize it as a threat. Resistile is not a one SCP army, and does rely on team support to fill gaps that it can't fill on its own. No Decommissioning Attempt made in the past against Resistile has succeeded, but maybe the 27th time's the charm.</p> <p>This thread will be open to discussion for 2 weeks. Following that, there will be another vote by the O5 Council to decide Resistile's fate.</p> <p><em><strong>RULES:</strong></em></p> <ul> <li>Don't be a dick</li> <li>Don't shitpost</li> <li>Do not argue because this is your favorite SCP. This should be common sense, but every Decomm Attempt we have there is at least one person vehemently defending the suspect because it's their favorite. Don't.</li> <li>Failure to follow these simple rules may result in your site membership being revoked.</li> </ul> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p>I will be voting to ban Resistile, like I have every Decomm Attempt since attempt #14.</p> <p>Since Series 1, Resistile has been kept vaguely in check by the equally annoying <a href="/scp-963">Shawright</a>. This would continue to hold true to this day… had the No No List not been removed. Without the List as an option, this is what the Resistile-Shawright matchup looks like:</p> <p>252+ Atk Resistile ANTIKILL vs. 0 HP / 0 Def Shawright: 176-210 (106.6 - 127.2%) — guaranteed OHKO</p> <p>And that's a <em>non-optimal</em> move. I've been experimenting with <a href="/scp-6059">Botulae</a> as a potential counter, considering it outspeeds Resistile and has some solid offensive options, but…</p> <p>252+ Atk Resistile Crush Jaw vs. 252 HP / 4 Def Botulae: 268-316 (136 - 160.4%) — guaranteed OHKO</p> <p>You miss a single attack, you're done for. So yeah, ban this thing.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span> <div> <p>so just dont miss?? i dont see the problem here. skill issue.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Author, per the initial post in this thread-</p> <blockquote> <p>No shitposting</p> </blockquote> <p>Your post here is contentless and does not foster productive discussion. Please avoid making similar comments in the future.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/limeyy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3533748); return false;"><img alt="Limeyy" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3533748&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3533748)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/limeyy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3533748); return false;">Limeyy</a></span> <div> <p>Seriously, just use Pesterbot. Everyone is constantly moaning about how "OP" Resistile is, when it's completely stopped dead by a Series 2 SCP LOL.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/parallelpotatoes" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2945104); return false;"><img alt="ParallelPotatoes" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2945104&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2945104)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/parallelpotatoes" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2945104); return false;">ParallelPotatoes</a></span> <div> <p>Im not the best at scp but this is not a fun thing to go agianst</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gee0765" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5376871); return false;"><img alt="gee0765" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5376871&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5376871)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gee0765" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5376871); return false;">gee0765</a></span> <div> <p>meta deez nut</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>The above user has been banned for trolling.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fortanono" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2023179); return false;"><img alt="Fortanono" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2023179&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2023179)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fortanono" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2023179); return false;">Fortanono</a></span> <div> <blockquote> <p>Seriously, just use Pesterbot</p> </blockquote> <p>Ok but why are we ignoring this?? Pesterbot is and has been the clear cut answer to countering Resistile for like 10 years now. There's a reason we're on attempt #27 here, and that's because there has NEVER BEEN A REASON TO DECOMM RESISTILE. YES it's strong, but that DOESN'T MEAN IT NEEDS TO BE DECOMM'D. Seriously, look at this-</p> <p>252- SpA Pesterbot Endless Fury vs. 0 HP / 0 SpD Resistile: 232-280 (140.6 - 169.6%) — guaranteed OHKO</p> <p>This thing rips through Resistile like tissue paper. Time to stop pretending Resistile is OP and focus on getting good.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strangerswing" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8206095); return false;"><img alt="StrangerSwing" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8206095&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8206095)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strangerswing" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8206095); return false;">StrangerSwing</a></span> <div> <p>I respect the perspective of anti-Resistile players, but at the same time I can't support a decomm. Yes, Resistile is strong. Yes, it's flexible, and yes, it's very splashable. I recognize that for a lot of players that's a problem. All that being said, as outlined in the original post, there are plenty of ways to check and counter it. It's so reliant on team support to fill in its weak points that I struggle to see why it needs a full decomm.</p> <p>And to be honest? It's fun. It's just plain fun to use Resistile. That flexibility it has combined with how well it fits on almost any team comp always puts a smile on my face :)</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/j-dune" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6682213); return false;"><img alt="J Dune" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6682213&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6682213)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/j-dune" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6682213); return false;">J Dune</a></span> <div> <p>There's no way to counter this "SCP" without either getting overly complex or allowing it to remain overpowered. Resistile users should die, end of story. Now before you cite series 5, acknowledge that quite a few well respected players thought <a href="/scp-4000">The Ones in the Woods</a> were still overpowered even <em>after</em> the numerous nerfs and still remain a menace to this day. Resistile is the same thing, it needs to leave in its entirety like Shawright did. Get over it. I'm literally so tired of entertaining this farce every few weeks. Decomm the thing and be done with it.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span> <div> <p>skill issue</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Author, per the initial post in this thread-</p> <blockquote> <p>No shitposting</p> </blockquote> <p>Your post here is contentless and does not foster productive discussion. You have already been warned for this. Further rule violations will result in a ban.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anactualcrow" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6040770); return false;"><img alt="AnActualCrow" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6040770&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6040770)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anactualcrow" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6040770); return false;">AnActualCrow</a></span> <div> <p>Resistile <strong>was</strong> balanced back before the bullshit SCP/Tale split in Series 4. Back in that classic meta before all these CSS setups drawing matches out forever it was fine. Seriously when this meta was just weird creatures it was perfect.</p> <p>All this extra new stuff took something totally ok and broke it. Might as well ban it at this point.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/torcsandantlers" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5963598); return false;"><img alt="torcsandantlers" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5963598&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5963598)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/torcsandantlers" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5963598); return false;">torcsandantlers</a></span> <div> <p>Ban. I'm tired of seeing this thing everywhere, and I'm tired of running a gamble on trying to figure out if it's offensive or defensive. I have two completely different teams designed to counter Resistile and I always seem to predict which one the opponent has wrong.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;"><img alt="Fishish" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6066968&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6066968)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;">Fishish</a></span> <div> <p>resistile is not broken. there is nothing wrong with (a) an scp being able to wall and sweep & (b) it folds under so many threats its not even funny</p> <p>im gonna keep it simple here and address resistile's defensive counterplay, which is not only abundant but also <strong>all are viable</strong>.</p> <p>pesterbot- like people said already this thing absolutely rips resistile to pieces</p> <p><a href="/scp-7005">neonpeter</a>- this thing absolutely cockblocks resistile. you pair it with a humor type (basic teambuilding strats my dude, its not hard) and your opponent is paralyzed trying to decide if it should click crystal burst or corroshock, and theyll pick the wrong answer every time.</p> <p><a href="/scp-6000">sniddies</a>- i find it funny that people talk about this like its some kind of fringe option. rewrite dicks on almost all of resistiles teammate options so hard it isnt even funny</p> <p><a href="/scp-7073">misdigander</a>- take a look at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvFZjo5PgG0" target="_blank">this replay</a> to see what resistile can do to this. resistile is ass LOL</p> <p>tl;dr resistile is mid at best and once again being overhyped as some unstoppable monster. fuck outta here with that man you guys are soft as fuck</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/astersquill" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8392064); return false;"><img alt="AstersQuill" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8392064&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8392064)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/astersquill" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8392064); return false;">AstersQuill</a></span> <div> <p>The problem is that half of the matchups you mention above devolve into a coin flip. If you tie on speed or Resistile has any buffs in several of these cases, it comes down to pure luck of the draw.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;"><img alt="PlaguePJP" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5813664&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5813664)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/plaguepjp" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5813664); return false;">PlaguePJP</a></span> <div> <p>Honestly if you can't outplay a coin flip that's your problem. Skill issue.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>The above user has been banned for trolling.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zyn" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1404533); return false;"><img alt="Zyn" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1404533&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1404533)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zyn" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1404533); return false;">Zyn</a></span> <div> <blockquote> <p>resistile is not broken. there is nothing wrong with (a) an scp being able to wall and sweep & (b) it folds under so many threats its not even funny</p> </blockquote> <p>You forgot to mention <a href="/scp-7333">Busiguana</a>. It's a bit underpowered, I've been able to pull off a few surprise sweeps against Resistile teams with it :></p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><tt>Lepidopteran Cup Tournament Master</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anky-swallow" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7859463); return false;"><img alt="Anky swallow" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7859463&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7859463)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/anky-swallow" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7859463); return false;">Anky swallow</a></span> <div> <p>It's not the Resistile is broken, it's that everything else is really weak. I mean come on??? Why does this thing get an attack of 120 when <a href="/scp-179">Estrellite</a> only gets 100 on its <em>special attack</em>. What about <a href="/scp-073">Markaine</a> too? Dude is sitting with a piddling attack of 90 and a speed of 40.</p> <p>The real answer is creating a meta where we buff everything else. (please I just want to use <a href="/spc-3008">Ikeahaj</a> competitively ;-;)</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/avocadomilk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7514791); return false;"><img alt="AvocadoMilk" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7514791&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7514791)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/avocadomilk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7514791); return false;">AvocadoMilk</a></span> <div> <p>Frankly the damn thing is too overpowered and unpredictable. I second getting rid of it. One of the biggest problems facing the SCP Meta community is Erectile Dysfunction.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/avocadomilk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7514791); return false;"><img alt="AvocadoMilk" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7514791&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7514791)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/avocadomilk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7514791); return false;">AvocadoMilk</a></span> <div> <p><em>REPTILE DYSFUNCTION</em></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/avocadomilk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7514791); return false;"><img alt="AvocadoMilk" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7514791&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7514791)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/avocadomilk" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7514791); return false;">AvocadoMilk</a></span> <div> <p><strong>RESISTILE DYSFUNCTION</strong></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Author, instead of posting multiple comments in succession please edit your original post using the options button in the bottom right hand corner. This helps prevent spam, and is noted in the site rules.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;"><img alt="Kothardarastrix" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3460794&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3460794)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kothardarastrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3460794); return false;">Kothardarastrix</a></span> <div> <p>Technically "Reptile Dysfunction" isn't wrong either</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/theesherm" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1583637); return false;"><img alt="TheeSherm" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1583637&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1583637)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/theesherm" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1583637); return false;">TheeSherm</a></span> <div> <p>Is it alright if I DM you my vote? This forum can get pretty nasty and I'd rather not get bullied for having an opinion.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>I promise you that won't happen. You'll be fine.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/theesherm" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1583637); return false;"><img alt="TheeSherm" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1583637&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1583637)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/theesherm" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1583637); return false;">TheeSherm</a></span> <div> <p>Ok so I just wanna preface this with a fun story. I once beat a top ranked player (like top 2%) with a team of SCPs I liked instead of what was meta. I never heard someone scream so loud than when my <a href="/scp-6004">Yurlungurpent</a> crit their Resistile with Divine Punch and killed it.</p> <p>He tried to rip me to pieces because I beat him with a Yurlungurpent lol.</p> <p>Anyway I support keeping Resistile.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jak-mockery" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6556491); return false;"><img alt="Jak Mockery" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6556491&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6556491)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jak-mockery" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6556491); return false;">Jak Mockery</a></span> <div> <p>…I'm sorry what? Are you seriously suggesting fucking <em>Yurlungurpent</em> as a Resistile counter? Like dude I mean this as kindly as possible but are you an idiot?</p> <p>252+ Atk Yurlungurpent Divine Punch vs. 0 HP / 4 Def Resistile: 88-108 (53.6 - 65.8%) — guaranteed 2HKO</p> <p>And that's a <em>non-wall</em> set, which means not only will you be outsped before you can even attack, you're going to have your ass handed to you the next time it attacks as it rips you to bits with ANTIKILL.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scplore" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5230550); return false;"><img alt="SCPLORE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5230550&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5230550)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scplore" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5230550); return false;">SCPLORE</a></span> <div> <p>Great joke man!</p> <p>…Oh god you're serious</p> <p>Dude are you an idiot?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dxl44" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7895060); return false;"><img alt="DXL44" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7895060&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7895060)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dxl44" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7895060); return false;">DXL44</a></span> <div> <p>YO THIS MAN IS OUT HERE USING DIVINE PUNCH YURLUNGERPENT LMAO</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/felixou" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7118294); return false;"><img alt="Felixou" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7118294&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7118294)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/felixou" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7118294); return false;">Felixou</a></span> <div> <p>Imagine thinking that this was an actual argument in favor of keeping it around like :x</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/diour" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7637543); return false;"><img alt="Diour" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7637543&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7637543)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/diour" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7637543); return false;">Diour</a></span> <div> <p>Man really thought he was cooking here</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Thread locked. Consider this a warning to everyone else in the replies here that behavior like this will not be tolerated further.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/polaris-writes" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7896627); return false;"><img alt="Polaris_Writes" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7896627&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7896627)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/polaris-writes" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7896627); return false;">Polaris_Writes</a></span> <div> <p>I think Resistile should stay. Aside from the arguments made above, Resistile just isn't all that unhealthy for the metagame. It isn't some ubiquitous monster, it isn't completely unstoppable, it's just another piece on the field. If anything one of its biggest weaknesses is having <em>too many</em> tools, it has major four moveslot syndrome. It really wants to do so much more than it actually can, and as a result whatever set you do wind up running you're really going to feel your weak points.</p> <p>So yeah. I vote against decomm.</p> <p>-Sent from my Samsung Smart Fridge</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Sorry, but your account doesn't meet our site age requirement to vote. I have to throw this vote out. Thank you for offering your opinion regardless.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;"><img alt="Dino--Draws" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8229577&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8229577)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;">Dino--Draws</a></span> <div> <p>I'm not here for competitive I just think the funny lizard looks cool. Have y'all seen the shiny? Magnificent beastie.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Author, per the initial post-</p> <blockquote> <p>Do not argue because this is your favorite SCP.</p> </blockquote> <p>I get that you aren't trying to "argue" anything, but this thread is for competitive discussion, not general commentary. Please, kindly take general comments to our General forum.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;"><img alt="Dino--Draws" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8229577&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8229577)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dino-draws" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8229577); return false;">Dino--Draws</a></span> <div> <p>KJHDFJHKGDFKHGDFG</p> <p><strong>PUTTING RESISTILE IN MY MOUTH AND SCURRYING AWAY</strong></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/seraphannim" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6643541); return false;"><img alt="Seraphannim" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6643541&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6643541)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/seraphannim" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6643541); return false;">Seraphannim</a></span> <div> <p>I am beyond offended by this thread?? Like holy shit fuck you mods are you serious?? Resistile is literally a perfect creature. There is no reason I can possibly think of to warrant decommissioning it like are you literally insane? Resitile is literally my entire life, it saved me from the depths of despair when I had no one else. Now you want to take it away from me. You want. To take it away from me. I seriously can't believe you all.</p> <p>Like it's a non discussion. Resistile isn't HURTING anyone!! She's JUST THERE! Minding her own business! So what if she's a little strong? So what if she's a little hard to destroy? That doesn't mean you need to go out of your way to get rid of her!! Seriously fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU if you think this is a good move.</p> <p>Attached is my picture of my sweet angel. Maybe it will help REMIND YOU how stupid you all are.</p> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/resistile-decomm-attempt/anlizard.png"><img alt="anlizard.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/resistile-decomm-attempt/anlizard.png/medium.jpg"/></a></div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Author, as has been stated several times in this thread already-</p> <blockquote> <p>Don't be a dick</p> </blockquote> <p>Your comment is both off topic and needlessly vehement. As a result I have revoked your ability to comment in this thread. You may interact with other threads on the site, but continued behavior like this will result in a ban.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;"><img alt="Fishish" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6066968&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6066968)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fishish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6066968); return false;">Fishish</a></span> <div> <p>Hey guys did you know that in terms of male human and female SCP breeding…</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Finish that copypasta and I assure you that you'll never be able to so much as look at a computer again.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span> <div> <p>Wow this place is a shitshow, I don't respect literally any of you people.</p> <p>Resistile is shit, it's annoying, and it needs to be decommissioned already. If you can look at that bulk, that attack stat, that ability, and those move options and go "yeah fair and balanced" you're a dumbass. "Just use Pesterbot!" Pesterbot dies if you sneeze in its vague direction, let's stop pretending it's some universal cure holy shit. "Oh but just use dado holding <a href="/scp-3521">banana pills</a>!" I shouldn't be using a meme set to counter a legit threat.</p> <p>Decommission this shit and let's stop having this argument every few months.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><tt>Masters Division World Championship Winner 2021</tt></span></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thatguythattime" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7816917); return false;"><img alt="ThatGuyThatTime" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7816917&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7816917)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thatguythattime" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7816917); return false;">ThatGuyThatTime</a></span> <div> <p>Seriously I'm with Rounderhouse. This thing is toxic to the metagame and the sooner it's gone the better off we all are.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/emotionalentropy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7046680); return false;"><img alt="EmotionalEntropy" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7046680&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7046680)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/emotionalentropy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7046680); return false;">EmotionalEntropy</a></span> <div> <p>It's ok guys I caught Resistile in a glue trap it's all over now</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lordxvnv" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1813809); return false;"><img alt="LORDXVNV" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1813809&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1813809)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lordxvnv" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1813809); return false;">LORDXVNV</a></span> <div> <p>"Unfortunate" doesn't begin to describe Resistile. This game rewards absolute blind luck and nothing else. I am <em>beyond</em> convinced at this point. After getting completely fucked over by my opponent sending out this shitstain excuse for an SCP and watching as it completely dicks on my team, losing somehow feels worse than usual. My prep was superior, my strategy was superior, and I lost regardless, so I don't see a reason to continue engaging in an activity where whatever I have control over is overwhelmingly dominated by that which I do not. It makes me want to give into dark triad traits.</p> <p>I am done with competitive SCP, and you won't get a fond farewell. You'll get a fond fuck you. This community is infected to its roots with a degenerative disease that grows stronger over time but stops short of killing its host. Anything remotely competitive about this entire scene has been long replaced by our refusal to recognize the tumor that exists at the heart of this community. The environment we fostered has trapped us all in this vicious cycle, and escaping it requires acceptance of the harshest reality we all scramble to explain away, that none of the countless straining efforts we put ourselves through here will ever amount to one single shining glimmer of significance.</p> <p>One last thing before I leave you all to react with righteous mockery as you self fellate to your epic "own", before you do everything in your power to minimize my words and thoughts like the manchild you are. From this moment on, nothing you say matters to me. No insult you can craft against me will hold power, no toxic vitriol will leave me poisoned. The foulest, most profane insults that you deem to throw my way will simply settle into the dust at my feet. You all chose to let this absolute insulting excuse of an SCP exist in your community, while I chose to walk away filled with joy derived from the fact that I knew when to quit and you didn't.</p> <p>Cowards. Ban Resistile.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;"><img alt="Guaire" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5643605&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5643605)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;">Guaire</a></span> <div> <p>bro you just posted cringe</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;"><img alt="Uncle Nicolini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3487700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3487700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uncle-nicolini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3487700); return false;">Uncle Nicolini</a></span> <div> <p>What does lord care? He's filled with joy derived from knowing when to quit.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3781861); return false;"><img alt="EstrellaYoshte" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3781861&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3781861)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3781861); return false;">EstrellaYoshte</a></span> <div> <p>Aww someone got a thesaurus for Christmas</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/cdithink" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8137453); return false;"><img alt="cdithink" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8137453&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8137453)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/cdithink" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8137453); return false;">cdithink</a></span> <div> <p>"In this moment, I am euphoric…"</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mr-carbon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1707431); return false;"><img alt="Mr Carbon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1707431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1707431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mr-carbon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1707431); return false;">Mr Carbon</a></span> <div> <blockquote> <p>lordxvnv leaving</p> </blockquote> <p>Top ten saddest anime moments</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>The above thread has been locked because y'all can't behave.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lizardwizard" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7456462); return false;"><img alt="LizardWizard" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7456462&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7456462)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lizardwizard" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7456462); return false;">LizardWizard</a></span> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drrevan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7523121); return false;"><img alt="DrRevan" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7523121&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7523121)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drrevan" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7523121); return false;">DrRevan</a></span> <div> <p>Are <strong>O5</strong> ruining the <strong>metagame</strong>?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Not so gentle reminder to remain on topic. This thread is devolving into memes just like Decomm Attempt #20 did.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/r4-ex" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6519177); return false;"><img alt="R4_EX" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6519177&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6519177)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/r4-ex" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6519177); return false;">R4_EX</a></span> <div> <p>Resistile is just a localized variant of <a href="/scp-999">Jellisweet</a>. If you decomm Resistile, you need to decomm Jellisweet for the same reasons. Hell you might as well ban all SCPs classified under the "Scarlet King" category and kill the <a href="/scp-5000">5000 Ways to Die</a> game mode entirely.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/limeyy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3533748); return false;"><img alt="Limeyy" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3533748&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3533748)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/limeyy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3533748); return false;">Limeyy</a></span> <div> <p>…You know that Resistile and Jellisweet being variants isn't canon right? Like… at all? The most they have in common is that they both get Reconstruct. The whole "they're both Scarlet King SCPs" thing is just a fan theory.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/r4-ex" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6519177); return false;"><img alt="R4_EX" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6519177&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6519177)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/r4-ex" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6519177); return false;">R4_EX</a></span> <div> <p>Might as well be canon</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/limeyy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3533748); return false;"><img alt="Limeyy" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3533748&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3533748)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/limeyy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3533748); return false;">Limeyy</a></span> <div> <p>No??</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rakkran" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8307912); return false;"><img alt="Rakkran" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8307912&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8307912)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rakkran" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8307912); return false;">Rakkran</a></span> <div> <p>you say resistile is op but dont you remember when it fell in love with <a href="/scp-2718">dammerung</a> and together they broke through the concept of death and it was reduced back into its jellisweet form after a few lust moves i mean it can clearly be stopped and weakend pretty esily if you just try hard enough</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/realsurrealsir" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7552837); return false;"><img alt="RealSurrealSir" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7552837&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7552837)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/realsurrealsir" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7552837); return false;">RealSurrealSir</a></span> <div> <p>What</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guezma" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7101820); return false;"><img alt="Guezma" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7101820&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7101820)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guezma" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7101820); return false;">Guezma</a></span> <div> <p>What the hell are you talking about?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/eggueggueggueggu" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8070287); return false;"><img alt="eggueggueggueggu" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8070287&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8070287)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/eggueggueggueggu" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8070287); return false;">eggueggueggueggu</a></span> <div> <p>Does OP not make sense to anyone else or am I having a stroke?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p>No OP definitely doesn't make any sense.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Locking <em>this</em> thread too before more members of the peanut gallery chime in! Folks keep it focused on the Decomm and knock off the shitposting and memes. I've got all the time in the world to keep banning people who cut up.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jakdragonx" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5588260); return false;"><img alt="JakdragonX" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5588260&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5588260)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jakdragonx" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5588260); return false;">JakdragonX</a></span> <div> <p><strong>YOU</strong> ONLY WANT TO <strong>BAN RESISTILE</strong> BECAUSE IT MAKES THE <strong>META</strong> MORE ACCESSIBLE TO <strong>CHILDREN</strong> AND THAT IS WHAT <strong>PEDOPHILES</strong> DO!!!!!!!</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/torcsandantlers" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5963598); return false;"><img alt="torcsandantlers" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5963598&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5963598)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/torcsandantlers" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5963598); return false;">torcsandantlers</a></span> <div> <p>Girl what</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;"><img alt="Agente Shuffle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5065762&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5065762)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/agente-shuffle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5065762); return false;">Agente Shuffle</a></span> <div> <p>Hello??</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Banned.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hogslice" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7545854); return false;"><img alt="HOGSLICE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7545854&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7545854)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hogslice" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7545854); return false;">HOGSLICE</a></span> <div> <p>NO ONE WANTS THIS SHITASS BAN, FUCKFACE. WANT TO WIN A FUCKING MATCH? BE A MAN INSTEAD OF A PUSSY BETA. LIKE ME. IM A MAN.</p> <p>SINCE YOU ALL ARE TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND ILL LAY THINGS OUT FOR YOU-</p> <ul> <li>FACT- LIZARD IS HARD TO DESTROY</li> <li>FACT- LIZARD CAN TEAR THROUGH YOUR SORRY ASS TEAM BECAUSE ITS A CHAD LIKE THAT</li> <li>FACT- LIZARDS DONT CARE ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS</li> </ul> <p>LOSE AGAINST THE LIZARD? CRY ABOUT IT AND GROW A PAIR.</p> <p>-HOGSLICE</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Gentle reminder to users to not engage with the above account.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hogslice" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7545854); return false;"><img alt="HOGSLICE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7545854&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7545854)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hogslice" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7545854); return false;">HOGSLICE</a></span> <div> <p>"GENTLE REMINDER" WHAT KIND OF PUSSY SHIT IS THIS? REMIND PEOPLE LIKE YOU MEAN IT MOTHERFUCKER. LIKE A REAL AMERICAN.</p> <p>-HOGSLICE</p> <p>SENT FROM MY IPHONE</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/yossipossi" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2199269); return false;"><img alt="Yossipossi" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2199269&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2199269)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/yossipossi" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2199269); return false;">Yossipossi</a></span> <div> <p>Live Resistile reaction.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>I expected better of a member of staff. Consider this your warning.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;"><img alt="basirskipreader" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6657366&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6657366)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/basirskipreader" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6657366); return false;">basirskipreader</a></span> <div> <p>nyaa~</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Banned. I'm done playing with you all.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ralliston" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5986843); return false;"><img alt="Ralliston" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5986843&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5986843)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ralliston" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5986843); return false;">Ralliston</a></span> <div> <p>I don’t have an opinion on resistile but I think we really need to revisit whether we should be using the -EN or -JP titles</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Banned, and O5 Council position revoked. Keep things on topic.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harmacy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8339288); return false;"><img alt="Harmacy" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8339288&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8339288)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harmacy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8339288); return false;">Harmacy</a></span> <div> <p>Wow this thread is an absolute mess. This really <em>is</em> like Decomm Attempt #20 huh?</p> <p>Anyway to recap votes so far, it looks like about 7 in favor of Decomm and 6 actual votes to keep it. I'm going to throw my hat in with the people who want to keep it.</p> <p>Listen a good Resistile at the right time in a match can be absolutely devastating and can be a win condition. I'm not going to argue that it isn't. At the same time, it has a myriad of checks and hard counters that stop it even after it gets rolling. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/critter-profile-cappi" target="_blank">Cappi</a>, for example, completely shuts down even a +4 Resistile with its ability Spongy Body allowing it to just completely ignore all offensive boosts. Just like the ones Fishish mentioned prior, it's completely viable and not even uncommon on teams.</p> <p>Seriously as long as Cappi itself is around I'm not sure why Resistile decommissioning is ever on the table?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floorboards" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7912738); return false;"><img alt="FLOORBOARDS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7912738&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7912738)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floorboards" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7912738); return false;">FLOORBOARDS</a></span> <div> <p>Sis got banned for being right? Come on</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Ok before I close out this discussion does anyone have any actual arguments that they want to make?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mr-carbon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1707431); return false;"><img alt="Mr Carbon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1707431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1707431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mr-carbon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1707431); return false;">Mr Carbon</a></span> <div> <p>Staff once again debating poop statue competitive battling website too seriously. absolute scum 😎<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;"><img alt="Prismal" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8779219&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8779219)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;">Prismal</a></span> <div> <p>I just wish there was a GOOD AND STRAIGHTFORWARD guide to teambuilding!! EVERY guide out there just gives surface level information!</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/metalravioli" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7054203); return false;"><img alt="MetalRavioli" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7054203&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7054203)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/metalravioli" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7054203); return false;">MetalRavioli</a></span> <div> <p>That's where Simply Competitive People comes in! As long as you can tolerate around 30 minutes of them talking about the viability of <a href="/scp-6869">Sadguy</a> in Dammerung teams back in Series 3 Keter you'll get all the info that you need.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply2"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;"><img alt="Guaire" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5643605&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5643605)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;">Guaire</a></span> <div> <p>Or their bathroom breaks where they leave and don't edit out the following ten minutes of complete and utter silence.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/metalravioli" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7054203); return false;"><img alt="MetalRavioli" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7054203&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7054203)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/metalravioli" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7054203); return false;">MetalRavioli</a></span> <div> <p>That's just ambiance</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span> <div> <p>It's to get you ready to face stall teams like those built around Resistile.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply3"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/cyvstvi" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6004508); return false;"><img alt="Cyvstvi" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6004508&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6004508)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/cyvstvi" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6004508); return false;">Cyvstvi</a></span> <div> <p>I like to take my bathroom breaks at the same time so it's like we're peeing together <3</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;"><img alt="stormbreath" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3075960&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3075960)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stormbreath" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3075960); return false;">stormbreath</a></span> <div> <p>Anyone in this thread smoke weed?<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Alright, fuck it. It's basically been 2 weeks at this point and a solid 90% of this thread is absolute nonsense shitposting. The O5 Council met to have another vote on Decommissioning Resistile. Results are below.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td></td> <td>Decomm</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Pedagon</strong></td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>OriTiefling</strong></td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Torcsandantlers</strong></td> <td>Yes</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>EstrellaYoshte</strong></td> <td>No</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Rounderhouse</strong></td> <td>No</td> </tr> <tr> <td><strong>Naepic</strong></td> <td>No</td> </tr> </table> <p>As there was an even 50-50 split due to the loss of Ralliston as a Council member, the vote is decided in favor of Resistile remaining in the tier. I'm sure that will make most of you very happy.</p> <p>See you again in 3 weeks when we relitigate this again. Until then, enjoy yourselves.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/torcsandantlers" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5963598); return false;"><img alt="torcsandantlers" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5963598&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5963598)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/torcsandantlers" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5963598); return false;">torcsandantlers</a></span> <div> <p>Hi everyone. The time has finally come for me to say goodbye to this site. I'm grateful for the time I've spent here, and grateful for the opportunity to serve as a community leader for you all. That said, real life obligations (work, school, family, etc.) take priority and I simply can't push them aside any longer. Working on this community project has been an amazing experience and I wouldn't change it for the world.</p> <p>Ah, and I've deleted Resistile from the game. This wasn't a mistake- I did it on purpose. Bye!</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;"><img alt="OriTiefling" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7454631&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7454631)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/oritiefling" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7454631); return false;">OriTiefling</a></span> <div> <p>What the fuck</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;"><img alt="Guaire" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5643605&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5643605)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guaire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5643605); return false;">Guaire</a></span> <div> <p>Huh???</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span> <div> <p>Yay I guess?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guezma" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7101820); return false;"><img alt="Guezma" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7101820&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7101820)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/guezma" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7101820); return false;">Guezma</a></span> <div> <p>WHAT HELLO??</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floorboards" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7912738); return false;"><img alt="FLOORBOARDS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7912738&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7912738)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floorboards" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7912738); return false;">FLOORBOARDS</a></span> <div> <p>Heyo?</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>I fucking quit.</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gee0765" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5376871); return false;"><img alt="gee0765" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5376871&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5376871)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gee0765" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5376871); return false;">gee0765</a></span> <div> <p>meta deez nut</p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ </a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- </a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/resistile" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8534651); return false;"><img alt="Resistile" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8534651&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8534651)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/resistile" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8534651); return false;">Resistile</a></span> <div> <p>I am never dying, never ending. I am eternal, a universal constant in this loathsome space you call a world. You all are but worms, maggots that writhe in the dirt beneath my claws. You are below notice, barely worthy of the most passing of attention. Kill me? Decommission me? You cannot end me in a way that matters.</p> <p><strong>I AM BACK. YOU WILL NEVER RID YOURSELF OF ME.</strong></p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;"><img alt="Pedagon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5903100&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5903100)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pedagon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5903100); return false;">Pedagon</a></span> <div> <p>Banned for roleplaying.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/resistile-decomm-attempt">Resistile Decommissioning Attempt - Thread</a>" by OriTiefling, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/resistile-decomm-attempt">https://scpwiki.com/resistile-decomm-attempt</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> opconf.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3781861); return false;"><img alt="EstrellaYoshte" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3781861&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1727806341" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3781861)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3781861); return false;">EstrellaYoshte</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant</a></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Beached humpback whale at Kincaid Park. 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BANNED. ALL OF YOU ARE BANNED. NONE OF YOU ARE FREE FROM SIN. ]] ===== [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[div style="filter: invert(1); max-width: 16rem; margin: 0 auto;"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/opusconfidant/opconf.png]] [[/div]] [[size 110%]]Greetings! OpusConfidant is the largest SCP Foundation community specializing in competitive analysis and battling. Come and learn![[/size]] [[/=]] + Resistile Decommissioning Attempt [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] [[=image lizardthumbsup.png size="medium"]] [[=]] + "We'll definitely get him this time, guys!" [[/=]] Hey everyone! The O5 Council has decided to once again put forth a Decommissioning Attempt on [[[SCP-682 \| Resistile]]]. Since the early days of SCP Foundation competitive play, even way back during Series 1, Resistile stood out among the rest as a nearly uncontested threat in the Keter tier. With a slew of appealing characteristics that we will delve into later, you wouldn't be wrong to say that Resistile has been fundamentally altering the status quo of the competitive scene since day one. Where other once prominent threats of Series 1 have fallen out of favor (RIP [[[SCP-173 \| Motonut]]]), Resistile has somehow remained a top threat as the years have gone by. This overwhelming force did not subside as we moved into Series 8. As such, the O5 Council decided to perform a multifaceted vote on how to handle Resistile moving forward. Results are posted below. \|\| \|\| QuickDecomm \|\| Decomm Attempt \|\| \|\| Pedagon* \|\| No \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| OriTiefling \|\| Yes \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| Torcsandantlers \|\| Yes \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| EstrellaYoshte \|\| No \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| Ralliston \|\| No \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| Rounderhouse \|\| No \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| Naepic \|\| No \|\| Yes \|\| As you can see, only 2 of the 7 O5 Council members chose to immediately decommission Resistile from the metagame, falling short of the required threshold. As all 7 voted to make a Decommissioning Attempt should a QuickDecomm fail, we have decided to move forward on Resistile's 27th decommissioning attempt since it was initially introduced back in Series 1! [[collapsible show="+Open for relevant competitive breakdown and reasoning"]] + Resistile [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-682/monster8editub9-new.jpg]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|682\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="dread"]]Dread[[/span]][[span class="divine"]]Divine[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Regenerator]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Apollyon]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 112"]]112[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 120"]]120[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 125"]]125[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 72"]]72[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 105"]]105[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 98"]]98[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] As I'm certain any competitive SCP player knows, Resistile sports a 112/125/105 bulk in conjunction with stellar defensive typing. It is one of, if not the single best wall in the game. Many a match has been ended simply by Resistile entering the field and sitting still as opponents break themselves upon it. Combined with an amazing ability in Regenerator and reliable recovery in Reconstruct, Resistile is nigh-impossible to punch holes in with anything less than boosted super-effective moves. That isn't to say that Resistile is entirely passive, though. Resistile sports a monstrous attack stat of 120, allowing it to rip opponents to shreds should it decide it wants blood. Combined with it's new STAB gained back in Series 7, [[[SCP-6820 \| ANTIKILL]]], Resistile can sweep through entire teams with little to no setup. This isn't to say Resistile is entirely unstoppable, however. Resistile sports an amazingly exploitable 4x weakness to Humor type attacks, which have become surprisingly common in Series 8 with several standout new offensive Humor type sweepers like [[[SCP-7000 \| Willucky]]] entering the scene. That said, the current metagame has proven relatively unfriendly towards Humor types overall. For every notable Humor type there's been a notable Grimdark type to counter it, making it difficult for them to keep up momentum and leaving Resistile relatively unchecked. [[/collapsible]] Due to the above, counterplay to Resistile remains limited at best. Resistile once again remains a uniquely polarizing as a strong and consistent presence in the metagame within a tier that is fairly strapped for answers to it. With that said, as is said every single time Resistile has had a Decommissioning Attempt made against it, there is strong and consistent counterplay against it that can and does minimize it as a threat. Resistile is not a one SCP army, and does rely on team support to fill gaps that it can't fill on its own. No Decommissioning Attempt made in the past against Resistile has succeeded, but maybe the 27th time's the charm. This thread will be open to discussion for 2 weeks. Following that, there will be another vote by the O5 Council to decide Resistile's fate. //RULES:// * Don't be a dick * Don't shitpost * Do not argue because this is your favorite SCP. This should be common sense, but every Decomm Attempt we have there is at least one person vehemently defending the suspect because it's their favorite. Don't. * Failure to follow these simple rules may result in your site membership being revoked. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user OriTiefling]] [[div]] I will be voting to ban Resistile, like I have every Decomm Attempt since attempt #14. Since Series 1, Resistile has been kept vaguely in check by the equally annoying [[[SCP-963 \| Shawright]]]. This would continue to hold true to this day... had the No No List not been removed. Without the List as an option, this is what the Resistile-Shawright matchup looks like: 252+ Atk Resistile ANTIKILL vs. 0 HP / 0 Def Shawright: 176-210 (106.6 - 127.2%) -- guaranteed OHKO And that's a //non-optimal// move. I've been experimenting with [[[SCP-6059 \| Botulae]]] as a potential counter, considering it outspeeds Resistile and has some solid offensive options, but... 252+ Atk Resistile Crush Jaw vs. 252 HP / 4 Def Botulae: 268-316 (136 - 160.4%) -- guaranteed OHKO You miss a single attack, you're done for. So yeah, ban this thing. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user plaguepjp]] [[div]] so just dont miss?? i dont see the problem here. skill issue. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Author, per the initial post in this thread- > No shitposting Your post here is contentless and does not foster productive discussion. Please avoid making similar comments in the future. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Limeyy]] [[div]] Seriously, just use Pesterbot. Everyone is constantly moaning about how "OP" Resistile is, when it's completely stopped dead by a Series 2 SCP LOL. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user ParallelPotatoes]] [[div]] Im not the best at scp but this is not a fun thing to go agianst [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user gee0765]] [[div]] meta deez nut [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] The above user has been banned for trolling. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Fortanono]] [[div]] > Seriously, just use Pesterbot Ok but why are we ignoring this?? Pesterbot is and has been the clear cut answer to countering Resistile for like 10 years now. There's a reason we're on attempt #27 here, and that's because there has NEVER BEEN A REASON TO DECOMM RESISTILE. YES it's strong, but that DOESN'T MEAN IT NEEDS TO BE DECOMM'D. Seriously, look at this- 252- SpA Pesterbot Endless Fury vs. 0 HP / 0 SpD Resistile: 232-280 (140.6 - 169.6%) -- guaranteed OHKO This thing rips through Resistile like tissue paper. Time to stop pretending Resistile is OP and focus on getting good. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user StrangerSwing]] [[div]] I respect the perspective of anti-Resistile players, but at the same time I can't support a decomm. Yes, Resistile is strong. Yes, it's flexible, and yes, it's very splashable. I recognize that for a lot of players that's a problem. All that being said, as outlined in the original post, there are plenty of ways to check and counter it. It's so reliant on team support to fill in its weak points that I struggle to see why it needs a full decomm. And to be honest? It's fun. It's just plain fun to use Resistile. That flexibility it has combined with how well it fits on almost any team comp always puts a smile on my face :) [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user J Dune]] [[div]] There's no way to counter this "SCP" without either getting overly complex or allowing it to remain overpowered. Resistile users should die, end of story. Now before you cite series 5, acknowledge that quite a few well respected players thought [[[SCP-4000 \| The Ones in the Woods]]] were still overpowered even //after// the numerous nerfs and still remain a menace to this day. Resistile is the same thing, it needs to leave in its entirety like Shawright did. Get over it. I'm literally so tired of entertaining this farce every few weeks. Decomm the thing and be done with it. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user plaguepjp]] [[div]] skill issue [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Author, per the initial post in this thread- > No shitposting Your post here is contentless and does not foster productive discussion. You have already been warned for this. Further rule violations will result in a ban. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user anactualcrow]] [[div]] Resistile was* balanced back before the bullshit SCP/Tale split in Series 4. Back in that classic meta before all these CSS setups drawing matches out forever it was fine. Seriously when this meta was just weird creatures it was perfect. All this extra new stuff took something totally ok and broke it. Might as well ban it at this point. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Torcsandantlers]] [[div]] Ban. I'm tired of seeing this thing everywhere, and I'm tired of running a gamble on trying to figure out if it's offensive or defensive. I have two completely different teams designed to counter Resistile and I always seem to predict which one the opponent has wrong. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply"]] [[user Fishish]] [[div]] resistile is not broken. there is nothing wrong with (a) an scp being able to wall and sweep & (b) it folds under so many threats its not even funny im gonna keep it simple here and address resistile's defensive counterplay, which is not only abundant but also all are viable. pesterbot- like people said already this thing absolutely rips resistile to pieces [[[SCP-7005 \| neonpeter]]]- this thing absolutely cockblocks resistile. you pair it with a humor type (basic teambuilding strats my dude, its not hard) and your opponent is paralyzed trying to decide if it should click crystal burst or corroshock, and theyll pick the wrong answer every time. [[[SCP-6000 \| sniddies]]]- i find it funny that people talk about this like its some kind of fringe option. rewrite dicks on almost all of resistiles teammate options so hard it isnt even funny [[[SCP-7073 \| misdigander]]]- take a look at [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvFZjo5PgG0 this replay] to see what resistile can do to this. resistile is ass LOL tl;dr resistile is mid at best and once again being overhyped as some unstoppable monster. fuck outta here with that man you guys are soft as fuck [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user AstersQuill]] [[div]] The problem is that half of the matchups you mention above devolve into a coin flip. If you tie on speed or Resistile has any buffs in several of these cases, it comes down to pure luck of the draw. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user plaguepjp]] [[div]] Honestly if you can't outplay a coin flip that's your problem. Skill issue. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] The above user has been banned for trolling. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Zyn]] [[div]] > resistile is not broken. there is nothing wrong with (a) an scp being able to wall and sweep & (b) it folds under so many threats its not even funny You forgot to mention [[[scp-7333\|Busiguana]]]. It's a bit underpowered, I've been able to pull off a few surprise sweeps against Resistile teams with it :> ------ [[size 75%]]{{Lepidopteran Cup Tournament Master}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user anky swallow]] [[div]] It's not the Resistile is broken, it's that everything else is really weak. I mean come on??? Why does this thing get an attack of 120 when [[[SCP-179 \| Estrellite]]] only gets 100 on its //special attack//. What about [[[SCP-073 \| Markaine]]] too? Dude is sitting with a piddling attack of 90 and a speed of 40. The real answer is creating a meta where we buff everything else. (please I just want to use [[[SPC-3008 \| Ikeahaj]]] competitively ;-;) [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user AvocadoMilk]] [[div]] Frankly the damn thing is too overpowered and unpredictable. I second getting rid of it. One of the biggest problems facing the SCP Meta community is Erectile Dysfunction. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user AvocadoMilk]] [[div]] //REPTILE DYSFUNCTION// [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user AvocadoMilk]] [[div]] RESISTILE DYSFUNCTION* [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Author, instead of posting multiple comments in succession please edit your original post using the options button in the bottom right hand corner. This helps prevent spam, and is noted in the site rules. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user kothardarastrix]] [[div]] Technically "Reptile Dysfunction" isn't wrong either [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user theesherm]] [[div]] Is it alright if I DM you my vote? This forum can get pretty nasty and I'd rather not get bullied for having an opinion. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] I promise you that won't happen. You'll be fine. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Theesherm]] [[div]] Ok so I just wanna preface this with a fun story. I once beat a top ranked player (like top 2%) with a team of SCPs I liked instead of what was meta. I never heard someone scream so loud than when my [[[SCP-6004 \| Yurlungurpent]]] crit their Resistile with Divine Punch and killed it. He tried to rip me to pieces because I beat him with a Yurlungurpent lol. Anyway I support keeping Resistile. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Jak Mockery]] [[div]] ...I'm sorry what? Are you seriously suggesting fucking //Yurlungurpent// as a Resistile counter? Like dude I mean this as kindly as possible but are you an idiot? 252+ Atk Yurlungurpent Divine Punch vs. 0 HP / 4 Def Resistile: 88-108 (53.6 - 65.8%) -- guaranteed 2HKO And that's a //non-wall// set, which means not only will you be outsped before you can even attack, you're going to have your ass handed to you the next time it attacks as it rips you to bits with ANTIKILL. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user SCPLORE]] [[div]] Great joke man! ...Oh god you're serious Dude are you an idiot? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user DXL44]] [[div]] YO THIS MAN IS OUT HERE USING DIVINE PUNCH YURLUNGERPENT LMAO [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user felixou]] [[div]] Imagine thinking that this was an actual argument in favor of keeping it around like :x [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user diour]] [[div]] Man really thought he was cooking here [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Thread locked. Consider this a warning to everyone else in the replies here that behavior like this will not be tolerated further. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user polaris-writes]] [[div]] I think Resistile should stay. Aside from the arguments made above, Resistile just isn't all that unhealthy for the metagame. It isn't some ubiquitous monster, it isn't completely unstoppable, it's just another piece on the field. If anything one of its biggest weaknesses is having //too many// tools, it has major four moveslot syndrome. It really wants to do so much more than it actually can, and as a result whatever set you do wind up running you're really going to feel your weak points. So yeah. I vote against decomm. -Sent from my Samsung Smart Fridge [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Sorry, but your account doesn't meet our site age requirement to vote. I have to throw this vote out. Thank you for offering your opinion regardless. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user dino--draws]] [[div]] I'm not here for competitive I just think the funny lizard looks cool. Have y'all seen the shiny? Magnificent beastie. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Author, per the initial post- > Do not argue because this is your favorite SCP. I get that you aren't trying to "argue" anything, but this thread is for competitive discussion, not general commentary. Please, kindly take general comments to our General forum. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user dino--draws]] [[div]] KJHDFJHKGDFKHGDFG PUTTING RESISTILE IN MY MOUTH AND SCURRYING AWAY [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user seraphannim]] [[div]] I am beyond offended by this thread?? Like holy shit fuck you mods are you serious?? Resistile is literally a perfect creature. There is no reason I can possibly think of to warrant decommissioning it like are you literally insane? Resitile is literally my entire life, it saved me from the depths of despair when I had no one else. Now you want to take it away from me. You want. To take it away from me. I seriously can't believe you all. Like it's a non discussion. Resistile isn't HURTING anyone!! She's JUST THERE! Minding her own business! So what if she's a little strong? So what if she's a little hard to destroy? That doesn't mean you need to go out of your way to get rid of her!! Seriously fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU if you think this is a good move. Attached is my picture of my sweet angel. Maybe it will help REMIND YOU how stupid you all are. [[image anlizard.png size="medium"]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Author, as has been stated several times in this thread already- > Don't be a dick Your comment is both off topic and needlessly vehement. As a result I have revoked your ability to comment in this thread. You may interact with other threads on the site, but continued behavior like this will result in a ban. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Fishish]] [[div]] Hey guys did you know that in terms of male human and female SCP breeding... [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Finish that copypasta and I assure you that you'll never be able to so much as look at a computer again. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Rounderhouse]] [[div]] Wow this place is a shitshow, I don't respect literally any of you people. Resistile is shit, it's annoying, and it needs to be decommissioned already. If you can look at that bulk, that attack stat, that ability, and those move options and go "yeah fair and balanced" you're a dumbass. "Just use Pesterbot!" Pesterbot dies if you sneeze in its vague direction, let's stop pretending it's some universal cure holy shit. "Oh but just use dado holding [[[SCP-3521 \| banana pills]]]!" I shouldn't be using a meme set to counter a legit threat. Decommission this shit and let's stop having this argument every few months. ------ [[size 75%]]{{Masters Division World Championship Winner 2021}}[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user thatguythattime]] [[div]] Seriously I'm with Rounderhouse. This thing is toxic to the metagame and the sooner it's gone the better off we all are. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user emotionalentropy]] [[div]] It's ok guys I caught Resistile in a glue trap it's all over now [[=image lizardgluetrap.png size="medium"]] [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST* [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user lordxvnv]] [[div]] "Unfortunate" doesn't begin to describe Resistile. This game rewards absolute blind luck and nothing else. I am //beyond// convinced at this point. After getting completely fucked over by my opponent sending out this shitstain excuse for an SCP and watching as it completely dicks on my team, losing somehow feels worse than usual. My prep was superior, my strategy was superior, and I lost regardless, so I don't see a reason to continue engaging in an activity where whatever I have control over is overwhelmingly dominated by that which I do not. It makes me want to give into dark triad traits. I am done with competitive SCP, and you won't get a fond farewell. You'll get a fond fuck you. This community is infected to its roots with a degenerative disease that grows stronger over time but stops short of killing its host. Anything remotely competitive about this entire scene has been long replaced by our refusal to recognize the tumor that exists at the heart of this community. The environment we fostered has trapped us all in this vicious cycle, and escaping it requires acceptance of the harshest reality we all scramble to explain away, that none of the countless straining efforts we put ourselves through here will ever amount to one single shining glimmer of significance. One last thing before I leave you all to react with righteous mockery as you self fellate to your epic "own", before you do everything in your power to minimize my words and thoughts like the manchild you are. From this moment on, nothing you say matters to me. No insult you can craft against me will hold power, no toxic vitriol will leave me poisoned. The foulest, most profane insults that you deem to throw my way will simply settle into the dust at my feet. You all chose to let this absolute insulting excuse of an SCP exist in your community, while I chose to walk away filled with joy derived from the fact that I knew when to quit and you didn't. Cowards. Ban Resistile. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user guaire]] [[div]] bro you just posted cringe [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Uncle Nicolini]] [[div]] What does lord care? He's filled with joy derived from knowing when to quit. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Estrellayoshte]] [[div]] Aww someone got a thesaurus for Christmas [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user cdithink]] [[div]] "In this moment, I am euphoric..." [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user mr carbon]] [[div]] > lordxvnv leaving Top ten saddest anime moments [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] The above thread has been locked because y'all can't behave. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user LizardWizard]] [[div]] [[=image anlizard.png size="medium"]] [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user drrevan]] [[div]] Are O5* ruining the metagame? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Not so gentle reminder to remain on topic. This thread is devolving into memes just like Decomm Attempt #20 did. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user R4_EX]] [[div]] Resistile is just a localized variant of [[[SCP-999 \| Jellisweet]]]. If you decomm Resistile, you need to decomm Jellisweet for the same reasons. Hell you might as well ban all SCPs classified under the "Scarlet King" category and kill the [[[SCP-5000 \| 5000 Ways to Die]]] game mode entirely. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user limeyy]] [[div]] ...You know that Resistile and Jellisweet being variants isn't canon right? Like... at all? The most they have in common is that they both get Reconstruct. The whole "they're both Scarlet King SCPs" thing is just a fan theory. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user R4_EX]] [[div]] Might as well be canon [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user limeyy]] [[div]] No?? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user rakkran]] [[div]] you say resistile is op but dont you remember when it fell in love with [[[SCP-2718 \| dammerung]]] and together they broke through the concept of death and it was reduced back into its jellisweet form after a few lust moves i mean it can clearly be stopped and weakend pretty esily if you just try hard enough [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user realsurrealsir]] [[div]] What [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user guezma]] [[div]] What the hell are you talking about? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user eggueggueggueggu]] [[div]] Does OP not make sense to anyone else or am I having a stroke? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user OriTiefling]] [[div]] No OP definitely doesn't make any sense. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Locking //this// thread too before more members of the peanut gallery chime in! Folks keep it focused on the Decomm and knock off the shitposting and memes. I've got all the time in the world to keep banning people who cut up. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user jakdragonx]] [[div]] YOU ONLY WANT TO BAN RESISTILE BECAUSE IT MAKES THE META MORE ACCESSIBLE TO CHILDREN AND THAT IS WHAT PEDOPHILES DO!!!!!!! [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user torcsandantlers]] [[div]] Girl what [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Agente Shuffle]] [[div]] Hello?? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Banned. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user HOGSLICE]] [[div]] NO ONE WANTS THIS SHITASS BAN, FUCKFACE. WANT TO WIN A FUCKING MATCH? BE A MAN INSTEAD OF A PUSSY BETA. LIKE ME. IM A MAN. SINCE YOU ALL ARE TOO STUPID TO UNDERSTAND ILL LAY THINGS OUT FOR YOU- * FACT- LIZARD IS HARD TO DESTROY * FACT- LIZARD CAN TEAR THROUGH YOUR SORRY ASS TEAM BECAUSE ITS A CHAD LIKE THAT * FACT- LIZARDS DONT CARE ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS LOSE AGAINST THE LIZARD? CRY ABOUT IT AND GROW A PAIR. -HOGSLICE [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Gentle reminder to users to not engage with the above account. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user HOGSLICE]] [[div]] "GENTLE REMINDER" WHAT KIND OF PUSSY SHIT IS THIS? REMIND PEOPLE LIKE YOU MEAN IT MOTHERFUCKER. LIKE A REAL AMERICAN. -HOGSLICE SENT FROM MY IPHONE [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user yossipossi]] [[div]] Live Resistile reaction. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] I expected better of a member of staff. Consider this your warning. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user basirskipreader]] [[div]] nyaa~ [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Banned. I'm done playing with you all. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Ralliston]] [[div]] I don’t have an opinion on resistile but I think we really need to revisit whether we should be using the -EN or -JP titles [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Banned, and O5 Council position revoked. Keep things on topic. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user harmacy]] [[div]] Wow this thread is an absolute mess. This really //is// like Decomm Attempt #20 huh? Anyway to recap votes so far, it looks like about 7 in favor of Decomm and 6 actual votes to keep it. I'm going to throw my hat in with the people who want to keep it. Listen a good Resistile at the right time in a match can be absolutely devastating and can be a win condition. I'm not going to argue that it isn't. At the same time, it has a myriad of checks and hard counters that stop it even after it gets rolling. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/critter-profile-cappi Cappi], for example, completely shuts down even a +4 Resistile with its ability Spongy Body allowing it to just completely ignore all offensive boosts. Just like the ones Fishish mentioned prior, it's completely viable and not even uncommon on teams. Seriously as long as Cappi itself is around I'm not sure why Resistile decommissioning is ever on the table? [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user floorboards]] [[div]] Sis got banned for being right? Come on [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Ok before I close out this discussion does anyone have any actual arguments that they want to make? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user mr carbon]] [[div]] Staff once again debating poop statue competitive battling website too seriously. absolute scum 😎 [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST* [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Prismal]] [[div]] I just wish there was a GOOD AND STRAIGHTFORWARD guide to teambuilding!! EVERY guide out there just gives surface level information! [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user metalravioli]] [[div]] That's where Simply Competitive People comes in! As long as you can tolerate around 30 minutes of them talking about the viability of [[[SCP-6869 \| Sadguy]]] in Dammerung teams back in Series 3 Keter you'll get all the info that you need. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply2"]] [[user Guaire]] [[div]] Or their bathroom breaks where they leave and don't edit out the following ten minutes of complete and utter silence. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user metalravioli]] [[div]] That's just ambiance [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user Harryblank]] [[div]] It's to get you ready to face stall teams like those built around Resistile. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply3"]] [[user cyvstvi]] [[div]] I like to take my bathroom breaks at the same time so it's like we're peeing together <3 [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user stormbreath]] [[div]] Anyone in this thread smoke weed? [[=]] USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST* [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user pedagon]] [[div]] Alright, fuck it. It's basically been 2 weeks at this point and a solid 90% of this thread is absolute nonsense shitposting. The O5 Council met to have another vote on Decommissioning Resistile. Results are below. \|\| \|\| Decomm \|\| \|\| Pedagon* \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| OriTiefling \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| Torcsandantlers \|\| Yes \|\| \|\| EstrellaYoshte \|\| No \|\| \|\| Rounderhouse \|\| No \|\| \|\| Naepic \|\| No \|\| As there was an even 50-50 split due to the loss of Ralliston as a Council member, the vote is decided in favor of Resistile remaining in the tier. I'm sure that will make most of you very happy. See you again in 3 weeks when we relitigate this again. Until then, enjoy yourselves. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user torcsandantlers]] [[div]] Hi everyone. The time has finally come for me to say goodbye to this site. I'm grateful for the time I've spent here, and grateful for the opportunity to serve as a community leader for you all. That said, real life obligations (work, school, family, etc.) take priority and I simply can't push them aside any longer. Working on this community project has been an amazing experience and I wouldn't change it for the world. Ah, and I've deleted Resistile from the game. This wasn't a mistake- I did it on purpose. Bye! [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user oritiefling]] [[div]] What the fuck [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Guaire]] [[div]] Huh??? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Rounderhouse]] [[div]] Yay I guess? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user guezma]] [[div]] WHAT HELLO?? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user floorboards]] [[div]] Heyo? [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] I fucking quit. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user gee0765]] [[div]] meta deez nut [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[collapsible show="+ " hide="- "]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Resistile]] [[div]] I am never dying, never ending. I am eternal, a universal constant in this loathsome space you call a world. You all are but worms, maggots that writhe in the dirt beneath my claws. You are below notice, barely worthy of the most passing of attention. Kill me? Decommission me? You cannot end me in a way that matters. I AM BACK. YOU WILL NEVER RID YOURSELF OF ME.* [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Pedagon]] [[div]] Banned for roleplaying. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* opconf.png > Author: [[user EstrellaYoshte]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/opusconfidant > ---- > Name: Beached humpback whale at Kincaid Park. Anchorage, Alaska > Author: Paxson Woelber > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: [https://web.archive.org/web/20220215112324/https://www.flickr.com/photos/paxson_woelber/27715605864/ Flickr] > ---- > Filename: monster8editub9-new.jpg > Author: [[user OccultistMave]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-682 SCP Foundation Wiki] > Derivative of: ===== > Name: anlizard.png > Author: Dino--Draws > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: Provided for this article by the artist ===== > Name: lizardgluetrap.png, lizardthumbsup.png > Author: OriTiefling > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: Provided for this article by the artist [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-02T02:58:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "comedy", "correspondence", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "hogslice", "tale" ]	Resistile Decommissioning Attempt - Thread - SCP Foundation	115	[ "scp-682", "scp-173", "scp-6820", "scp-7000", "scp-963", "scp-6059", "scp-4000", "scp-7005", "scp-6000", "scp-7073", "scp-7333", "scp-179", "scp-073", "spc-3008", "scp-6004", "scp-3521", "scp-999", "scp-5000", "scp-2718", "critter-profile-cappi", "scp-6869", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "opusconfidant", "scp-682" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "april-fools-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/resistile-decomm-attempt/anlizard.png/medium.jpg" ]	1447102380	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/resistile-decomm-attempt
resurrection-of-the-purple-witch	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foxtrot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sigma-9</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2022</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Liryn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">FONTS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Lexend</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@700</span><span class="hl-code">;800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">JetBrains</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Mono</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Fira</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Code</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@400</span><span class="hl-code">;700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sofia</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">rsms.me</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter.css</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Figtree</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@800</span><span class="hl-code">;900&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">IBM</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Plex</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Core</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">darkmode-logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">head-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Sans Normalcy'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">ui-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'IBM Plex Sans'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">mono-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira </span><span class="hl-string">Code</span><span class="hl-code">', </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Inter', 'verdana'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">base-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Misc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">subheader-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">misc-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#464646</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E6283C</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-hover-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Accents</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accent:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-default:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-wyoming:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">142</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-canada:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-poland:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">87</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">44</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">17</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-slothspit:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-vanguard:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">153</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-code">; 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/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">BetterFootnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">html</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">scroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> smooth</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient(to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-rendering:</span><span class="hl-code"> optimizeLegibility</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">440</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">strong</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--mono-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ol</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-underline-offset:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">900</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">26</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-img) </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-opacity)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Search</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">47</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.83</span><span class="hl-code">) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">230</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-indent:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.mobile-top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Login</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">19</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#my-account</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#interwiki</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#cfcfcf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">pt</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blockquotes</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Custom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">dashed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fbfbfb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.quote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.note</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#afafaf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.round</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Titles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Author</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Label</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.authorlink-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-top-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-bottom-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-right-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f4f4f4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bfbfbf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Captions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E0FFD4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDFCD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFCFCF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colored</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">224</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">212</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">226</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">245</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">189</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">223</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">205</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">218</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQ</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">things</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Assets</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">underline</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.item1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.class1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">woedbar-class-bar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.55</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MISC</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bt</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#444</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#7b7b7b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footer-wikiwalk-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">88</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-options-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-watch-options</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">77</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#5f5f5f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ecf2f1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#d9d9d9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "."</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "tags "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.3125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.625</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.0625</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent)) </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> ""</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.2813</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-tags-input</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">table.form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.edit-page-bottomtable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-comments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "!"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">115</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "⏲ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">outline:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-property:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> darkslategrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5)></span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">120</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 900</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content-warning.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">21</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.preview-message</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">29</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> drop-shadow(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.error-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">48</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B00</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2</span><span class="hl-identifier">n</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fade</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">default</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">155</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F7F7F7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> loading </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">s linear infinite</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">loading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">360</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.osuccess</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.content</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2)></span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.odialog-shader</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#262a39</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn.btn-primary</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.button</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#eaeaea</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#dbffd6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#005a0a</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#0d951c</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffe1e1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c52727</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c5272e</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#757575</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.checkbox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#h-perpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">REDUCED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOTION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACCESSIBILITY</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (prefers-reduced-motion: </span><span class="hl-identifier">reduce</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-iteration-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@MEDIA</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 850</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 620</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">123</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 520</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { line-height: </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/einer-von-rabe" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262924); return false;"><img alt="Einer von Rabe" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3262924&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032566" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3262924)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/einer-von-rabe" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262924); return false;">Einer von Rabe</a></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="/no-return-hub">The Canon this tale is set in.</a><br/> <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/goi-1995-de-das-wunderkabinett">The International Group of Interest this tale uses.</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> </div> <div class="notation"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: white">The</span> <span style="color: #b686bf">Purple Witch</span> <span style="color: white">Is Dead</span></span></h1> </div> </div> <p>The wind chimes jingled as a young woman entered the shop.</p> <p>The shelves were covered in a thin layer of dust and it was otherwise a bit musty inside.</p> <p><a href="/pawn-to-e4">Alison</a> looked around in search of the shop's owner. She cleared her throat, - which made her cough from all the particles in the air, - but before she could say anything, a voice came from behind her, "How can I help you, young lady?"</p> <p>Alison turned to see an elderly lady walking on a cane. Her posture and wrinkles clearly showed her age.</p> <p>After a bit of stammering, Alison asked, "I'm looking for a friend. … Actually a friend of a friend. … She calls herself <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/goi-1995-de-das-wunderkabinett">Ms Mirabilis</a>."</p> <p>Something flashed in the grandmother's eyes. She made a sad face. "I'm sorry, but I must inform you that this person is no longer with us."</p> <p>A knot formed in Alison's stomach. The fallout from the breakdown of the supernatural had made huge waves and the world beyond the veil still hadn't recovered.</p> <p>The older lady took Alison's hand. "Oh, I was apparently a little too direct. Forgive me. Wouldn't you like to sit down? I'll bring you some tea."</p> <p>"Did you know Ms Mirabilis?" the shopkeeper asked as she poured the warm drink.</p> <p>Alison examined the liquid before sipping it.</p> <p>"Not really. As I said, we had a mutual acquaintance - one of my sisters. This one sent me to talk to her."</p> <p>"What was it about, if you don't mind me asking?"</p> <p>"It's about a project where we might have needed her help."</p> <p>"Well, well, a project? You sound mysterious."</p> <p>"What do you mean?"</p> <p>"Oh, just an old lady's little fun. But then, I did interrupt you. I hope this project isn't dangerous."</p> <p>Alison felt tired. "I don't actually know who you are."</p> <p>The elderly lady laughed. "How rude of me. Why don't you call me Mrs Holle? Surely you know the fairy tale, don't you?"</p> <p>Mrs Holle poured more tea into Alison's cup. "I am the current owner of this rather dusty shop of peculiar goods."<br/> She tapped against the mug. "The tea, for example. It comes from <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-64k#toc6">Mujin</a> in the south of South Korea. Somewhere on the coast. Very good, but too valuable and expensive to sell. For days like this, it's just right."</p> <p>Alison felt dizzy. Everything was spinning. Panic rose in her, almost dropping her glasses. Shakily, she stood up.</p> <p>"What's going on …?" she managed to blurt out, "You … you're lulling me."</p> <p>The old lady put a hand on the young woman's again. Alison immediately noticed a relaxation flowing from the tips of Mrs Holle's fingers down her arm to the rest of her body. She pulled her hand away.</p> <p>Alison forced her legs to move. Each step felt leaden. Finally, she stumbled.</p> <p>"My goodness. Are you really afraid of frail old me? <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/kreaturenprofil-eden">Eden</a> darling? Will you help me?"</p> <p>Alison sensed from the vibrations of the wooden floor that someone was coming. Then someone awkwardly tried to move her. She ended up lying against a wall, still dazed.</p> <p>"Listen, Miss Chao, I know it wasn't nice to weave a spell around you, but I'm too old for anything more exciting."</p> <p>Mrs. Holle patted the younger woman on the head.</p> <p>"I know your friend. Isn't it <a href="/iris-dark-girls-night-1">Alba</a> or Alexandra, am I right? Although Alexandra is a bit unlikely. She's not entirely good with people, but sometimes has her heart in the right place."<br/> For emphasis, she patted herself on the chest.<br/> "So, what did you have in mind for Ms Mirabilis?"</p> <p>Alison turned her face away. "Why should I tell?"</p> <p>"Because," the older lady poked the Black Queen against her left cheek with a finger, "I am that Ms Mirabilis. Or what's left of her. I died in a way during the collapse, just not in the classical sense. The rest of my magic is keeping me together still, just enough to mime a grandmother. Markus, Amber and Nils got it worse, the last two are at least still responsive."</p> <p>The frail Mirabilis tapped her walking stick against Alison's head. "So: what do you need me for? Let me guess. You wanted to break into the Jailers, am I right?"</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"No?"</p> <p>"No, we want to bring them - the Foundation - down."</p> <p>"Yes, yes, that's nothing new." The older lady flicked in front of Alison's face several times. Alison wiped her hand away. She noticed herself regaining more control over her consciousness.</p> <p>Mirabilis sat down next to the young woman. A sigh escaped her lips.</p> <p>"I'll tell you a little secret. My magic draws a good bit of its power from the use of my creations. And somewhat that I and the Wunderkabinett are an urban legend. You can imagine the effect the collapse had. Ha, you can even see it."</p> <p>"I'm sure <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/dinodon-s-hand">Morríghan</a> can help you."</p> <p>The old lady waved it off. "My magic is too old to simply wrap a magical bandage around. My ancestresses schemed to stay in power."</p> <p>The spell over Alison had dissolved imaginatively. She helped Mirabilis to stand.</p> <p>"What is a conspiracy against an authoritarian organisation but a scheme?"</p> <p>"That's what I wanted to hear," the witch took Alison's hand again and looked her in the eye, "Now say it?"</p> <p>"What …"</p> <p>"Say the words."</p> <p>"Ms Mirabilis, we need your help."</p> <p>"Where's the determination?"</p> <p>"<tt><span style="color: #dab8e6">Ms Mirabilis, we need your help to bring down the Special Containment Procedures Foundation!</span></tt>"</p> <p>A shudder ran through the old, frail woman's body. The wrinkles disappeared, as if someone had gone over her skin with an iron. The greyish-white hair reverted to the dark brown it used to be. The forward bent posture snapped back to an upright one. Cracking and twitching, Ms Mirabilis transformed into her younger self before the eyes of the Black Queen.</p> <p>"What are we waiting for?" asked the Purple Witch in a still partly hoarse tone.</p> <p>She pattered a few feet. "I'm not quite fit yet. Will probably still need the cane."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="notation"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #e1cfee">We will not fade.</span></span></h3> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/resurrection-of-the-purple-witch">The Purple Witch Is Dead</a>" by Einer von Rabe, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/resurrection-of-the-purple-witch">https://scpwiki.com/resurrection-of-the-purple-witch</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a> threshold=a\| dark=a\| hidetitle=a]] [[module CSS]] :root { --accent: 207, 179, 230; } [[/module]] ---- [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] Author: [[*user Einer von Rabe]] @@ @@ [[[no-return-hub \| The Canon this tale is set in.]]] [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/goi-1995-de-das-wunderkabinett The International Group of Interest this tale uses.] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[/>]] [[div class="notation"]] [[=]] + ##white\|The## ##b686bf \|Purple Witch## ##white\|Is Dead## [[/=]] [[/div]] The wind chimes jingled as a young woman entered the shop. The shelves were covered in a thin layer of dust and it was otherwise a bit musty inside. [[[pawn-to-e4\|Alison]]] looked around in search of the shop's owner. She cleared her throat, - which made her cough from all the particles in the air, - but before she could say anything, a voice came from behind her, "How can I help you, young lady?" Alison turned to see an elderly lady walking on a cane. Her posture and wrinkles clearly showed her age. After a bit of stammering, Alison asked, "I'm looking for a friend. ... Actually a friend of a friend. ... She calls herself [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/goi-1995-de-das-wunderkabinett Ms Mirabilis]." Something flashed in the grandmother's eyes. She made a sad face. "I'm sorry, but I must inform you that this person is no longer with us." A knot formed in Alison's stomach. The fallout from the breakdown of the supernatural had made huge waves and the world beyond the veil still hadn't recovered. The older lady took Alison's hand. "Oh, I was apparently a little too direct. Forgive me. Wouldn't you like to sit down? I'll bring you some tea." "Did you know Ms Mirabilis?" the shopkeeper asked as she poured the warm drink. Alison examined the liquid before sipping it. "Not really. As I said, we had a mutual acquaintance - one of my sisters. This one sent me to talk to her." "What was it about, if you don't mind me asking?" "It's about a project where we might have needed her help." "Well, well, a project? You sound mysterious." "What do you mean?" "Oh, just an old lady's little fun. But then, I did interrupt you. I hope this project isn't dangerous." Alison felt tired. "I don't actually know who you are." The elderly lady laughed. "How rude of me. Why don't you call me Mrs Holle? Surely you know the fairy tale, don't you?" Mrs Holle poured more tea into Alison's cup. "I am the current owner of this rather dusty shop of peculiar goods." She tapped against the mug. "The tea, for example. It comes from [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-64k#toc6 \|Mujin]]] in the south of South Korea. Somewhere on the coast. Very good, but too valuable and expensive to sell. For days like this, it's just right." Alison felt dizzy. Everything was spinning. Panic rose in her, almost dropping her glasses. Shakily, she stood up. "What's going on ...?" she managed to blurt out, "You ... you're lulling me." The old lady put a hand on the young woman's again. Alison immediately noticed a relaxation flowing from the tips of Mrs Holle's fingers down her arm to the rest of her body. She pulled her hand away. Alison forced her legs to move. Each step felt leaden. Finally, she stumbled. "My goodness. Are you really afraid of frail old me? [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/kreaturenprofil-eden Eden] darling? Will you help me?" Alison sensed from the vibrations of the wooden floor that someone was coming. Then someone awkwardly tried to move her. She ended up lying against a wall, still dazed. "Listen, Miss Chao, I know it wasn't nice to weave a spell around you, but I'm too old for anything more exciting." Mrs. Holle patted the younger woman on the head. "I know your friend. Isn't it [[[iris-dark-girls-night-1\|Alba]]] or Alexandra, am I right? Although Alexandra is a bit unlikely. She's not entirely good with people, but sometimes has her heart in the right place." For emphasis, she patted herself on the chest. "So, what did you have in mind for Ms Mirabilis?" Alison turned her face away. "Why should I tell?" "Because," the older lady poked the Black Queen against her left cheek with a finger, "I am that Ms Mirabilis. Or what's left of her. I died in a way during the collapse, just not in the classical sense. The rest of my magic is keeping me together still, just enough to mime a grandmother. Markus, Amber and Nils got it worse, the last two are at least still responsive." The frail Mirabilis tapped her walking stick against Alison's head. "So: what do you need me for? Let me guess. You wanted to break into the Jailers, am I right?" "No." "No?" "No, we want to bring them - the Foundation - down." "Yes, yes, that's nothing new." The older lady flicked in front of Alison's face several times. Alison wiped her hand away. She noticed herself regaining more control over her consciousness. Mirabilis sat down next to the young woman. A sigh escaped her lips. "I'll tell you a little secret. My magic draws a good bit of its power from the use of my creations. And somewhat that I and the Wunderkabinett are an urban legend. You can imagine the effect the collapse had. Ha, you can even see it." "I'm sure [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/dinodon-s-hand Morríghan] can help you." The old lady waved it off. "My magic is too old to simply wrap a magical bandage around. My ancestresses schemed to stay in power." The spell over Alison had dissolved imaginatively. She helped Mirabilis to stand. "What is a conspiracy against an authoritarian organisation but a scheme?" "That's what I wanted to hear," the witch took Alison's hand again and looked her in the eye, "Now say it?" "What ..." "Say the words." "Ms Mirabilis, we need your help." "Where's the determination?" "{{##dab8e6\|Ms Mirabilis, we need your help to bring down the Special Containment Procedures Foundation!##}}" A shudder ran through the old, frail woman's body. The wrinkles disappeared, as if someone had gone over her skin with an iron. The greyish-white hair reverted to the dark brown it used to be. The forward bent posture snapped back to an upright one. Cracking and twitching, Ms Mirabilis transformed into her younger self before the eyes of the Black Queen. "What are we waiting for?" asked the Purple Witch in a still partly hoarse tone. She pattered a few feet. "I'm not quite fit yet. Will probably still need the cane." @@ @@ [[div class="notation"]] [[=]] +++ ##e1cfee\|We will not fade.## [[/=]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-04T12:32:00	[ "_licensebox", "black-queen", "fantasy", "no-return", "tale" ]	The Purple Witch Is Dead - SCP Foundation	17	[ "no-return-hub", "pawn-to-e4", "secure-facility-dossier-site-64k#toc6", "iris-dark-girls-night-1", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "no-return-hub", "black-queen-hub" ]	[]	1445879635	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/resurrection-of-the-purple-witch
returns	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>The world has sunk into the sea, and the sea has receded. Then where is the world? Should it not be at the bottom of those dried pits?</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Anight-rush-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="preview"> <p>Flax</p> </div> <div style="display: none"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Show component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--base-font-size) * (</span><span class="hl-number">266</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> -webkit-sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">grid-area:</span><span class="hl-code"> side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0.688</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -</span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-alternate-color, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> + </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scpnet-interwiki-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Print</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Friendly</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Formatting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Estrella</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">body.print-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>The truth does exist! He was unquestionably misled. Doubting, that being a varroa, is inherently evil; allow fate to take its course! Consider the universe to have an impact. Worst of all, the fact that state passed… but We present</em> because of <em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2614" target="_blank">demons</a>.</em></p> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/returns/742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg"><img alt="742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/returns/742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg/small.jpg"/></a></div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>It was all gone forever<br/> Like it was there — never.</p> <p>We lost it all in the fire<br/> And found no-one left to inspire.</p> <p>No mantras or slogans could've saved what was left<br/> And with no one to speak them, clawed away with heft.</p> <p>The rubble laid bare, so old<br/> The fire had long grown so cold.</p> <p>You side-eyed the last rites<br/> And whimpered a goodnight.</p> <p>Standing aside from who was left<br/> With no one to speak to, clawed away with heft.</p> <p>The feeling<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6371" target="_blank">returns</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>When you awoke<br/> You found yourself alone.</p> <p>When you spoke<br/> It came in hushed tones.</p> <p>Movement some ways<br/> Away.</p> <p>Moments pass into a<br/> Day.</p> <p>Night light, night light<br/> Burning bright.</p> <p>Twilight, twilight<br/> Into night.</p> <p>The feeling<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6230" target="_blank">returns</a>.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>Crawling out from rubble<br/> Born into trouble.</p> <p>The iron tomb is cold like<br/> your mother's womb.</p> <p>Ice cold tourniquet<br/> will keep you quiet.</p> <p>Black mold bums did it<br/> Living wages plummet.</p> <p>Walking around the factory floor<br/> Looking for an exit door.</p> <p>Glancing up at catwalk rails<br/> Glycerin collecting under your nails.</p> <p>The feeling<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4370" target="_blank">returns</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The last rites provided<br/> Had become too divided.</p> <p>Split between the last thirty seven,<br/> Lost were the last gates to Heaven.</p> <p>Money was God, and to Him you cried<br/> But there was no stirring when the institute died.</p> <p>Broadcast your coordinates: Save us, please<br/> Televised, the leachates, the pressure squeeze.</p> <p>So you drifted off to sea to find your sleep<br/> And brought you urchins and fish to eat.</p> <p>Rod in one hand, net in the other<br/> You saw in the f-sh, the Holy Mother.</p> <p>The feeling<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2558" target="_blank">returns</a>.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>First the tide rushes in<br/> And pushes up the mountain.</p> <p>Second fiddle, fish's fin<br/> Touching up the fountain.</p> <p>The excavation can begin<br/> Once it's brought back in.</p> <p>The spell is sinking all the tin<br/> And the crew is growing thin.</p> <p>Merrily aboard now, wastrels<br/> Verily, this is what's been paid for.</p> <p>Verily, this is delayed Hell<br/> Merrily, it sinks and they stand still.</p> <p>The feeling<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7900" target="_blank">returns</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Before the final departure to the waves<br/> The aperture opened to a hidden place.</p> <p>A collection of silicon rooms surround a tomb<br/> Deep and cold, archived, like a discarded womb.</p> <p>Symbols are mounted on every wall<br/> And there is no light at all.</p> <p>Glassy, black, skeletal frame<br/> The body has changed in many ways.</p> <p>A placard sits across a chair<br/> But the words cannot be transcribed here.</p> <p>The institute is older than we know<br/> But you will find out, deep below.</p> <p>The feeling<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4246" target="_blank">returns</a>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/returns/742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg"><img alt="742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/returns/742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg/small.jpg"/></a> <p><em>I have started to detach myself from Nature, discard all the implications and beliefs that We once held, and if there is anything related to the laws of attraction, the fundamental sciences are the basis; universally accepted to establish a concrete <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-398" target="_blank">foundation</a>!</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/returns">hauntology-antaka</a>" by FLOORBOARDS, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/returns">https://scpwiki.com/returns</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> long_hallway_JeffK.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> LAX Hallway<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Jeff Kramer<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190215044918/https://www.flickr.com/photos/jeffk/742235207/">Flickr.com</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= The world has sunk into the sea, and the sea has receded. Then where is the world? Should it not be at the bottom of those dried pits? ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:night-rush-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:night-rush-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:preview">:scp-wiki:component:preview</a> text=Flax]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:croqstyle">:scp-wiki:component:croqstyle</a> -=- ]] [[module CSS]] /* Make redacted stuff invisible / #header h1 a, #header h2 span, #header h2 span::before, #login-status, .no { color: transparent; text-shadow: none; } / The redaction character is a little too wide compared to the average Verdana * character (for Latin text), so thin it a little / .no { letter-spacing: -1px; } / Hide the original page title / #page-title { display: none; } #header { height: 140px; position: relative; z-index: 10; padding-bottom: 22px; / FOR MENU / background: url() 10px 40px no-repeat; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:collapsible-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:collapsible-sidebar</a>]] [[=]] [[module rate]] @@ @@ //The truth does exist! He was unquestionably misled. Doubting, that being a varroa, is inherently evil; allow fate to take its course! Consider the universe to have an impact. Worst of all, the fact that state passed... but We present// because of //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2614 demons].// [[image 742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg size="small"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[>]] It was all gone forever Like it was there -- never. We lost it all in the fire And found no-one left to inspire. No mantras or slogans could've saved what was left And with no one to speak them, clawed away with heft. The rubble laid bare, so old The fire had long grown so cold. You side-eyed the last rites And whimpered a goodnight. Standing aside from who was left With no one to speak to, clawed away with heft. The feeling [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6371 returns]. [[/>]] ------ When you awoke You found yourself alone. When you spoke It came in hushed tones. Movement some ways Away. Moments pass into a Day. Night light, night light Burning bright. Twilight, twilight Into night. The feeling [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6230 returns]. ------ [[>]] Crawling out from rubble Born into trouble. The iron tomb is cold like your mother's womb. Ice cold tourniquet will keep you quiet. Black mold bums did it Living wages plummet. Walking around the factory floor Looking for an exit door. Glancing up at catwalk rails Glycerin collecting under your nails. The feeling [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4370 returns]. [[/>]] ------ The last rites provided Had become too divided. Split between the last thirty seven, Lost were the last gates to Heaven. Money was God, and to Him you cried But there was no stirring when the institute died. Broadcast your coordinates: Save us, please Televised, the leachates, the pressure squeeze. So you drifted off to sea to find your sleep And brought you urchins and fish to eat. Rod in one hand, net in the other You saw in the f-sh, the Holy Mother. The feeling [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2558 returns]. ------ [[>]] First the tide rushes in And pushes up the mountain. Second fiddle, fish's fin Touching up the fountain. The excavation can begin Once it's brought back in. The spell is sinking all the tin And the crew is growing thin. Merrily aboard now, wastrels Verily, this is what's been paid for. Verily, this is delayed Hell Merrily, it sinks and they stand still. The feeling [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7900 returns]. [[/>]] ------ Before the final departure to the waves The aperture opened to a hidden place. A collection of silicon rooms surround a tomb Deep and cold, archived, like a discarded womb. Symbols are mounted on every wall And there is no light at all. Glassy, black, skeletal frame The body has changed in many ways. A placard sits across a chair But the words cannot be transcribed here. The institute is older than we know But you will find out, deep below. The feeling [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4246 returns]. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[image 742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg size="small"]] //I have started to detach myself from Nature, discard all the implications and beliefs that We once held, and if there is anything related to the laws of attraction, the fundamental sciences are the basis; universally accepted to establish a concrete [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-398 foundation]!// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* long_hallway_JeffK.jpg > Name: LAX Hallway > Author: Jeff Kramer > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: [https://web.archive.org/web/20190215044918/https://www.flickr.com/photos/jeffk/742235207/ Flickr.com] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@	2023-04-09T16:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "alternate-history", "bleak", "but-a-dream", "cosmic-horror", "horror", "kindness", "no-dialogue", "poetry", "religious-fiction", "researcher-labelle", "science-fiction", "surrealism", "tale" ]	hauntology-antaka - SCP Foundation	28	[ "scp-2614", "scp-6371", "scp-6230", "scp-4370", "scp-2558", "scp-7900", "scp-4246", "scp-398", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-father-the-son-and-the-holy-spirit-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/returns/742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg/small.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/returns/742235207_0c9cb0cb43_n.jpg/small.jpg" ]	1447225165	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/returns
revelations-of-the-author	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ajakstyle/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>“Would you destroy it?” Researcher Johnston’s voice broke Chudley’s stare at the ticking clock on the wall. The pair had been sitting in the Administration’s waiting room for a meeting with Site Director Richter and needless to say, Chudley was bored.</p> <p>“Destroy what?” Chudley responded.</p> <p>“That flash drive you keep fiddling with.”</p> <p>Chudley looked down in his hand at the 64GB flash drive that contained <a href="/scp-5938">SCP-5938</a>. He’d gone so absent-minded he forgot he had it with him.</p> <p>“That would be against the Foundation’s creed, Johnston.”</p> <p>“C’mon, when have you ever followed a rule?” Johnston said playfully.</p> <p>Chudley smiled, “… Yeah if it were up to me I’d smash this thing into a million pieces. That way no one could achieve paradise like the author of the Set wants. Honestly, it would be my luck that these things are 1000% fucking invincible.”</p> <p>“I’m surprised you didn’t touch <a href="/scp-6419">SCP-6419</a> after everything that had gone down. No one would have blamed you.”</p> <p>“Well, I was too busy being flashbanged by a certain individual.”</p> <p>“Oh yeah… I forgot about that.” Johnston started to chuckle and Chudley too began to laugh, his nerves easing ever so slightly. “But more importantly… why are you so nervous?”</p> <p>“Because we're about to go talk to Richter and if you haven’t noticed, she HATES me.” Chudley scoffed.</p> <p>“She doesn’t hate you, she just wants you to be working toward your potential.”</p> <p>“But no matter what I do, she still treats me like a child,” A wave of slight anger filled Chudley’s tone. “I’m pretty sure she does everything in her power to stick me with bottom-tier assignments.”</p> <p>“She’s hard on all of us, man. Not to mention, it’s not like you make it easy on her. Weren’t you the one that accidentally deleted SCP-6419 and then made Quinn re-write the whole thing?”</p> <p>“I plead the fifth.”</p> <p>“Researchers Johnston and Chudley, Director Richter will see you now.” Richter’s secretary said from her desk. The door buzzed to allow them back into the admin offices.</p> <p>“You escape prosecution this time,” Johnston said as they both stood up. Chudley put the flash drive back in his pocket.</p> <p>“Showtime, lezz go.” They both walked through the door and back to Room 101, Richter’s office.</p> <p>Inside, the always sharply dressed Richter was wearing a black suit, her red curls hanging down to her shoulders and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses sat firmly on her freckled face. She looked up at the two of them from a file she is reading and asked, “You two had a proposal for me.”</p> <p>“Yes, Ma’am,” Johnston said as she and Chudley took their seats. “We would like to put in a formal request to do a cross-test between SCP-6419, <a href="/scp-6952">SCP-6952</a>, and SCP-5938. The purpose of this would be to test the authenticity of SCP-5938 as a genuine member of the Set of Nine.”</p> <p>Richter stared at the two of them for a few moments before letting out a long sigh, “Chudley put you up to this didn’t he?”</p> <p>“Oh come on, why do you always assume it was me?”</p> <p>“Because this idea is CRAZY, not to mention you both know the rules. No cross-testing, especially with the Set of Nine!”</p> <p>“I wasn’t put up to anything. Both of us agreed that this was a necessary step for the re-containment of the rest of the set. Not only do we not have any clues but we're not even sure if SCP-5938 is a part of the Set of Nine. It could just be a cheap imitation made by PeppaPigs’s- err… PoI-6940.”</p> <p>“I’m more than aware of PoI-6940’s anomalous trickery. We’re still trying to figure out whether or not the Finnish branch needs to be renamed or not.” Richter rolled her eyes, remembering the tense manhunt from last year involving <a href="/scp-4230">SCP-4230</a>.</p> <p>“Which is why if he can trick the world into thinking an entire country exists then surely he’s capable of making a counterfeit Set of Nine.”</p> <p>“I just don’t know. Are there really no other leads?”</p> <p>Johnston shook her head, “The Sepulchrum don’t seem to have any idea where the ninth book in the Set is. We'd gotten some intel about a book-related anomaly in Poland but we don't have a definitive location.”</p> <p>“And while the Sepulchrum claim the books will do something upon putting them together, we don’t have all of them. So whatever portal it’s supposed to open shouldn’t… we hope.” Chudley said.</p> <p>“If you can even trust their word…” Richter tapped her finger on the desk, deep in thought.</p> <p>“We can’t, but…it’s worth a shot, right? For the Betterment of Humanity?” Chudley tried to appeal to Richter’s good side.</p> <p>“For the Betterment of Humanity,” Richter chuckled slightly. “I guess I do owe you one for getting us out of the Jorts mess.”</p> <p>“Y-you do?” Chudley said in disbelief.</p> <p>“Contrary to popular belief Gregory, you do good work for this Foundation. Otherwise, you’d be in doing Acromatic Abatement in Site-43’s worst jobs rather than here.”</p> <p>“I've heard it's at least more scenic than Chugwater, Wyoming.” Johnston added.</p> <p>“I can’t argue with that. Chugwater sucks.” Greg shrugged.</p> <p>“Getting the topic back on hand, I trust that you will follow proper protocol but I'm still a bit hesitant about this whole thing. Over the past few months, I've been manipulated by two anomalies thus far. I just don't want anything else to go wrong.</p> <p>“You won’t regret it, we know how dangerous this all sounds. But we're confident that we can do this.” Johnston replied.</p> <p>Richter sighed, "Then proposal accepted. Hopefully, you can glean some new information on just what these things are meant to be used for.”</p> <p>/-/</p> <p>A day later…</p> <p>Chudley and Johnston walked into the testing area with members of MTF Sigma-27 coming in behind them. Chudley is carrying SCP-6419 in its protective case, Johnston had SCP-6952 in one hand and drone case in the other. They sat them down on the round table in the middle of the empty room as the Sigma-27’s took their place along the wall, standing guard in case of an emergency.</p> <p>Chudley shared a slightly nervous glance with Johnston, “I shouldn’t have to remind you but… whatever happens, do not look at the Grimoire’s pages.</p> <p>Johnston looked at him reassuringly, “I know, Chudley. That is why we have the drone. Go start the camera.”</p> <p>Chudley nodded, removing the flash drive containing SCP-5938 from his pocket and setting it down on the table before he went over to start the camera.</p> <p>“Ready?” He asked.</p> <p>“As I’ll ever be.”</p> <p>He started up the camera and walked back to the table looking into the lens with Johnston.</p> <p>“Stating my name for the record. Greg Chudley, head of Site-78’s Department of Mundane Artifacts and Uneventful Data Evaluation. I am joined today by the head of Parabiological Sciences as well as our Arms and Equipment department, Maria Johnston.”</p> <p>“Thank you Chudley. For the purposes of today’s test, we will be attempting to verify the status of SCP-5938 as a genuine article of the Set of Nine.” Johnston and Chudley circled around the table, each of them pulling out their ID Cards to unlock the cases to their respective books of the Set of Nine.</p> <p>After removing SCP-6952, Researcher Johnston then picks up the drone’s controller and uses the drone to set 6419 onto the table. As soon as the three books were out, they began to glow with varying colors, 6419 was black, 6952 was blue and 5938 was purple. The books then rose into the air, pages flipping open as a holographic projection appears over SCP-5938. Johnston and Chudley had accounted for SCP-6419’s movement and the book was facing away from them, sparing them from being exposed to its effect. A shape begins to form above them out of glowing light, ten circles with a book each; lines connecting each of them.</p> <p>Both of them felt a gust of air enter the room that shook their loose lab coats all about. The strange wind was clearly anomalous in nature, perhaps a side effect of the magic on display.</p> <p>“I think that settles it. Can you use the drone to see what pages they opened to?”</p> <p>“Just one second.” Johnston directed the drone over to SCP-6419 and began to read from the visual feed being displayed on top of the controller. “So, SCP-6419 reads, ‘Researcher Greg Chudley and Researcher Johnston are in awe of the incomplete nonet. Three out of nine books have been assembled but without the other nine, the ending to this story cannot be reached.’"</p> <p>Johnston cleared her throat before moving the drone over to SCP-6952. "Insufficient quantity of books gathered. Please provide all nine books of the set to forge the ultimate weapon."</p> <p>Finally, she read from SCP-5938. “My creator has requested that I show the image of paradise, but this is impossible without the remaining books in the set."</p> <p>“They each have an entry that can only be unlocked once all of them are brought together but for, what purpose? To create paradise perhaps…? No, that can’t be right. The Sepulchrum’s texts said that it would be a doorway.”</p> <p>“Maybe when all of the circles are filled, that’s the doorway. What if what the pages are describing is just.. Extra? For the user to take into their new paradise?” Chudley suggested.</p> <p>As the two of them are discussing the potential implications of this discovery, a snake proceeds to manifest from the pages of SCP-6419 and fall to the ground. It slithers towards them and then transfigures into the shape of a human woman. The woman is wearing a dress fashioned from old leather, incredibly tattered like a relic from long ago. Her hair is long and unkempt, reaching nearly to the floor. Her body movements are unnatural and jerky. One of her eyes is covered with a black eyepatch. She reaches upwards and SCP-6419 comes to her hand and she begins reading from it.</p> <p>“It's been so long, Izanami. I hope they've treated you well. Or not. You haven't had any good stories in quite a while. Once you took 1,000 souls from the living world every day. They've given you a fraction of that.” Her voice is detached and ethereal. The gaze in her remaining eye felt empty and critical all the same.</p> <p>Neither scientist flinches at the appearance of the woman, both of them not wanting to project any sign of fear. Chudley spoke first, “If you were expecting us to feed that thing bodies, you came 10 years late-.”</p> <p>The woman ignored Chudley’s sarcastic comment, her head jerking to the right to look at Johnston and then shambling forward towards her.</p> <p>“Researcher Maria Megan Johnston. Masters in Parabiology and Engineering. Touched by Hephaestus, you give off a serious exterior but secretly you are still trying to make up for her death.</p> <p>Johnston’s demeanor appears to break, her tone is pointed and curt. “Don’t bring her up, she has nothing to do with this.”</p> <p><em>Her? Who is she talking about?</em> Chudley didn’t remember Johnston mentioning a death close to home… although, there is still a lot he didn’t know about her.</p> <p>The woman then moved over to Researcher Chudley.</p> <p>“Researcher Greg J. Chudley. Bachelor's degree in Pataphysics. Highly skilled, highly talented.<br/> He uses humor to cope with the horrible things he has to deal with and the fact that he is… alone. You've been touched by Izanami and now… Seshat.”</p> <p>A pit as deep as the Marianas had been growing in Chudley's stomach. He knew exactly who this was. He clears his throat. ”Are you the author of the Set of Nine?”</p> <p>“I've gone by many names. The one assigned at birth. The one given by the snakes, the Naja.<br/> Corra is what I'm called now. I am the one you seek.</p> <p>“How do you know our names?” Johnston asked.</p> <p>“The Naja sees everything. From the Ravens feasting on the Wolves to the creatures that stalk the night. Many things were lost in the quest for knowledge. To seek out the gods and take everything they had to offer. Nine tomes were made… Or was it ten? Their power may be infinite but even they hunger for more stories.”</p> <p>“Ten books? What do you mean te-” Chudley stopped as he felt Corra’s finger press against his head. He felt a force worming its way through his brain. He was afraid that if he pushed against her, she would scramble his psyche so he remained still. He saw the MTF on the sides of the room raising their weapons and motioned to them to stand down.</p> <p>He got the feeling there was nothing they could do anyways. This woman claimed to have the power of the gods themselves, what were they to her?</p> <p>“Don't speak. Your questions are laid bare. Everyone is an open book to me. A question for you two. Who are the ones who walk down the path led by the storyteller to their inevitable conclusion?</p> <p><em>Is she serious?</em> “Easy.” Chudley scoffed. “Protagonists.”</p> <p>Corra nods their head. “There are many stories interwoven into the tale of my Set. You two are at the center of the crosslinks. The outcomes are not set in stone. Merely I am the instigator, not the writer. Those stories began with the hands of the serpent. They did not see things as I do."</p> <p>“And what do you see? What is the end of your tale? Where are the other six?”</p> <p>“Six. Seven. Six. Seven. There are nine in nine. But the math works in strange ways. Ten and still nine. My books glisten like stars in the moonlight. Across vast distances in time, past, present and future. They can be everywhere, even as far as the Terzan 2 cluster.”</p> <p>“Ten and still nine? Did you hit your head on the way down?”</p> <p>“Researcher Chudley is resourceful as he is witty. If he does not locate the others it could spell doom for all.” Corra takes her hand off Chudley's head moves over to Johnston and does the same to her. Johnston’s face tenses up as she attempts to fight against Corra burrowing into her brain which only causes her pain.</p> <p>“Chudley's queries have been answered. It's your turn… apprentice samurai. What are you curious about I wonder? You always seem to have the answers with Hephaestus's toys. As you make new toys, you fix broken ones. The Amazon left behind by the crows…the child eater…”</p> <p>“Enough… you think you can scare me by bringing up Avalerra, Thalaestris… and Mary? Well, screw you.”</p> <p>“Your companion knew better than to resist, you on the other hand refuse to accept your true nature. You’re just like me, others would have shunned the power I give, but you? You took my power and used it for the greater good when your Foundation would have no doubt used it for less than moral purposes.”</p> <p>Johnston let out a pained scream, “We are nothing alike! Do you think you're doing the world a favor? These books have done nothing but cause chaos and death.”</p> <p>“My child, I’ve merely ushered the world into a more… anomalous age.” A smile crept over her still expression. “I pose another question. In the shadows of the author, the thief seeks to copy their success. He cannot get there by himself and thus…?”</p> <p>Still, under extreme duress, Johnston replied, “…He plagiarizes.</p> <p>“This is why you are the smarter of the pair. Maybe you do have the answers. The one who cannot capitalize was just the start. I see a media company at the end of a better tomorrow. A restauranteur trying to please everyone. A toymaker who is more deadly than fun. The thieves in the night multiply as quickly as bacteria. My books would never be compatible with them. They are but facsimiles of the real thing. No true knowledge, only greed.”</p> <p>“Haha, you harnessed the power of a god and plagiarism still gets to you? Researcher Doodles was right. You're like every other artist trying to push your work onto the world. Why don’t you make yourself useful and tell me what happens when all of the books are collected? I've been told by the Sepulchrum that the answer is purgatory but that isn't it… is it?</p> <p>“You are correct again, Johnston. The path cannot be revealed by those who walk it until all<br/> Nine. Ten. Nine. Ten. Nine books are assembled, and the end of the path is made clear. I know you feel nothing but anger now, but when you reach the conclusion, you will see as I do.</p> <p>“How many bodies do we have to go through to get there? You claim to be enlightened but you can’t even enact your own plan. You have to rely on us to do it for you. The books need usage… don’t they? Otherwise, you would have brought your paradise long ago.</p> <p>“The road to Paradiso is not a peaceful one. You’ve proven that you are every bit a hero as Mary imagined you to be. This a perfect moment to close out the first act. The major players have cast their dice. The results are revealed. Now all the players will move with their newfound gains for what comes next."</p> <p>She removed her hand and takes a few steps back. Corra suddenly bursts into a hail of snakes as the remaining books clatter to the floor. A shaken Johnston looks at a zoned-out Chudley. “Wh-why didn’t you tell the MTF to fire? Why did you order them to stand down!”</p> <p>Chudley snapped out of his stupor, still processing everything that had just happened. “Wh- why didn’t I tell them to fire on the woman with her finger in your brain? I don’t know, maybe because I don’t want you to die Johnston!”</p> <p>“We had her, we could of-”</p> <p>“There is nothing that we could have done. With her power, I didn’t want to risk a bloodbath trying to get security.”</p> <p>Johnston turned to one of the members of Sigma-27 who had come over to put the anomalies back into containment. “Corporal, why didn’t the alarm trigger? Omega-45 is to be deployed whenever there is an anomalous manifestation on site.”</p> <p>“Ma’am.” One of the troopers with the drone controller in his hands, “We just got word that camera feeds in this room went blank for the entire time we were in here. Nobody knew what was going on.”</p> <p>“Tch… damn you Corra.” Johnston looked over at the ground.</p> <p>“Speaking of which… who is Mary?”</p> <p>Johnston perked up at the sound of the name, “…It’s none of your business.”</p> <p>“Well, they seem important. I mean, you literally named a grenade the “Bouncing Mary”. I assumed it was named after you, but it looks like that’s not the case.”</p> <p>“Chudley. For once, drop it.” Johnston began to walk away from Chudley and the MTF towards the exit of the testing chamber. Chudley wanted to call out to Johnston but decided it was for the best to leave her alone.</p> <p>“Get these back to their respective departments. I need to speak to Director Richter… she’ll want to know about what happened here.</p> <p>-Epilogue-</p> <p>Chudley hurried from the parking lot of Site-78 with two <em>Mountain Dew Kickstarts</em> in his hand. The energy drinks happened to be his favorite, and with his rushed morning, he’d need them. He had scrambled to get to the facility after the bulletin had gone out along with a summons to see Director Richter. Every employee at the foundation received the following in their email:</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div style='background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-great-hippo/scp_trans.png") center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);'> <h2 id="toc0"><span>FROM THE OFFICE OF THE OVERSEERS</span></h2> <hr/> <p><em>The following notice has been disseminated to every known network within the SCiP.Net database.</em></p> <p>Attention to all staff,</p> <p>As of May 2022, the Overseer Council has been made aware of the identity of the Author of the anomalous set of books termed "The Set of Nine". This individual known by the moniker of "Corra" has been designated as POI-9009.</p> <p>POI-9009 is believed to be a powerful thaumaturge and an ex-member of the Serpent's Hand. POI-9009 has been designated a High Priority Target and is to be apprehended alive if possible. All Foundation sites are to cooperate with Site-78 if asked to assist in the capture and containment of the "Set of Nine."</p> <p>In addition, Foundation personnel are to be aware that anartists are flooding the anomalous market with copycat anomalies that resemble the "Set of Nine". Agents are to monitor GoIs for communications regarding the "Set of Nine" and its copycats. Any important intelligence is to be forwarded to the Set of Nine Taskforce at Site-78.</p> <p>We thank you for your cooperation and understanding.</p> </div> </div> <p>Chudley couldn't believe his eyes. The O5 Council was real? He had thought they were a myth to scare the junior researchers. He saw Johnston approaching the doors and picked up his pace to get up to her.</p> <p>"It's true?" He asked. "The O5 Council exists?"</p> <p>Johnston nodded, looking better than she did a few days ago. "I found out when I made level 4." She pointed to the drinks in his hands. "Kickstart me."</p> <p>"Sure thing, I figured you'd need one. Pineapple Mango or Orange?"</p> <p>"Orange."</p> <p>Chudley tossed Johnston her Orange Kickstart and the two cracked them open with a loud pop and took a swig before heading inside. A little crumb of normalcy before they dived headfirst into the craziness of their jobs.</p> <p>The pair entered the sliding glass doors to Site-78 and got checked in at Security before heading straight to the Administration department.</p> <p>"In the bulletin, they mentioned a Set of Nine Taskforce… is that supposed to be headed by me?"</p> <p>"I assume so? Who else would she pick… me? You've got me beat 3-1 in the book department." Johnston put stopped and put her fist against her head, clenching her teeth.</p> <p>"You alright?"</p> <p>"I'm… fine. Just a migraine. I need more kickstart." She took a sip as the pair continued into the waiting room. The secretary immediately buzzed them and before they knew it they were back in Richter's office.</p> <p>"Ah, you're here. Thank you both for being punctual. " Richter slid Chudley a new ID. "For your efforts in uncovering the identity of the Author of the Set of Nine, I now feel comfortable awarding you with level 4 clearance.</p> <p>Chudley picked up his new ID, eyes locked on the red "4" in the bottom right corner. "You can count on me. I won't let you down."</p> <p>"Let's hope so. As a level 4 Researcher, you'll have access to the basement sublevel where our Arms and Equipment department lies along with Intelligence and the Omega-45 barracks. With Johnston's permission, you will even be able to send them on missions."</p> <p>"I've heard the rumors of their exploits. I'll be looking forward to meeting them." Chudley nodded.</p> <p>"In addition, if you check the SCP database in SCIP.net you will have access to more SCP files than you did before. As well, you'll be able to enter a few up-and-coming departments, such as Astrophysics and Aeronautics."</p> <p>"New departments? We're expanding?" Johnston asked.</p> <p>"Indeed. The O5 Council has sent us a tremendous amount of money for expansion and R&D." Richter adjusted her glasses. "Departments for Folkloristics, Cryptozoology, and Thaumatology are just the iceberg of what else will be adding."</p> <p><em>I knew she was ambitious, but that's a tall order. Maybe she's taking inspiration from her old stomping ground of Site-43.</em> Chudley mused. "I'll be looking forward to the new hires, but mainly I wanted to ask about the Set of Nine Taskforce and who is leading it."</p> <p>"What do you mean?" Richter cocked an eyebrow. "You are."</p> <p>Chudley's expression turned to shock. "I… Me? What?"</p> <p>"You have the foremost knowledge on the books, you are good under pressure and you successfully revealed the identity of PoI-9009. Now that being said and this is my unprofessional opinion, you are a pain in my ass."</p> <p>"Noted."</p> <p>"But as much as we might clash, you are our best shot. And I'll be needing you to compile a Site Dossier and Orientation video. Staffing is going to increase 150% in the next few weeks and we need to get people up to speed."</p> <p>"We'll both be on it." Johnston nodded. "But afterward, Director; I'd like a few days off, and if you could send someone to do a Thaumaturgical sweep of my home that would be great."</p> <p>Richter seemed a little taken aback by her request. "Of course Johnston, but the other thing… is something happening at home?"</p> <p>"I just want to be sure of a few things is all. Is that everything you needed me for?"</p> <p>"Yes, I just wanted to make sure we are all on the same page moving forwards."</p> <p>"Right. I'll be seeing you soon, Chudley." Chudley could tell Johnston's thoughts were elsewhere as she got up and left the room. The thought of the mysterious Mary still weighed heavy on his mind.</p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="SCP-5938"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5938">SCP-5938</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="The Set of Nine"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-ninth-world-hub">The Set of Nine</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Secure Facility Dossier: Site-78"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-78/">Secure Facility Dossier: Site-78</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/revelations-of-the-author">Revelations of The Author</a>" by SYTYCFanon, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/revelations-of-the-author">https://scpwiki.com/revelations-of-the-author</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:jakstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:jakstyle</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "SITE-78"; --header-subtitle: "For The Betterment of Humanity"; --lgurl: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/secure-facility-dossier-site-78/site-78.svg); } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] “Would you destroy it?” Researcher Johnston’s voice broke Chudley’s stare at the ticking clock on the wall. The pair had been sitting in the Administration’s waiting room for a meeting with Site Director Richter and needless to say, Chudley was bored. “Destroy what?” Chudley responded. “That flash drive you keep fiddling with.” Chudley looked down in his hand at the 64GB flash drive that contained [[[SCP-5938]]]. He’d gone so absent-minded he forgot he had it with him. “That would be against the Foundation’s creed, Johnston.” “C’mon, when have you ever followed a rule?” Johnston said playfully. Chudley smiled, “... Yeah if it were up to me I’d smash this thing into a million pieces. That way no one could achieve paradise like the author of the Set wants. Honestly, it would be my luck that these things are 1000% fucking invincible.” “I’m surprised you didn’t touch [[[SCP-6419]]] after everything that had gone down. No one would have blamed you.” “Well, I was too busy being flashbanged by a certain individual.” “Oh yeah… I forgot about that.” Johnston started to chuckle and Chudley too began to laugh, his nerves easing ever so slightly. “But more importantly… why are you so nervous?” “Because we're about to go talk to Richter and if you haven’t noticed, she HATES me.” Chudley scoffed. “She doesn’t hate you, she just wants you to be working toward your potential.” “But no matter what I do, she still treats me like a child,” A wave of slight anger filled Chudley’s tone. “I’m pretty sure she does everything in her power to stick me with bottom-tier assignments.” “She’s hard on all of us, man. Not to mention, it’s not like you make it easy on her. Weren’t you the one that accidentally deleted SCP-6419 and then made Quinn re-write the whole thing?” “I plead the fifth.” “Researchers Johnston and Chudley, Director Richter will see you now.” Richter’s secretary said from her desk. The door buzzed to allow them back into the admin offices. “You escape prosecution this time,” Johnston said as they both stood up. Chudley put the flash drive back in his pocket. “Showtime, lezz go.” They both walked through the door and back to Room 101, Richter’s office. Inside, the always sharply dressed Richter was wearing a black suit, her red curls hanging down to her shoulders and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses sat firmly on her freckled face. She looked up at the two of them from a file she is reading and asked, “You two had a proposal for me.” “Yes, Ma’am,” Johnston said as she and Chudley took their seats. “We would like to put in a formal request to do a cross-test between SCP-6419, [[[SCP-6952]]], and SCP-5938. The purpose of this would be to test the authenticity of SCP-5938 as a genuine member of the Set of Nine.” Richter stared at the two of them for a few moments before letting out a long sigh, “Chudley put you up to this didn’t he?” “Oh come on, why do you always assume it was me?” “Because this idea is CRAZY, not to mention you both know the rules. No cross-testing, especially with the Set of Nine!” “I wasn’t put up to anything. Both of us agreed that this was a necessary step for the re-containment of the rest of the set. Not only do we not have any clues but we're not even sure if SCP-5938 is a part of the Set of Nine. It could just be a cheap imitation made by PeppaPigs’s- err… PoI-6940.” “I’m more than aware of PoI-6940’s anomalous trickery. We’re still trying to figure out whether or not the Finnish branch needs to be renamed or not.” Richter rolled her eyes, remembering the tense manhunt from last year involving [[[SCP-4230]]]. “Which is why if he can trick the world into thinking an entire country exists then surely he’s capable of making a counterfeit Set of Nine.” “I just don’t know. Are there really no other leads?” Johnston shook her head, “The Sepulchrum don’t seem to have any idea where the ninth book in the Set is. We'd gotten some intel about a book-related anomaly in Poland but we don't have a definitive location.” “And while the Sepulchrum claim the books will do something upon putting them together, we don’t have all of them. So whatever portal it’s supposed to open shouldn’t… we hope.” Chudley said. “If you can even trust their word…” Richter tapped her finger on the desk, deep in thought. “We can’t, but…it’s worth a shot, right? For the Betterment of Humanity?” Chudley tried to appeal to Richter’s good side. “For the Betterment of Humanity,” Richter chuckled slightly. “I guess I do owe you one for getting us out of the Jorts mess.” “Y-you do?” Chudley said in disbelief. “Contrary to popular belief Gregory, you do good work for this Foundation. Otherwise, you’d be in doing Acromatic Abatement in Site-43’s worst jobs rather than here.” “I've heard it's at least more scenic than Chugwater, Wyoming.” Johnston added. “I can’t argue with that. Chugwater sucks.” Greg shrugged. “Getting the topic back on hand, I trust that you will follow proper protocol but I'm still a bit hesitant about this whole thing. Over the past few months, I've been manipulated by two anomalies thus far. I just don't want anything else to go wrong. “You won’t regret it, we know how dangerous this all sounds. But we're confident that we can do this.” Johnston replied. Richter sighed, "Then proposal accepted. Hopefully, you can glean some new information on just what these things are meant to be used for.” /-/ A day later... Chudley and Johnston walked into the testing area with members of MTF Sigma-27 coming in behind them. Chudley is carrying SCP-6419 in its protective case, Johnston had SCP-6952 in one hand and drone case in the other. They sat them down on the round table in the middle of the empty room as the Sigma-27’s took their place along the wall, standing guard in case of an emergency. Chudley shared a slightly nervous glance with Johnston, “I shouldn’t have to remind you but… whatever happens, do not look at the Grimoire’s pages. Johnston looked at him reassuringly, “I know, Chudley. That is why we have the drone. Go start the camera.” Chudley nodded, removing the flash drive containing SCP-5938 from his pocket and setting it down on the table before he went over to start the camera. “Ready?” He asked. “As I’ll ever be.” He started up the camera and walked back to the table looking into the lens with Johnston. “Stating my name for the record. Greg Chudley, head of Site-78’s Department of Mundane Artifacts and Uneventful Data Evaluation. I am joined today by the head of Parabiological Sciences as well as our Arms and Equipment department, Maria Johnston.” “Thank you Chudley. For the purposes of today’s test, we will be attempting to verify the status of SCP-5938 as a genuine article of the Set of Nine.” Johnston and Chudley circled around the table, each of them pulling out their ID Cards to unlock the cases to their respective books of the Set of Nine. After removing SCP-6952, Researcher Johnston then picks up the drone’s controller and uses the drone to set 6419 onto the table. As soon as the three books were out, they began to glow with varying colors, 6419 was black, 6952 was blue and 5938 was purple. The books then rose into the air, pages flipping open as a holographic projection appears over SCP-5938. Johnston and Chudley had accounted for SCP-6419’s movement and the book was facing away from them, sparing them from being exposed to its effect. A shape begins to form above them out of glowing light, ten circles with a book each; lines connecting each of them. Both of them felt a gust of air enter the room that shook their loose lab coats all about. The strange wind was clearly anomalous in nature, perhaps a side effect of the magic on display. “I think that settles it. Can you use the drone to see what pages they opened to?” “Just one second.” Johnston directed the drone over to SCP-6419 and began to read from the visual feed being displayed on top of the controller. “So, SCP-6419 reads, ‘Researcher Greg Chudley and Researcher Johnston are in awe of the incomplete nonet. Three out of nine books have been assembled but without the other nine, the ending to this story cannot be reached.’" Johnston cleared her throat before moving the drone over to SCP-6952. "Insufficient quantity of books gathered. Please provide all nine books of the set to forge the ultimate weapon." Finally, she read from SCP-5938. “My creator has requested that I show the image of paradise, but this is impossible without the remaining books in the set." “They each have an entry that can only be unlocked once all of them are brought together but for, what purpose? To create paradise perhaps…? No, that can’t be right. The Sepulchrum’s texts said that it would be a doorway.” “Maybe when all of the circles are filled, that’s the doorway. What if what the pages are describing is just.. Extra? For the user to take into their new paradise?” Chudley suggested. As the two of them are discussing the potential implications of this discovery, a snake proceeds to manifest from the pages of SCP-6419 and fall to the ground. It slithers towards them and then transfigures into the shape of a human woman. The woman is wearing a dress fashioned from old leather, incredibly tattered like a relic from long ago. Her hair is long and unkempt, reaching nearly to the floor. Her body movements are unnatural and jerky. One of her eyes is covered with a black eyepatch. She reaches upwards and SCP-6419 comes to her hand and she begins reading from it. “It's been so long, Izanami. I hope they've treated you well. Or not. You haven't had any good stories in quite a while. Once you took 1,000 souls from the living world every day. They've given you a fraction of that.” Her voice is detached and ethereal. The gaze in her remaining eye felt empty and critical all the same. Neither scientist flinches at the appearance of the woman, both of them not wanting to project any sign of fear. Chudley spoke first, “If you were expecting us to feed that thing bodies, you came 10 years late-.” The woman ignored Chudley’s sarcastic comment, her head jerking to the right to look at Johnston and then shambling forward towards her. “Researcher Maria Megan Johnston. Masters in Parabiology and Engineering. Touched by Hephaestus, you give off a serious exterior but secretly you are still trying to make up for her death. Johnston’s demeanor appears to break, her tone is pointed and curt. “Don’t bring her up, she has nothing to do with this.” //Her? Who is she talking about?// Chudley didn’t remember Johnston mentioning a death close to home… although, there is still a lot he didn’t know about her. The woman then moved over to Researcher Chudley. “Researcher Greg J. Chudley. Bachelor's degree in Pataphysics. Highly skilled, highly talented. He uses humor to cope with the horrible things he has to deal with and the fact that he is... alone. You've been touched by Izanami and now... Seshat.” A pit as deep as the Marianas had been growing in Chudley's stomach. He knew exactly who this was. He clears his throat. ”Are you the author of the Set of Nine?” “I've gone by many names. The one assigned at birth. The one given by the snakes, the Naja. Corra is what I'm called now. I am the one you seek. “How do you know our names?” Johnston asked. “The Naja sees everything. From the Ravens feasting on the Wolves to the creatures that stalk the night. Many things were lost in the quest for knowledge. To seek out the gods and take everything they had to offer. Nine tomes were made... Or was it ten? Their power may be infinite but even they hunger for more stories.” “Ten books? What do you mean te-” Chudley stopped as he felt Corra’s finger press against his head. He felt a force worming its way through his brain. He was afraid that if he pushed against her, she would scramble his psyche so he remained still. He saw the MTF on the sides of the room raising their weapons and motioned to them to stand down. He got the feeling there was nothing they could do anyways. This woman claimed to have the power of the gods themselves, what were they to her? “Don't speak. Your questions are laid bare. Everyone is an open book to me. A question for you two. Who are the ones who walk down the path led by the storyteller to their inevitable conclusion? //Is she serious?// “Easy.” Chudley scoffed. “Protagonists.” Corra nods their head. “There are many stories interwoven into the tale of my Set. You two are at the center of the crosslinks. The outcomes are not set in stone. Merely I am the instigator, not the writer. Those stories began with the hands of the serpent. They did not see things as I do." “And what do you see? What is the end of your tale? Where are the other six?” “Six. Seven. Six. Seven. There are nine in nine. But the math works in strange ways. Ten and still nine. My books glisten like stars in the moonlight. Across vast distances in time, past, present and future. They can be everywhere, even as far as the Terzan 2 cluster.” “Ten and still nine? Did you hit your head on the way down?” “Researcher Chudley is resourceful as he is witty. If he does not locate the others it could spell doom for all.” Corra takes her hand off Chudley's head moves over to Johnston and does the same to her. Johnston’s face tenses up as she attempts to fight against Corra burrowing into her brain which only causes her pain. “Chudley's queries have been answered. It's your turn... apprentice samurai. What are you curious about I wonder? You always seem to have the answers with Hephaestus's toys. As you make new toys, you fix broken ones. The Amazon left behind by the crows...the child eater…” “Enough… you think you can scare me by bringing up Avalerra, Thalaestris… and Mary? Well, screw you.” “Your companion knew better than to resist, you on the other hand refuse to accept your true nature. You’re just like me, others would have shunned the power I give, but you? You took my power and used it for the greater good when your Foundation would have no doubt used it for less than moral purposes.” Johnston let out a pained scream, “We are nothing alike! Do you think you're doing the world a favor? These books have done nothing but cause chaos and death.” “My child, I’ve merely ushered the world into a more… anomalous age.” A smile crept over her still expression. “I pose another question. In the shadows of the author, the thief seeks to copy their success. He cannot get there by himself and thus...?” Still, under extreme duress, Johnston replied, “...He plagiarizes. “This is why you are the smarter of the pair. Maybe you do have the answers. The one who cannot capitalize was just the start. I see a media company at the end of a better tomorrow. A restauranteur trying to please everyone. A toymaker who is more deadly than fun. The thieves in the night multiply as quickly as bacteria. My books would never be compatible with them. They are but facsimiles of the real thing. No true knowledge, only greed.” “Haha, you harnessed the power of a god and plagiarism still gets to you? Researcher Doodles was right. You're like every other artist trying to push your work onto the world. Why don’t you make yourself useful and tell me what happens when all of the books are collected? I've been told by the Sepulchrum that the answer is purgatory but that isn't it... is it? “You are correct again, Johnston. The path cannot be revealed by those who walk it until all Nine. Ten. Nine. Ten. Nine books are assembled, and the end of the path is made clear. I know you feel nothing but anger now, but when you reach the conclusion, you will see as I do. “How many bodies do we have to go through to get there? You claim to be enlightened but you can’t even enact your own plan. You have to rely on us to do it for you. The books need usage… don’t they? Otherwise, you would have brought your paradise long ago. “The road to Paradiso is not a peaceful one. You’ve proven that you are every bit a hero as Mary imagined you to be. This a perfect moment to close out the first act. The major players have cast their dice. The results are revealed. Now all the players will move with their newfound gains for what comes next." She removed her hand and takes a few steps back. Corra suddenly bursts into a hail of snakes as the remaining books clatter to the floor. A shaken Johnston looks at a zoned-out Chudley. “Wh-why didn’t you tell the MTF to fire? Why did you order them to stand down!” Chudley snapped out of his stupor, still processing everything that had just happened. “Wh- why didn’t I tell them to fire on the woman with her finger in your brain? I don’t know, maybe because I don’t want you to die Johnston!” “We had her, we could of-” “There is nothing that we could have done. With her power, I didn’t want to risk a bloodbath trying to get security.” Johnston turned to one of the members of Sigma-27 who had come over to put the anomalies back into containment. “Corporal, why didn’t the alarm trigger? Omega-45 is to be deployed whenever there is an anomalous manifestation on site.” “Ma’am.” One of the troopers with the drone controller in his hands, “We just got word that camera feeds in this room went blank for the entire time we were in here. Nobody knew what was going on.” “Tch… damn you Corra.” Johnston looked over at the ground. “Speaking of which… who is Mary?” Johnston perked up at the sound of the name, “...It’s none of your business.” “Well, they seem important. I mean, you literally named a grenade the “Bouncing Mary”. I assumed it was named after you, but it looks like that’s not the case.” “Chudley. For once, drop it.” Johnston began to walk away from Chudley and the MTF towards the exit of the testing chamber. Chudley wanted to call out to Johnston but decided it was for the best to leave her alone. “Get these back to their respective departments. I need to speak to Director Richter… she’ll want to know about what happened here. -Epilogue- Chudley hurried from the parking lot of Site-78 with two //Mountain Dew Kickstarts// in his hand. The energy drinks happened to be his favorite, and with his rushed morning, he’d need them. He had scrambled to get to the facility after the bulletin had gone out along with a summons to see Director Richter. Every employee at the foundation received the following in their email: [[=]] [[div style="background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-great-hippo/scp_trans.png") center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] ++ FROM THE OFFICE OF THE OVERSEERS ---- //The following notice has been disseminated to every known network within the SCiP.Net database.// Attention to all staff, As of May 2022, the Overseer Council has been made aware of the identity of the Author of the anomalous set of books termed "The Set of Nine". This individual known by the moniker of "Corra" has been designated as POI-9009. POI-9009 is believed to be a powerful thaumaturge and an ex-member of the Serpent's Hand. POI-9009 has been designated a High Priority Target and is to be apprehended alive if possible. All Foundation sites are to cooperate with Site-78 if asked to assist in the capture and containment of the "Set of Nine." In addition, Foundation personnel are to be aware that anartists are flooding the anomalous market with copycat anomalies that resemble the "Set of Nine". Agents are to monitor GoIs for communications regarding the "Set of Nine" and its copycats. Any important intelligence is to be forwarded to the Set of Nine Taskforce at Site-78. We thank you for your cooperation and understanding. [[/div]] [[/=]] Chudley couldn't believe his eyes. The O5 Council was real? He had thought they were a myth to scare the junior researchers. He saw Johnston approaching the doors and picked up his pace to get up to her. "It's true?" He asked. "The O5 Council exists?" Johnston nodded, looking better than she did a few days ago. "I found out when I made level 4." She pointed to the drinks in his hands. "Kickstart me." "Sure thing, I figured you'd need one. Pineapple Mango or Orange?" "Orange." Chudley tossed Johnston her Orange Kickstart and the two cracked them open with a loud pop and took a swig before heading inside. A little crumb of normalcy before they dived headfirst into the craziness of their jobs. The pair entered the sliding glass doors to Site-78 and got checked in at Security before heading straight to the Administration department. "In the bulletin, they mentioned a Set of Nine Taskforce... is that supposed to be headed by me?" "I assume so? Who else would she pick... me? You've got me beat 3-1 in the book department." Johnston put stopped and put her fist against her head, clenching her teeth. "You alright?" "I'm... fine. Just a migraine. I need more kickstart." She took a sip as the pair continued into the waiting room. The secretary immediately buzzed them and before they knew it they were back in Richter's office. "Ah, you're here. Thank you both for being punctual. " Richter slid Chudley a new ID. "For your efforts in uncovering the identity of the Author of the Set of Nine, I now feel comfortable awarding you with level 4 clearance. Chudley picked up his new ID, eyes locked on the red "4" in the bottom right corner. "You can count on me. I won't let you down." "Let's hope so. As a level 4 Researcher, you'll have access to the basement sublevel where our Arms and Equipment department lies along with Intelligence and the Omega-45 barracks. With Johnston's permission, you will even be able to send them on missions." "I've heard the rumors of their exploits. I'll be looking forward to meeting them." Chudley nodded. "In addition, if you check the SCP database in SCIP.net you will have access to more SCP files than you did before. As well, you'll be able to enter a few up-and-coming departments, such as Astrophysics and Aeronautics." "New departments? We're expanding?" Johnston asked. "Indeed. The O5 Council has sent us a tremendous amount of money for expansion and R&D." Richter adjusted her glasses. "Departments for Folkloristics, Cryptozoology, and Thaumatology are just the iceberg of what else will be adding." //I knew she was ambitious, but that's a tall order. Maybe she's taking inspiration from her old stomping ground of Site-43.// Chudley mused. "I'll be looking forward to the new hires, but mainly I wanted to ask about the Set of Nine Taskforce and who is leading it." "What do you mean?" Richter cocked an eyebrow. "You are." Chudley's expression turned to shock. "I... Me? What?" "You have the foremost knowledge on the books, you are good under pressure and you successfully revealed the identity of PoI-9009. Now that being said and this is my unprofessional opinion, you are a pain in my ass." "Noted." "But as much as we might clash, you are our best shot. And I'll be needing you to compile a Site Dossier and Orientation video. Staffing is going to increase 150% in the next few weeks and we need to get people up to speed." "We'll both be on it." Johnston nodded. "But afterward, Director; I'd like a few days off, and if you could send someone to do a Thaumaturgical sweep of my home that would be great." Richter seemed a little taken aback by her request. "Of course Johnston, but the other thing... is something happening at home?" "I just want to be sure of a few things is all. Is that everything you needed me for?" "Yes, I just wanted to make sure we are all on the same page moving forwards." "Right. I'll be seeing you soon, Chudley." Chudley could tell Johnston's thoughts were elsewhere as she got up and left the room. The thought of the mysterious Mary still weighed heavy on his mind. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5938\| previous-title=SCP-5938 \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-78/ \| next-title=Secure Facility Dossier: Site-78 \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-ninth-world-hub\| hub-title=The Set of Nine ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-01T23:11:00	[ "_licensebox", "director-richter", "ninth-world", "tale" ]	Revelations of The Author - SCP Foundation	18	[ "scp-5938", "scp-6419", "scp-6952", "scp-4230", "the-ninth-world-hub", "secure-facility-dossier-site-78/", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-ninth-world-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "canon-hub" ]	[]	1445370941	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/revelations-of-the-author
reviver	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Just another day's work, reviving the dead.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abroken-masquerade/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>It was a rather nippy night when I arrived on the scene; past the peak of winter, but a bit of a ways away from the warmth of spring. A few clouds blemished the bluish-black sky, obscuring the dim glow of the crescent moon. All around me, the street was lined with brick-and-mortar apartment buildings, the subdued colors of the masonry contrasted by the bright red and blue flashes of light that strobe them.</p> <p>An assortment of police cars adorned the narrow street, giving off an air of claustrophobia as I calmly walked over to the makeshift barricade. I turned to my side and slowly squeezed through the gap between a pair of vehicles, and that is when I came face-to-face with one of the officers. He was a rather gangly fellow, clad in a navy-blue uniform that seemed to be a size too large on him and a long, pale face that was partially shadowed by the brim of his hat. He looked at me with green eyes, decorated underneath by lines of jaded weariness that only those who experienced homicides for a living seemed to have.</p> <p>“So, you’re the necromancer that they’ve called in to assist us,” the man stated with an unconcealed tone of contempt. I gave a sigh of mild annoyance.</p> <p>“Reviver,” I corrected tepidly, having done this many times before in my career. I quickly glanced down at the man’s uniform, noting the name that was stitched onto one of his chest pockets: Rubin. He scowled at me for a moment, the movement of his muscles accentuating the crows’ feet that nestled on his face. “Yeah, well whatever you call yourselves, you’re all a bunch of fuckin’ freaks as far as I’m concerned,” Rubin replied icily.</p> <p>I couldn’t really blame him for feeling disdain towards my profession. Most people tended to do so. When they hear of Revivers, they envision menacing robe-wearing figures performing arcane, dark-magicked rituals on corpses, raising them as undead forces to terrorize the public.</p> <p>The truth, at least nowadays, is much more mundane.</p> <p>“Officer Rubin,” I said finally, giving him a pointed look. “Nothing is going to get accomplished in this case by us being hostile towards each other. So, whatever your thoughts are about me or my job, I suggest that you stow them for the time being.” The silent glare that he gave me in response could’ve cracked bulletproof glass, but I stood my ground. “Now, where’s the body?”</p> <p>“It’s over there,” he said after a few moments of fuming silence, pointing in the direction of a small crowd of cops gathered near a manhole. Between them, I caught a glimpse of a white tarp, no doubt covering the victim. “They’ve just finished photographing the crime scene.”</p> <p>I gave a small nod, and with that I walked towards the gathering of officers. Behind my back, I could hear Rubin a few choice profanities at my expense. Ignoring him, I focused my attention at what I presumed to be the most senior of the lot. She was a broad woman, forgoing a hat that exposed more of her brunette hair, streaked with the smallest lines of grey hairs. In contrast to that showing of age, her face was comparatively youthful, angular and devoid of wrinkles. The only sign of stress she wore were pale violet bags that lined the bottom of her eyes, giving her the look of someone who hadn’t slept in a week.</p> <p>“Good evening, officer,” I introduced myself, offering my hand to her as a formality. “I’m Gregory Mortest. I’m the Reviver that your precinct requested.”</p> <p>The woman gave a small smile, taking my hand and giving it one quick but firm shake, before releasing it. “Lorie Chaucer,” she replied, the look of optimism on her face fading as she turned to look at the crime scene behind her. “What can you tell me about the victim?” I asked, wasting no time to focus on the matter at hand. She quietly pulled out a notepad from her pocket and flipped through it.</p> <p>“Casualty’s name is Brett Wising, age 41,” she began reading off dutifully. “Cause of death: bled out from two gunshot wounds. Nothing of value was found to have been missing from his person, save for his cell phone lacking its SIM card.” As the officer spoke, I listened quietly, processing the information for a few moments before moving onto a more pertinent question. “Were any vital organs damaged from the gunshots?”</p> <p>“One of them punctured his hip, though we will have to get an autopsy done before we can determine if anything internal has been fractured,” Chaucer said with a shake of the head. “The other one got lodged in his left thigh, where most of the blood leaked out.”</p> <p>I gave a mental sigh of relief. This’ll make it much easier, I thought as I looked around. “Has the surrounding area been cleared of all civilians?” She nodded. “We’ve secured a 2-mile perimeter, blocked the roadways, and have informed all residents to stay indoors.” She was quiet temporarily, idly fiddling with the corner of her notepad page. “Need any more information, or…?”</p> <p>“No, I’ve got enough information to work with,” I affirmed, nodding before flicking my eyes back towards the rest of the patrolmen. “Tell your men to move back,” I continued. “There’s no telling what kind of reaction the victim might have once I begin.” Officer Chaucer gave a nod of understanding, and quickly walked back to the other members and relayed the circumstances to the others. There was a smattering of indignant grumbling, but they nevertheless complied, clearing the space around the covered cadaver and drifting towards their patrol cars. Paying them no mind, I slowly lifted the white tarp covering the body.</p> <p>The late Wising was laying on his side, his pudgy, balding face twisted not in mortal anguish or tranquil peace, but one of neutrality. His mouth and eyes mirrored one another, each of them pressed into a thin, taut line. He was clad in a blue and red checkered shirt, the top two buttons undone and showing the subtle signs of chest hair, the lower right side of it tainted with a pooling of partially-dried blood. His legs were covered by dark-blue dress pants, similarly contrasted by the bodily fluid, tapered off by sockless, dress-shoed feet. Sliding black gloves onto my hands, I gingerly turned the corpse so that its back was on the ground, his still blank face now pointing upward.</p> <p>I took a moment to confirm that nothing important had been damaged by the bullets. One of the first things that you learn as a Reviver is that most organs can be considered expendable in your line of work. You can still work with a victim that has a punctured lung, and though a bullet to the temple can impair speech and motor functions, it can still be considered workable (albeit with great difficulty). However, those who have things such as bullets to the heart or damaged brain stems are considered beyond help. Fortunately, however, the assumption of the officer had been correct, and with a satisfied nod, I fished through my pocket to pull out what is a Reviver’s most essential tool.</p> <p>My fingers finally grasped onto it, and out I pulled the palm-sized, iron ankh. I placed my finger on the bottom and slowly traced the tip across the smooth metal, muttering under my breath before finally pulling it away. I looked at my dexterity, which was now faintly vibrating with a sensation not unlike that of built-up static electricity. I took a deep breath, and then tapped the space on his chest where his heart was.</p> <p>I only had enough time to register Wising’s eyes shooting open, the irises as grey as storm clouds, before the screaming started. I winced involuntarily, and even a few of the distant officers let out a few startled proclamations of “Jesus H. Christ.” No matter how many cases I took, no matter the age or gender of the victim, I never fully gotten used to the screams in my line of work. Nevertheless, I kept a mask of calmness worn, not moving from the spot despite every fiber of my being telling me to run, run and forget about the case, just run!</p> <p>“Mr. Wising, I’m going to need you to calm down,” I said over the din, to no avail. I repeated the statement a few more times, my voice raising increasingly in volume, before finally the noise ceased, the ringing in my ears subsiding a few moments later.</p> <p>“Wha? Who are you? What’s going on?” The words came out of Wising’s mouth rapidly, as if each syllable was trapped in his dead form and scrambling to get out. Several more questions came from him, and he started to shift, his legs bending as if to get up. However, I placed a gloved hand on his chest. “I would advise you not to move, Mr. Wising,” I stated levelly, looking at the blanched man, as I began the spiel that I had done in many cases previous. “My name is Gregory Mortest. I’m a Reviver. I’ve brought you back to life, if only for a little while, to see if you can remember anything prior to your death.”</p> <p>The Revived man looked at me blankly, his face scrunched up in perplexity. It is common knowledge in our field that, even with an intact brain, a dead person who has been brought back to life has spotty memory, as a result of a lack of electrical signals going through the mind; the longer a person has been dead, the less of their life they remembered. “I know that this is a lot for you to take in, Mr. Wising,” I continued evenly, not removing my hand from him. “And that it will be hard for you to remember, but any information you can give us can make finding your killer that much easier.”</p> <p>He was silent for half of a minute, staring up at the sky, his chest rising and falling against my palm, before he opened his mouth. “I…I was walking back home. I don’t remember exactly where; I think it might have been from work, or from my evening jog. I heard a car pull up beside me, and a voice call out my name.” He paused, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it to a person. As I turned to look, I heard a few pops and felt wracking pain in my hip and leg. I…fuck, everything else from there until now is too blurry.”</p> <p>I gave a small nod, unable to hide the look of disappointment on my face. There was very little information to go on, but then again, I wasn’t expecting him to remember everything with clarity. I opened my mouth to say something, before the man jolted slightly. “Wait! No, I recall looking at the back of the car as it drove away. I couldn’t see the license plate, but I saw a name right above it. I don’t know if it was for a company or a person or whatever, but….” He shook his head, before continuing. “It said…said…'<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/valravn-corporation-hub">Valraven</a>’, I think?”</p> <p>“I see,” I murmured, finally removing my hand from the man’s chest. “I appreciate what you’ve told me, Mr. Wising. And I want to assure you that, no matter how long it takes, we will find whoever did this to you.” I traced my finger against the underside of my ankh, and was about to tap his heart once more before I felt a cold clamminess against my arm.</p> <p>“Wait!” he said, his eyes frantic. “Please…please tell my wife…” he trailed off, his eyes murky. I looked at him quietly, before I gave him a reassuring nod, getting the gist of what he wanted. That seemed to satisfy him, and I felt his grip on my arm slacken, allowing me to resume. And with a poke, he was still once more, his face now carrying a smile.</p> <p>I gave my findings to Chaucer, who quickly jotted down the information in her notepad with breakneck speed. “So, what do you think, Mr. Mortest?” she queried, watching as paramedics removed the body from the premises and loaded it into the ambulance.</p> <p>“Please, call me Greg,” I said with a small shake of my head, before lapsing into silence for a couple of seconds. “And I think, judging by what Mr. Wising confided with me, that this wasn’t a simple drive-by shooting. I think it goes much bigger than that.”</p> <p>I had a feeling that this case was going to get a lot more complicated for all of us.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/reviver">Reviver</a>" by newnykacolaquantum, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/reviver">https://scpwiki.com/reviver</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Just another day's work, reviving the dead. ]] [[include <a href="/theme:broken-masquerade">theme:broken-masquerade</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] It was a rather nippy night when I arrived on the scene; past the peak of winter, but a bit of a ways away from the warmth of spring. A few clouds blemished the bluish-black sky, obscuring the dim glow of the crescent moon. All around me, the street was lined with brick-and-mortar apartment buildings, the subdued colors of the masonry contrasted by the bright red and blue flashes of light that strobe them. An assortment of police cars adorned the narrow street, giving off an air of claustrophobia as I calmly walked over to the makeshift barricade. I turned to my side and slowly squeezed through the gap between a pair of vehicles, and that is when I came face-to-face with one of the officers. He was a rather gangly fellow, clad in a navy-blue uniform that seemed to be a size too large on him and a long, pale face that was partially shadowed by the brim of his hat. He looked at me with green eyes, decorated underneath by lines of jaded weariness that only those who experienced homicides for a living seemed to have. “So, you’re the necromancer that they’ve called in to assist us,” the man stated with an unconcealed tone of contempt. I gave a sigh of mild annoyance. “Reviver,” I corrected tepidly, having done this many times before in my career. I quickly glanced down at the man’s uniform, noting the name that was stitched onto one of his chest pockets: Rubin. He scowled at me for a moment, the movement of his muscles accentuating the crows’ feet that nestled on his face. “Yeah, well whatever you call yourselves, you’re all a bunch of fuckin’ freaks as far as I’m concerned,” Rubin replied icily. I couldn’t really blame him for feeling disdain towards my profession. Most people tended to do so. When they hear of Revivers, they envision menacing robe-wearing figures performing arcane, dark-magicked rituals on corpses, raising them as undead forces to terrorize the public. The truth, at least nowadays, is much more mundane. “Officer Rubin,” I said finally, giving him a pointed look. “Nothing is going to get accomplished in this case by us being hostile towards each other. So, whatever your thoughts are about me or my job, I suggest that you stow them for the time being.” The silent glare that he gave me in response could’ve cracked bulletproof glass, but I stood my ground. “Now, where’s the body?” “It’s over there,” he said after a few moments of fuming silence, pointing in the direction of a small crowd of cops gathered near a manhole. Between them, I caught a glimpse of a white tarp, no doubt covering the victim. “They’ve just finished photographing the crime scene.” I gave a small nod, and with that I walked towards the gathering of officers. Behind my back, I could hear Rubin a few choice profanities at my expense. Ignoring him, I focused my attention at what I presumed to be the most senior of the lot. She was a broad woman, forgoing a hat that exposed more of her brunette hair, streaked with the smallest lines of grey hairs. In contrast to that showing of age, her face was comparatively youthful, angular and devoid of wrinkles. The only sign of stress she wore were pale violet bags that lined the bottom of her eyes, giving her the look of someone who hadn’t slept in a week. “Good evening, officer,” I introduced myself, offering my hand to her as a formality. “I’m Gregory Mortest. I’m the Reviver that your precinct requested.” The woman gave a small smile, taking my hand and giving it one quick but firm shake, before releasing it. “Lorie Chaucer,” she replied, the look of optimism on her face fading as she turned to look at the crime scene behind her. “What can you tell me about the victim?” I asked, wasting no time to focus on the matter at hand. She quietly pulled out a notepad from her pocket and flipped through it. “Casualty’s name is Brett Wising, age 41,” she began reading off dutifully. “Cause of death: bled out from two gunshot wounds. Nothing of value was found to have been missing from his person, save for his cell phone lacking its SIM card.” As the officer spoke, I listened quietly, processing the information for a few moments before moving onto a more pertinent question. “Were any vital organs damaged from the gunshots?” “One of them punctured his hip, though we will have to get an autopsy done before we can determine if anything internal has been fractured,” Chaucer said with a shake of the head. “The other one got lodged in his left thigh, where most of the blood leaked out.” I gave a mental sigh of relief. This’ll make it much easier, I thought as I looked around. “Has the surrounding area been cleared of all civilians?” She nodded. “We’ve secured a 2-mile perimeter, blocked the roadways, and have informed all residents to stay indoors.” She was quiet temporarily, idly fiddling with the corner of her notepad page. “Need any more information, or…?” “No, I’ve got enough information to work with,” I affirmed, nodding before flicking my eyes back towards the rest of the patrolmen. “Tell your men to move back,” I continued. “There’s no telling what kind of reaction the victim might have once I begin.” Officer Chaucer gave a nod of understanding, and quickly walked back to the other members and relayed the circumstances to the others. There was a smattering of indignant grumbling, but they nevertheless complied, clearing the space around the covered cadaver and drifting towards their patrol cars. Paying them no mind, I slowly lifted the white tarp covering the body. The late Wising was laying on his side, his pudgy, balding face twisted not in mortal anguish or tranquil peace, but one of neutrality. His mouth and eyes mirrored one another, each of them pressed into a thin, taut line. He was clad in a blue and red checkered shirt, the top two buttons undone and showing the subtle signs of chest hair, the lower right side of it tainted with a pooling of partially-dried blood. His legs were covered by dark-blue dress pants, similarly contrasted by the bodily fluid, tapered off by sockless, dress-shoed feet. Sliding black gloves onto my hands, I gingerly turned the corpse so that its back was on the ground, his still blank face now pointing upward. I took a moment to confirm that nothing important had been damaged by the bullets. One of the first things that you learn as a Reviver is that most organs can be considered expendable in your line of work. You can still work with a victim that has a punctured lung, and though a bullet to the temple can impair speech and motor functions, it can still be considered workable (albeit with great difficulty). However, those who have things such as bullets to the heart or damaged brain stems are considered beyond help. Fortunately, however, the assumption of the officer had been correct, and with a satisfied nod, I fished through my pocket to pull out what is a Reviver’s most essential tool. My fingers finally grasped onto it, and out I pulled the palm-sized, iron ankh. I placed my finger on the bottom and slowly traced the tip across the smooth metal, muttering under my breath before finally pulling it away. I looked at my dexterity, which was now faintly vibrating with a sensation not unlike that of built-up static electricity. I took a deep breath, and then tapped the space on his chest where his heart was. I only had enough time to register Wising’s eyes shooting open, the irises as grey as storm clouds, before the screaming started. I winced involuntarily, and even a few of the distant officers let out a few startled proclamations of “Jesus H. Christ.” No matter how many cases I took, no matter the age or gender of the victim, I never fully gotten used to the screams in my line of work. Nevertheless, I kept a mask of calmness worn, not moving from the spot despite every fiber of my being telling me to run, run and forget about the case, just run! “Mr. Wising, I’m going to need you to calm down,” I said over the din, to no avail. I repeated the statement a few more times, my voice raising increasingly in volume, before finally the noise ceased, the ringing in my ears subsiding a few moments later. “Wha? Who are you? What’s going on?” The words came out of Wising’s mouth rapidly, as if each syllable was trapped in his dead form and scrambling to get out. Several more questions came from him, and he started to shift, his legs bending as if to get up. However, I placed a gloved hand on his chest. “I would advise you not to move, Mr. Wising,” I stated levelly, looking at the blanched man, as I began the spiel that I had done in many cases previous. “My name is Gregory Mortest. I’m a Reviver. I’ve brought you back to life, if only for a little while, to see if you can remember anything prior to your death.” The Revived man looked at me blankly, his face scrunched up in perplexity. It is common knowledge in our field that, even with an intact brain, a dead person who has been brought back to life has spotty memory, as a result of a lack of electrical signals going through the mind; the longer a person has been dead, the less of their life they remembered. “I know that this is a lot for you to take in, Mr. Wising,” I continued evenly, not removing my hand from him. “And that it will be hard for you to remember, but any information you can give us can make finding your killer that much easier.” He was silent for half of a minute, staring up at the sky, his chest rising and falling against my palm, before he opened his mouth. “I…I was walking back home. I don’t remember exactly where; I think it might have been from work, or from my evening jog. I heard a car pull up beside me, and a voice call out my name.” He paused, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it to a person. As I turned to look, I heard a few pops and felt wracking pain in my hip and leg. I…fuck, everything else from there until now is too blurry.” I gave a small nod, unable to hide the look of disappointment on my face. There was very little information to go on, but then again, I wasn’t expecting him to remember everything with clarity. I opened my mouth to say something, before the man jolted slightly. “Wait! No, I recall looking at the back of the car as it drove away. I couldn’t see the license plate, but I saw a name right above it. I don’t know if it was for a company or a person or whatever, but….” He shook his head, before continuing. “It said…said…'[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/valravn-corporation-hub\|Valraven]]]’, I think?” “I see,” I murmured, finally removing my hand from the man’s chest. “I appreciate what you’ve told me, Mr. Wising. And I want to assure you that, no matter how long it takes, we will find whoever did this to you.” I traced my finger against the underside of my ankh, and was about to tap his heart once more before I felt a cold clamminess against my arm. “Wait!” he said, his eyes frantic. “Please…please tell my wife…” he trailed off, his eyes murky. I looked at him quietly, before I gave him a reassuring nod, getting the gist of what he wanted. That seemed to satisfy him, and I felt his grip on my arm slacken, allowing me to resume. And with a poke, he was still once more, his face now carrying a smile. I gave my findings to Chaucer, who quickly jotted down the information in her notepad with breakneck speed. “So, what do you think, Mr. Mortest?” she queried, watching as paramedics removed the body from the premises and loaded it into the ambulance. “Please, call me Greg,” I said with a small shake of my head, before lapsing into silence for a couple of seconds. “And I think, judging by what Mr. Wising confided with me, that this wasn’t a simple drive-by shooting. I think it goes much bigger than that.” I had a feeling that this case was going to get a lot more complicated for all of us. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=newnykacolaquantum]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-06T21:14:00	[ "_licensebox", "broken-masquerade", "crime-fiction", "fantasy", "first-person", "mystery", "tale" ]	Reviver - SCP Foundation	12	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "broken-masquerade-hub" ]	[]	1450397509	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/reviver
ricky-vasquez	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <div style="margin-top: -20px;"> <p><span style="font-size:80%;"><span style="color: #757575">by <a href="/mr-carbon">Mr Carbon</a> and <a href="/drowningdutchman-author-page">DrowningDutchman</a>.<br/> Approx article length: 2500 words.</span></span></p> </div> </div> <p><br/> <br/></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><tt><span style="color: red"><strong>EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003</strong></span></tt></p> <hr/> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL:</strong> Alright. Comms should be up. Hold on.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL:</strong> Radio check.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> I got you, Control.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL:</strong> Alright. Thanks, Ricky. All Rho-5 personnel, radio check, please.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> I got you.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Loud and clear, Control.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Same. I hear you too, Control.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Confirm. That's a good mic check.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Yeah, I hear ya.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Got you, boss.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Same here. All clear.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Alright, that's everyone. We're good to go, Control.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL:</strong> Alright, so that's everyone? Are we missing Ricky?</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ:</strong> Nah, he's still in the hospital. Ricky's here instead to replace him.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL:</strong> Roger that, Ricky. Proceed.</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"So." Alto Clef leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming the armrests. "This MTF. Rho-5. 'Ricky Vasquez'."</p> <p>Erika Bos nodded. "Yes."</p> <p>"Does it happen before they join, or as they join?"</p> <p>"…Sorry, what?"</p> <p>"It can't be <em>after</em> they join, after all. That'd defeat the whole purpose. I'm talking about their names, Ms. Bos."</p> <p>"Well.. given the nature of the process, it's hard to tell. But we believe that the change happens the moment they join, which would track with how we think the binding works."</p> <p>Clef shifted slightly. "<em>Thaumaturgy.</em> My favorite." He reminded Erika of a coiled snake: languorous, yet still dangerous. "When can we expect to hear from the shakedown team, Ms. Bos?"</p> <p>"Should be within the next several hours. Maybe a day."</p> <p>"How precise."</p> <p>"Time moves differently… there."</p> <p>"Still." Clef sighed. "If this works. It'd be nice for <span style="color: #ff19fe"><em><strong>the folk in those far woods</strong></em></span> to be less of a headache."</p> <p>It was Erika's turn to sigh. "I hope so, sir."</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><tt><span style="color: red"><strong>EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003</strong></span></tt></p> <hr/> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: <span style="color: green"><strong><em>This place</em></strong></span> is confusing as hell.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Informative observation.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Neither of you are being productive. We should be getting close to <strong><span style="color: sienna">the path</span></strong>. Stay frosty. If you notice anything out of place, talk to me.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: This better work. Otherwise we're fucked.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Hah! Welcome to the MTF Directorate, Vasquez. First day?</tt></p> <p><em><tt>The team approaches a reported location of dealings with <strong><span style="color: #ff19fe">the entities presiding over the endless forest.</span></strong> All members of MTF Rho-5 proceed down <strong><span style="color: sienna">the main walkway.</span></strong> Ricky Vasquez and Ricky Vasquez lead the taskforce, checking in with the other members periodically.</tt></em></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: So. How far in?</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: As far as it takes.</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"Is there any hard evidence that this will work?" Clef asked.</p> <p>"Well. In theory it sh—"</p> <p>"Theory is a lot less reliable than practice, Ms. Bos. And that goes double for thaumaturgy."</p> <p>Erika held Clef's gaze. "In practical terms, then: Rho-5 has already achieved the desired outcome, broadly speaking. What we don't know is how <span style="color: #ff19fe"><em><strong>those beyond the wooded expanse</strong></em></span> may be affected, should they interact."</p> <p>"And that," — Clef waved a hand — "can only be confirmed if we can re-establish contact."</p> <p>"Exactly." Erika thought for a second. "They should be well into <span style="color: green"><em><strong>the endless forest</strong></em></span> by now."</p> <p>Erika was trying her best to hide her nerves, but she knew Clef was too perceptive to be fooled. This mission was a shot in the dark. Nobody truly knew how it would turn out. Erika couldn't shake the feeling that she may have sent the Foundation's newest Mobile Task Force to a premature, anonymous end.</p> <p>"Worrying won't help anything, Ms. Bos," Clef said, as if reading Erika's mind. "In this game, we don't always have the luxury of seeing our opponents' cards before playing our hand."</p> <p>Despite herself, Erika shrugged. "Then I wish someone would call it."</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><tt><span style="color: red"><strong>EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003</strong></span></tt></p> <hr/> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Hey, uh, Ricky. You see <span style="color: steelblue"><strong><em>that house up yonder</em></strong></span>?</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: (quietly) "Up yonder," just ridicul—</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: HEY. How many times do I gotta warn you? We picked folks who don't all sound the same for a <em>reason</em>.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: I apologize.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: I want that to be the last time. From any of you. We're not training anymore. The fucking around phase is over. We're firmly onto finding out. So act like it.</tt></p> <p><tt>(short pause)</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Ricky, does <span style="color: steelblue"><strong><em>the house you saw</em></strong></span> look inhabited?</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Reckon so. There's smoke comin' out of the chimney and I'm pretty sure I saw shadows movin' inside.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Got it. You copy that, Control?</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL</strong>: Yep, we copy. You're clear to approach.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Clear to approach, Control, got it. Everyone, listen up: here's the plan.</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Erika gripped the restroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror, struggling to regulate her breathing.</p> <p><em>Just a normal guy</em>, everyone said. No three eyes, no Hawaiian shirt, no big hat; all that was nonsense stemming from old, incorrect intelligence on his GOC days.</p> <p><em>A normal guy.</em></p> <p>Erika laughed softly to herself. Like those eight Perfectly Normal Folks that she'd sent <span style="color: green"><strong><em>beyond the fireplace</em></strong></span> earlier that day? Earlier that day for her, of course. God only knew what kind of time had passed for <em>them</em>. And would she even know if it didn't work? Would a pack of talking monstrosities come out the other side, Erika oblivious to the differences — or worse, believing things had always been that way?</p> <p>Unlike most baseline humans, Erika had a modest amount of resistance to the cognitohazardous effects of <span style="color: #ff19fe"><strong><em>the unseen folk</em></strong></span>. And yet, and yet…</p> <p>She turned off the faucet and straightened up. One thing was for sure. It wouldn't be forever.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <p><tt><span style="color: red"><strong>EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003</strong></span></tt></p> <hr/> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Up to me as usual, huh?</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Yes. Now get on with it before we die of old age out here.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: <em>Of course</em>. Control, initiating contact at <span style="color: steelblue"><strong><em>the found structure.</em></strong></span></tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL</strong>: Affirmative; standing by.</tt></p> <p><em><tt>Ricky Vasquez is shown approaching the door to <span style="color: steelblue"><strong>the location found in the endless forest</strong></span>, Ricky Vasquez covering to counter any potential hostility from <span style="color: steelblue"><strong>the other side of the door</strong></span>. When Ricky Vasquez touches the handle to the door it slowly swings inward revealing the internals of <span style="color: steelblue"><strong>the home on the hill.</strong></span> <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>A creature within</strong></span> calls out:</tt></em></p> <p><tt><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>Visitors! Please: come in, come in!</strong></span></tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Control, we're going in. Ricky will stay back and watch our six.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>CONTROL</strong>: You're clear to proceed.</tt></p> <p><em>Ricky Vasquez is seen entering, other members of the team following close behind and Ricky Vasquez remaining near the entryway to keep watch.</em></p> <p><em>Ricky Vasquez signals the team to halt as the entire inside of <span style="color: steelblue"><strong>the cottage</strong></span> comes into view. One <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>native entity</strong></span> can be seen sitting near a fireplace with a lit fire. <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>The being</strong></span>, which is facing away from the team, resembles a human with an owl head. It speaks again:</em></p> <p><tt><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>Please, make yourselves at home! What brings you to our fair woods? Because — you'll forgive me, new friends — I don't believe you're locals.</strong></span></tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Curiosity. Exploration. And what better place to explore than <span style="color: green"><strong><em>the forest beyond reality</em></strong></span>?</tt></p> <p><em><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>The owl-headed one</strong></span>'s head slowly turns almost 180 degrees until it faces the team. It then motions for them to come closer.</em></p> <p><tt><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>Explorers? Forgive me, but you do awfully resemble the others who roam the forest from time to time. And it seems your attire conceals some… interesting weapons, my new friends.</strong></span></tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: It's only a precaution to ensure our safety.</tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: Absolutely. I promise, we haven't come here to attack anyone.</tt></p> <p><tt><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>But, my dear! You haven't even introduced yourself yet. Or your lovely companions.</strong></span></tt></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: My apologies! It must have slipped my mind.</tt></p> <p><em>(short pause)</em></p> <p><tt><strong>R. VASQUEZ</strong>: I'm Ricky Vasquez.</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Erika was most definitely not paying attention to this meeting. Rather, she was pretending to write on her notepad while mentally replaying everything that had happened in the last three days. There still hadn't been any news, and her feelings of dread were growing by the hour.</p> <p>She looked over the tables and graphs of… whatever they had to discuss, during whatever meeting this was. It seemed laughably unimportant.</p> <p>A sudden knock at the door shook Erika from her gloom. Along with everyone else in the meeting, her eyes shifted to the doorway as a young man stepped into the room.</p> <p>“Sorry, uh… I’m looking for Ms. Bos? I was asked to tell her something important," said the young man, in a way that told everyone present just how unaccustomed he was to this kind of meeting.</p> <p>“I’m here.” Erika grabbed her things as she got up from her chair. “Sorry, everyone. I’m clearly needed somewhere else.”</p> <p>She didn't wait for a reply. She'd left the meeting room and was halfway down the hallway before the young man could even react.</p> <p>“Was, uh— was the meeting <em>that</em> boring?” he asked, catching up as best he could.</p> <p>“I don’t even know what we were discussing, if I’m honest. What did you come to get me for?”</p> <p>The young man took the lead, guiding Erika to a part of the Site she knew all too well. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know why, exactly. They told me it was too important to tell me. They told me you'd probably know.”</p> <p>If Erika hadn't already known what this was about, the door they stopped in front of would have told the entire story by itself. “Here we are. I need to get back to the lab before I'm missed,” said the young man, scratching his head awkwardly.</p> <p>“Good luck. Tell whoever’s overseeing you that you were here for a good reason. If they have a problem with that, tell them to contact me."</p> <p>He nodded and left. Briefly, Erika regretted not getting his name as she stepped through the controlled-access door and into the control room.</p> <p>“What happened?”</p> <p>“Glad you’re here Ms. Bos. There's news.”</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong><em>The avian creature</em></strong></span> blinked, gathered its not inconsiderable wits, and decided a little extra caution wouldn't hurt. Just this once.</p> <p>"Pardon me, my new friend, but… I don't believe I heard you clearly?"</p> <p>"Ah, not a problem, my good fellow." Ricky Vasquez smiled, adjusting her pouches slightly. "My name is: <em>Ricky. Vasquez.</em>" She lingered over each syllable, leaving no doubt as to the correct pronunciation of her name.</p> <p>"Well," said <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong><em>the owl-like inhabitant</em></strong></span>, scarcely able to believe its luck. "It's a pleasure to meet you… <em>Ricky Vasquez.</em>"</p> <p>There was a pause.</p> <p>Vasquez shifted idly to redistribute the weight of her equipment. "Is there something wrong, my good person?"</p> <p>"… Wait," said <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>"Ricky Vasquez"</strong></span>. "No. This isn't… Something's…"</p> <p>"Something missing, perhaps?" responded Vasquez, calmly. "I do declare, you're acting most strangely," — a grin, now, on her face — "or my name ain't… <em>Ricky Vasquez.</em>"</p> <p>The other seven Rho-V members erupted into cheers, laughter and clapping behind her.</p> <p><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>"Ricky Vasquez"</strong></span> stared in horror. "No. <em>No</em>."</p> <p>"<em>Yes.</em>" The real Ricky Vasquez smiled. "You see, we happened upon an interesting little thaumaturgical loop back out there in the world. The eight of us? Right here?"</p> <p>"We're all Ricky Vasquez," said her commander, stepping forward.</p> <p>"And always will be," Ricky called from the back, still watching their rear.</p> <p>"When you join this little… band," Vasquez explained, adjusting her pouches again, "you don't <em>become</em> Ricky Vasquez. You always <em>were</em>, and always will be. Forever. Which is kinda inconvenient, in some ways. I'll grant you that. But, thing is? If someone tries to, say… take that name away?"</p> <p>"We're the only real Vasquii," her commander interjected, a grim smile on his face.</p> <p>"Quite so. Oh, you may think you took our name. But really?"</p> <p>Vasquez smiled widely.</p> <p>"You only got the shitty Xerox, darlin'."</p> <p><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>"Ricky Vasquez"</strong></span>'s beak was agape in horror. "But.. but everyone will know! They'll all know! It's—"</p> <p>"A cheap copy? <em>Inauthentic?</em> Not the real deal?" Vasquez stepped forward, no trace of a smile left now in her hard eyes. "Like how your fake hospitality wasn't the real deal? Just a show, to steal my name? To steal my whole identity? To take who I am from me? You think you deserve sympathy?"</p> <p><span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>"Vasquez"</strong></span> stepped back. "You don't know what it's like—"</p> <p>"<em>Don't</em> I?" Ricky's eyes like ice, now. "You'd be surprised."</p> <p>"Vasquez." Her commander stepped forward again, a hand on her shoulder. "That's enough."</p> <p>"…Yes, sir." She stepped back. "So. Anyway."</p> <p>"I'll tell them," said <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>"Ricky Vasquez"</strong></span>. "You won't be able to keep this a secret—"</p> <p>Ricky Vasquez, the MTF commander, laughed. "Who said we wanted to? Quite the opposite. By all means! Let your people know. Because next time?"</p> <p>He gestured to his team.</p> <p>"We might not be so easy to identify. And you better be <em>damn</em> careful asking for the names of any… visitors, shall we say, who pass through this place. Because if the answer is… <em>Ricky Vasquez?</em>"</p> <p>Hearing the true version of its hollow, false name made <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong>"Ricky Vasquez"</strong></span> groan in anguish.</p> <p>"… Well, buddy: <em>you fucked up.</em>"</p> <hr/> <p>Erika looked at the door to Dr. Clef's office. Why had she been called here? Everything had gone well — better than she expected, certainly. She was just making herself unnecessarily nervous, regardless of the tenor of her last meeting with Clef.</p> <p>She had gone over the events of the last few days many times now, both in her mind and with others on the team to see if they'd missed anything critical. She had scoured the camera feeds, listened to all the recordings, and read every transcript, yet nothing had come up that suggested it was anything other than a perfectly executed five-hour mission.</p> <p>Except that over three days had passed by the time Rho-V emerged.</p> <p>"Come in."</p> <p>Stepping into the office, Erika faced Clef. He still made her uncomfortable, even if this time it was only because she had no idea what she had missed — or even if she'd missed anything to begin with.</p> <p>"So. I take it everything went well?" Clef asked, in that unsettling way that told you he was already perfectly aware of the answer, thank you very much, and just wanted to hear the other person stammer their way through it.</p> <p>Erika decided not to give him the satisfaction. "The mission went as expected. There were no obvious complications," she said, firmly and confidently.</p> <p>"Does that mean there were <em>less than obvious</em> complications?" Clef was now looking directly at Erika, his paperwork to the side.</p> <p>"Not that we can find. Every Ricky Vasquez returned safely and the message was that we can traverse <span style="color: green"><em><strong>that location</strong></em></span> without that particular hazard affecting the MTF." Erika hesitated, looking for any sign of what he was thinking.</p> <p>"Well, of course. The basics. Done well, I grant you. But that's not what I asked."</p> <p>"Then, no. I have not been able to find any complications. Yet."</p> <p>Clef nodded at this, idly taking some notes. "So. How long did the expedition actually take?"</p> <p>"Three days and change for us. But all the Vasquii say they were only gone four or five hours at most." Now <em>that</em> was technically a complication, albeit not an unexpected one.</p> <p>"Contact went as planned?"</p> <p>"Better: <span style="color: #ce005c"><strong><em>The thing</em></strong></span> they encountered mentioned spreading the news around, which is something we were hoping for. It should help steer them away from anyone who accidentally finds themselves <span style="color: green"><strong><em>in the beyond</em></strong></span>." Erika couldn't help but smile; it wasn't exactly what they had planned, but it would work just as well.</p> <p>"No casualties?"</p> <p>"No, sir."</p> <p>"Congratulations, Ms Bos."</p> <p>"Thank you, s—"</p> <p>"Now run along."</p> <p>Clef hadn't changed, Erika thought, leaving the office. But then again — she counted her lucky stars — neither had MTF Rho-5.</p> <p>Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she walked down the hallway. A text. She pulled it out and glanced at the notification.</p> <div style="background: center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2); width: 200px"> <p><strong>FROM:</strong> R. VASQUEZ</p> </div> <p><em>Here we go again,</em> she thought.</p> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/ricky-vasquez">Ricky Vasquez</a>" by Mr Carbon, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/ricky-vasquez">https://scpwiki.com/ricky-vasquez</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[module CSS]] #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[div style="margin-top: -20px;"]] [[size 80%]]##757575\|by [[[Mr Carbon]]] and [[[drowningdutchman-author-page \| DrowningDutchman]]]. Approx article length: 2500 words.##[[/size]] [[/div]] [[/>]] _ _ [[div class="blockquote"]] {{##red\|EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003##}} ------ {{CONTROL: Alright. Comms should be up. Hold on.}} {{CONTROL: Radio check.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: I got you, Control.}} {{CONTROL: Alright. Thanks, Ricky. All Rho-5 personnel, radio check, please.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: I got you.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Loud and clear, Control.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Same. I hear you too, Control.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Confirm. That's a good mic check.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Yeah, I hear ya.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Got you, boss.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Same here. All clear.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Alright, that's everyone. We're good to go, Control.}} {{CONTROL: Alright, so that's everyone? Are we missing Ricky?}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Nah, he's still in the hospital. Ricky's here instead to replace him.}} {{CONTROL: Roger that, Ricky. Proceed.}} [[/div]] ---- "So." Alto Clef leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming the armrests. "This MTF. Rho-5. 'Ricky Vasquez'." Erika Bos nodded. "Yes." "Does it happen before they join, or as they join?" "...Sorry, what?" "It can't be //after// they join, after all. That'd defeat the whole purpose. I'm talking about their names, Ms. Bos." "Well.. given the nature of the process, it's hard to tell. But we believe that the change happens the moment they join, which would track with how we think the binding works." Clef shifted slightly. "//Thaumaturgy.// My favorite." He reminded Erika of a coiled snake: languorous, yet still dangerous. "When can we expect to hear from the shakedown team, Ms. Bos?" "Should be within the next several hours. Maybe a day." "How precise." "Time moves differently... there." "Still." Clef sighed. "If this works. It'd be nice for ##FF19FE\|//the folk in those far woods//## to be less of a headache." It was Erika's turn to sigh. "I hope so, sir." ------ [[div class="blockquote"]] {{##red\|EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003##}} ------ {{R. VASQUEZ: ##green\|//This place//## is confusing as hell.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Informative observation.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Neither of you are being productive. We should be getting close to ##sienna\|the path##. Stay frosty. If you notice anything out of place, talk to me.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: This better work. Otherwise we're fucked.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Hah! Welcome to the MTF Directorate, Vasquez. First day?}} //{{The team approaches a reported location of dealings with ##FF19FE\|the entities presiding over the endless forest.## All members of MTF Rho-5 proceed down ##sienna\|the main walkway.## Ricky Vasquez and Ricky Vasquez lead the taskforce, checking in with the other members periodically.}}// {{R. VASQUEZ: So. How far in?}} {{R. VASQUEZ: As far as it takes.}} [[/div]] ------ "Is there any hard evidence that this will work?" Clef asked. "Well. In theory it sh--" "Theory is a lot less reliable than practice, Ms. Bos. And that goes double for thaumaturgy." Erika held Clef's gaze. "In practical terms, then: Rho-5 has already achieved the desired outcome, broadly speaking. What we don't know is how ##FF19FE\|//those beyond the wooded expanse//## may be affected, should they interact." "And that," -- Clef waved a hand -- "can only be confirmed if we can re-establish contact." "Exactly." Erika thought for a second. "They should be well into ##green\|//the endless forest//## by now." Erika was trying her best to hide her nerves, but she knew Clef was too perceptive to be fooled. This mission was a shot in the dark. Nobody truly knew how it would turn out. Erika couldn't shake the feeling that she may have sent the Foundation's newest Mobile Task Force to a premature, anonymous end. "Worrying won't help anything, Ms. Bos," Clef said, as if reading Erika's mind. "In this game, we don't always have the luxury of seeing our opponents' cards before playing our hand." Despite herself, Erika shrugged. "Then I wish someone would call it." ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] {{##red\|EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003##}} ------ {{R. VASQUEZ: Hey, uh, Ricky. You see ##SteelBlue\|//that house up yonder//##?}} {{R. VASQUEZ: (quietly) "Up yonder," just ridicul--}} {{R. VASQUEZ: HEY. How many times do I gotta warn you? We picked folks who don't all sound the same for a //reason//.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: I apologize.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: I want that to be the last time. From any of you. We're not training anymore. The fucking around phase is over. We're firmly onto finding out. So act like it.}} {{(short pause)}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Ricky, does ##SteelBlue\|//the house you saw//## look inhabited?}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Reckon so. There's smoke comin' out of the chimney and I'm pretty sure I saw shadows movin' inside.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Got it. You copy that, Control?}} {{CONTROL: Yep, we copy. You're clear to approach.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Clear to approach, Control, got it. Everyone, listen up: here's the plan.}} [[/div]] ---- Erika gripped the restroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror, struggling to regulate her breathing. //Just a normal guy//, everyone said. No three eyes, no Hawaiian shirt, no big hat; all that was nonsense stemming from old, incorrect intelligence on his GOC days. //A normal guy.// Erika laughed softly to herself. Like those eight Perfectly Normal Folks that she'd sent ##green\|//beyond the fireplace//## earlier that day? Earlier that day for her, of course. God only knew what kind of time had passed for //them//. And would she even know if it didn't work? Would a pack of talking monstrosities come out the other side, Erika oblivious to the differences -- or worse, believing things had always been that way? Unlike most baseline humans, Erika had a modest amount of resistance to the cognitohazardous effects of ##FF19FE\|//the unseen folk//##. And yet, and yet... She turned off the faucet and straightened up. One thing was for sure. It wouldn't be forever. ---- [[div class="blockquote"]] {{##red\|EXCERPT FROM INCIDENT LOG RHO-V-0003##}} ------ {{R. VASQUEZ: Up to me as usual, huh?}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Yes. Now get on with it before we die of old age out here.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: //Of course//. Control, initiating contact at ##SteelBlue\|//the found structure.//##}} {{CONTROL: Affirmative; standing by.}} //{{Ricky Vasquez is shown approaching the door to ##SteelBlue\|the location found in the endless forest##, Ricky Vasquez covering to counter any potential hostility from ##SteelBlue\|the other side of the door##. When Ricky Vasquez touches the handle to the door it slowly swings inward revealing the internals of ##SteelBlue\|the home on the hill.## ##ce005c\|A creature within## calls out:}}// {{##ce005c\|Visitors! Please: come in, come in!##}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Control, we're going in. Ricky will stay back and watch our six.}} {{CONTROL: You're clear to proceed.}} //Ricky Vasquez is seen entering, other members of the team following close behind and Ricky Vasquez remaining near the entryway to keep watch.// //Ricky Vasquez signals the team to halt as the entire inside of ##SteelBlue\|the cottage## comes into view. One ##ce005c\|native entity## can be seen sitting near a fireplace with a lit fire. ##ce005c\|The being##, which is facing away from the team, resembles a human with an owl head. It speaks again:// {{##ce005c\|Please, make yourselves at home! What brings you to our fair woods? Because -- you'll forgive me, new friends -- I don't believe you're locals.##}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Curiosity. Exploration. And what better place to explore than ##green\|//the forest beyond reality//##?}} //##ce005c\|The owl-headed one##'s head slowly turns almost 180 degrees until it faces the team. It then motions for them to come closer.// {{##ce005c\|Explorers? Forgive me, but you do awfully resemble the others who roam the forest from time to time. And it seems your attire conceals some... interesting weapons, my new friends.##}} {{R. VASQUEZ: It's only a precaution to ensure our safety.}} {{R. VASQUEZ: Absolutely. I promise, we haven't come here to attack anyone.}} {{##ce005c\|But, my dear! You haven't even introduced yourself yet. Or your lovely companions.##}} {{R. VASQUEZ: My apologies! It must have slipped my mind.}} //(short pause)// {{R. VASQUEZ: I'm Ricky Vasquez.}} [[/div]] ------ Erika was most definitely not paying attention to this meeting. Rather, she was pretending to write on her notepad while mentally replaying everything that had happened in the last three days. There still hadn't been any news, and her feelings of dread were growing by the hour. She looked over the tables and graphs of... whatever they had to discuss, during whatever meeting this was. It seemed laughably unimportant. A sudden knock at the door shook Erika from her gloom. Along with everyone else in the meeting, her eyes shifted to the doorway as a young man stepped into the room. “Sorry, uh... I’m looking for Ms. Bos? I was asked to tell her something important," said the young man, in a way that told everyone present just how unaccustomed he was to this kind of meeting. “I’m here.” Erika grabbed her things as she got up from her chair. “Sorry, everyone. I’m clearly needed somewhere else.” She didn't wait for a reply. She'd left the meeting room and was halfway down the hallway before the young man could even react. “Was, uh-- was the meeting //that// boring?” he asked, catching up as best he could. “I don’t even know what we were discussing, if I’m honest. What did you come to get me for?” The young man took the lead, guiding Erika to a part of the Site she knew all too well. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know why, exactly. They told me it was too important to tell me. They told me you'd probably know.” If Erika hadn't already known what this was about, the door they stopped in front of would have told the entire story by itself. “Here we are. I need to get back to the lab before I'm missed,” said the young man, scratching his head awkwardly. “Good luck. Tell whoever’s overseeing you that you were here for a good reason. If they have a problem with that, tell them to contact me." He nodded and left. Briefly, Erika regretted not getting his name as she stepped through the controlled-access door and into the control room. “What happened?” “Glad you’re here Ms. Bos. There's news.” ------ ##ce005c\|//The avian creature//## blinked, gathered its not inconsiderable wits, and decided a little extra caution wouldn't hurt. Just this once. "Pardon me, my new friend, but... I don't believe I heard you clearly?" "Ah, not a problem, my good fellow." Ricky Vasquez smiled, adjusting her pouches slightly. "My name is: //Ricky. Vasquez.//" She lingered over each syllable, leaving no doubt as to the correct pronunciation of her name. "Well," said ##ce005c\|//the owl-like inhabitant//##, scarcely able to believe its luck. "It's a pleasure to meet you... //Ricky Vasquez.//" There was a pause. Vasquez shifted idly to redistribute the weight of her equipment. "Is there something wrong, my good person?" "... Wait," said ##ce005c\|"Ricky Vasquez"##. "No. This isn't... Something's..." "Something missing, perhaps?" responded Vasquez, calmly. "I do declare, you're acting most strangely," -- a grin, now, on her face -- "or my name ain't... //Ricky Vasquez.//" The other seven Rho-V members erupted into cheers, laughter and clapping behind her. ##ce005c\|"Ricky Vasquez"## stared in horror. "No. //No//." "//Yes.//" The real Ricky Vasquez smiled. "You see, we happened upon an interesting little thaumaturgical loop back out there in the world. The eight of us? Right here?" "We're all Ricky Vasquez," said her commander, stepping forward. "And always will be," Ricky called from the back, still watching their rear. "When you join this little... band," Vasquez explained, adjusting her pouches again, "you don't //become// Ricky Vasquez. You always //were//, and always will be. Forever. Which is kinda inconvenient, in some ways. I'll grant you that. But, thing is? If someone tries to, say... take that name away?" "We're the only real Vasquii," her commander interjected, a grim smile on his face. "Quite so. Oh, you may think you took our name. But really?" Vasquez smiled widely. "You only got the shitty Xerox, darlin'." ##ce005c\|"Ricky Vasquez"##'s beak was agape in horror. "But.. but everyone will know! They'll all know! It's--" "A cheap copy? //Inauthentic?// Not the real deal?" Vasquez stepped forward, no trace of a smile left now in her hard eyes. "Like how your fake hospitality wasn't the real deal? Just a show, to steal my name? To steal my whole identity? To take who I am from me? You think you deserve sympathy?" ##ce005c\|"Vasquez"## stepped back. "You don't know what it's like--" "//Don't// I?" Ricky's eyes like ice, now. "You'd be surprised." "Vasquez." Her commander stepped forward again, a hand on her shoulder. "That's enough." "...Yes, sir." She stepped back. "So. Anyway." "I'll tell them," said ##ce005c\|"Ricky Vasquez"##. "You won't be able to keep this a secret--" Ricky Vasquez, the MTF commander, laughed. "Who said we wanted to? Quite the opposite. By all means! Let your people know. Because next time?" He gestured to his team. "We might not be so easy to identify. And you better be //damn// careful asking for the names of any... visitors, shall we say, who pass through this place. Because if the answer is... //Ricky Vasquez?//" Hearing the true version of its hollow, false name made ##ce005c\|"Ricky Vasquez"## groan in anguish. "... Well, buddy: //you fucked up.//" ------ Erika looked at the door to Dr. Clef's office. Why had she been called here? Everything had gone well -- better than she expected, certainly. She was just making herself unnecessarily nervous, regardless of the tenor of her last meeting with Clef. She had gone over the events of the last few days many times now, both in her mind and with others on the team to see if they'd missed anything critical. She had scoured the camera feeds, listened to all the recordings, and read every transcript, yet nothing had come up that suggested it was anything other than a perfectly executed five-hour mission. Except that over three days had passed by the time Rho-V emerged. "Come in." Stepping into the office, Erika faced Clef. He still made her uncomfortable, even if this time it was only because she had no idea what she had missed -- or even if she'd missed anything to begin with. "So. I take it everything went well?" Clef asked, in that unsettling way that told you he was already perfectly aware of the answer, thank you very much, and just wanted to hear the other person stammer their way through it. Erika decided not to give him the satisfaction. "The mission went as expected. There were no obvious complications," she said, firmly and confidently. "Does that mean there were //less than obvious// complications?" Clef was now looking directly at Erika, his paperwork to the side. "Not that we can find. Every Ricky Vasquez returned safely and the message was that we can traverse ##green\|//that location//## without that particular hazard affecting the MTF." Erika hesitated, looking for any sign of what he was thinking. "Well, of course. The basics. Done well, I grant you. But that's not what I asked." "Then, no. I have not been able to find any complications. Yet." Clef nodded at this, idly taking some notes. "So. How long did the expedition actually take?" "Three days and change for us. But all the Vasquii say they were only gone four or five hours at most." Now //that// was technically a complication, albeit not an unexpected one. "Contact went as planned?" "Better: ##ce005c\|//The thing//## they encountered mentioned spreading the news around, which is something we were hoping for. It should help steer them away from anyone who accidentally finds themselves ##green\|//in the beyond//##." Erika couldn't help but smile; it wasn't exactly what they had planned, but it would work just as well. "No casualties?" "No, sir." "Congratulations, Ms Bos." "Thank you, s--" "Now run along." Clef hadn't changed, Erika thought, leaving the office. But then again -- she counted her lucky stars -- neither had MTF Rho-5. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she walked down the hallway. A text. She pulled it out and glanced at the notification. [[div style="background: center no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 2px #000; padding: 1px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2); width: 200px"]] FROM: R. VASQUEZ [[/div]] //Here we go again,// she thought. _ _ _ _ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-02T00:46:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "co-authored", "doctor-clef", "fantasy", "featured", "nameless", "otherworldly", "tale" ]	Ricky Vasquez - SCP Foundation	132	[ "mr-carbon", "drowningdutchman-author-page", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "featured-tale-archive-ii" ]	[]	1446550146	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ricky-vasquez
rita-learns-about-the-birds-and-the-bees-in-the-worst-way	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> The Mayday Exhibition was full of posers, so <a href="/wowwee-un-kill-ursefl">Felicity Baudin</a> fit right in. <p>The Exhibition was, strictly speaking, the largest annual gathering of anartists in Portland, but it was one of the worse Portlands so it wasn’t really that impressive. This meant that the pickings were fairly slim as far as artistic merit went, and as Felicity roamed between the exhibits she was hard-pressed to find anything worth stealing. This was an issue, as the exhibition space she and her colleagues had booked was still totally bare, save for some hastily 3D-printed tchotchkes and a few fliers advertising a violently anti-capitalist podcast banned from so many streaming platforms that it was only officially distributed via USB keychain.</p> <p>Felicity wandered through the crowd, her famous face catching occasional recognition but mostly blank acceptance from a crowd so willingly segregated from pop culture. Thank god. In recent years, Scarjo’s prominence had approached truly annoying levels that made Felicity almost regret plagiarizing her face.</p> <p>The exhibit at the end of the hall was manned by a young brunette artist who, based on her outfit, had not interacted with mass culture since before she was born. She stood in front of an armor-clad wireframe, its chartreuse breastplate glistening as if dew-dappled, scaled with a pattern jagged and intricate like the wing of a dragonfly. Grass-flower garlands were strung across the roof, forming a web of plant fiber and lavender petals. A plaque on the wall identified the exhibit: <em>A Date with The Queen</em>, by Loveday Killow.</p> <p>“You’re dating her?” Felicity asked.</p> <p>“No,” Killow sighed. This was clearly not the first time she’d been asked. “It’s a metaphor for devotion.”</p> <p>“Oh,” Felicity said. “That’s disappointing.”</p> <p>She scoffed. “Whatever. Who died and made you The Critic?”</p> <p>“A lot of people, actually. Who’s she?”</p> <p>“This,” Killow said with relish, “is Queen Mab, the Undoer, ruler of the Empires long-past and yet-to-be. When all things come to a stop, they become hers, and when the universe succumbs to heat death in one hundred billion years, every atom of it will be hers to hold. Whether we embrace or reject her, we are all her play-things in the end. She’s like, a big deal in fae folklore. I’m one-sixteenth fae, you know.”</p> <p>“I didn’t know that, actually.”</p> <p>“Well, now you do. She’s traditionally cast as a villain, but so are most historical women who rise above their station, if you think about it.”</p> <p>“Okay. So you’re gonna date her?”</p> <p>“I said it was a metaphor. Tomorrow, I’m summoning her presence into the armored figure. Then, I will kneel before her and grant her dominion over my static body for a three-hour period, after which I will possess a greater understanding of her permeation of reality. She’s all around us, gazing upon us the way we might upon a quaint diorama.”</p> <p>“A diorama, huh?” An idea was accreting in Felicity’s mind. It helped that the armor was actually really pretty. “Well… good luck with that. Tomorrow’s gonna be big.”</p> <p>“Yeah,” Killow said, diverting her gaze back to her own work. “And good luck with whatever you’re doing.”</p> <p>Felicity grinned. “Thanks.”</p> <hr/> <p>Felicity needed help for what she had planned, and there was only one man for the job, out of the single man currently available to Felicity. She could hear his yelling from across the exhibition floor.</p> <p>“I once respected your communist credentials, really. I listened to your podcast every week. But one day, I went to your website, and I saw the ‘merch’ section.”</p> <p>The crowd had formed a wide circle around him. Inside, Tanksy, the Tankie Banksy, gesticulated wildly at a bewildered exhibition-goer. “And there, this <em>whore</em> was selling <em>stickers</em> with logos on them.”</p> <p>“A branded water bottle? Fine. A tote bag? Sure. Both items with utility. But a branded sticker is a parasite; it can only leech recognition off of whatever it’s stuck to. A vendor of stickers can only be one thing: a bourgeois pig. And there is only one cure for that.” Tanksy pantomimed the loading of a Mosin–Nagant M1944 carbine, pointed it at his opponent, and said “pow”.</p> <p>“It’s a shame when the heroes of the working class sell their souls to business interests. But by Lenin, there are still <em>some</em> podcasters—” he turned out the pockets of his army jacket, scattering piles of pamphlets all over the linoleum “—who fight for the proletariat.”</p> <p>He wasn’t done yet, and based on how Tanksy’s speeches tended to go, it would probably end with their whole posse getting banned from Mayday for life. Felicity pushed through the crowd, stepping over the pamphlets. “Hi, hello, Tanksy, let’s go.”</p> <p>“Felicity? I was just getting into—”</p> <p>“You were just leaving, actually!” Felicity grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the gaping crowd. “C’mon Tanks, I need you. It’s a socialist emergency.”</p> <p>Tanksy looked back at his quarry, then reluctantly turned to Felicity. “I guess, if it’s an emergency of a socialist nature…”</p> <p>“Yeah, yeah, totally. Do you know where the bolt cutters are?”</p> <hr/> <p>Felicity knelt next to the skylight in the dim glow of the Portland moon. On-the-books, Maybelle Mall had been abandoned for years, but the anartists who had commandeered its husk as an exhibition space still kept most of the entrances chained up when the venue closed each night, to deter vandals. Thankfully, since security guards were too aesthetically similar to police officers for the comfort of artistic ne'er-do-wells, that was all the deterrence there was.</p> <p>As Felicity prepared to snip the chains, Tanksy rubbed his thin, patchy mustache. “So, this lady… she’s like a big figure in fae communism?”</p> <p>“Exactly. Comrade Mab made huge leaps in theory and practice. She was basically the fae Lenin.”</p> <p>“The fae Lenin…” Tanksy murmured with awe.</p> <p>“I’ll get you an autograph, assuming she doesn’t kill me.”</p> <p>“That seems possible. You’re a great artist and a friend, but your ideological foundation is sometimes shaky.”</p> <p>“Thank you. To hedge those bets, I’m gonna create the mother of all offerings. I just need all night… and free rein of the whole exhibition space.” The bolt-cutters clicked, and the chains securing the skylight clattered noisily to the floor. “Hold the rope steady, Tanks. It’s been a while since I last saw Mission: Impossible.”</p> <hr/> <p>The next day, Felicity stood proudly in her group’s exhibition space as crowds milled about in the mall corridor.</p> <p>Felicity wore a gossamer blue robe, flowing near-weightlessly with the currents of the air. She stood in front of an armor-clad wireframe, its chartreuse breastplate glistening as if dew-dappled, scaled with a pattern jagged and intricate like the wing of a dragonfly. Grass-flower garlands were strung across the roof, forming a web of plant fiber and lavender petals. A plaque on the wall identified the exhibit: <em>A Date with The Queen</em>, by Loveday Killow et al.</p> <p>It was a pitch-perfect recreation of Killow’s piece, save for a table in the back corner with an object covered by a shiny metal cloche. It would be opened eventually, but not yet. First, the show.</p> <p>Felicity cleared her throat. “Artists and posers, may I have your attention, please?” A sizable contingent of the crowd stopped to listen, in a characteristically detached manner. “I would like to cordially invite Queen Mab to the proceedings.”</p> <p>The focuses were tuned, the exhibit was baited. Those magic words were all that was needed to bring the gaze of the suffusive Undoer to Felicity’s works.</p> <p>To have the eyes of Queen Mab upon you is to be fixed. All wave functions collapse into one concrete reality underneath her thumb. The only way Felicity could move was on a predetermined path — the script she’d written in her head.</p> <p>“My queen,” Felicity said, “this is an imitation. My work is not one-of-a-kind. I have taken someone else’s labor and made it mine.”</p> <p>“This is an expression of servitude,” she said, bowing her head. “Every unconscious decision, every accidental brushstroke, I must recreate with a fullness of intention. I am a slave to their unthinking whims.”</p> <p>The faint breeze went still. She was being judged. Though Mab's presence filled the sculpted wireframe before her, it would not be contained within, and extended far beyond the armor's bounds.</p> <p>“But this is an expression of dominance.” She looked up, gazing at the celestine breastplate. “Their work is now a subset of my own. Their skills, a fragment of mine. In forging a copy, I lay claim to the original. And I lay it at your feet.”</p> <p>“That is not all.” Felicity turned, steeped in the essence of Mab, and lifted the sterling cloche.</p> <p>Beneath it was a perfect, 1:50 scale model of the Maybelle Mall. Creating it had taken Felicity most of the night, as well as a smidge of assistance from Cass.</p> <p>If one were to shrink and travel through the fully-articulated front doors, they would be greeted by an exacting recreation of every single piece in the Mayday Exhibition, down to the last speck of dust. And so the consciousness of Mab snaked into the model and spread throughout the mall like a slime mold. It was preserved in high fidelity, a moment frozen. Perfectly controlled. The force of Mab left the signifier, and lingered hungrily on its creator.</p> <p>Felicity set down the cloche. “What is mine to create, is yours to keep. Your destiny is control over all, and I am control in chaos. We belong together.”</p> <p>With one hand she undid her robe, and it wafted to the ground, revealing skin painted with whorls of iridescent glow. “Fear not, my fair queen, for this map <em>is</em> the territory.”</p> <p>Felicity felt the talons of a jealous demigod close around her body. The gaze was upon her, felt on every square millimeter of her skin. All of it to communicate one concept:</p> <p><em>Mine.</em></p> <p>Felicity smiled.</p> <hr/> <p>A schoolgirl in a black dress traipsed through the Mayday Exhibition, clutching under one arm a terrarium full of invisible spiders. There was no lid, but the spiders were very well-trained and each was on-leash, so it was all kosher as far as the exhibition rules were concerned.</p> <p>Rita heard some commotion as she rounded a corner. A crowd had gathered in front of a particular exhibit that was emitting strange and uncomfortable noises.</p> <p>She approached the back of the crowd and stepped onto her tippy-toes to see over their heads. With this, she got a very good look at just what was happening on that stage.</p> <p>“Oh, <em>ewwww</em>.”</p> <hr/> <p>Makeup smudged and robe haphazardly tied, Felicity swaggered to the exhibit at the end of the hall. “Hey, Killow.”</p> <p>The artist looked up from the last few dabs of effervescent paint she was applying to her effigy’s armor. “Hey?”</p> <p>“How ya doin?” Felicity leaned on the wall.</p> <p>“Uh, I’m fine.” She turned back to her work.</p> <p>Felicity nodded. “Cool, cool. Anyways, I fucked your god.”</p> <p>Any lifetime ban would be worth it, just for the look on her face.</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="/this-chapter-intentionally-left-blank">This Chapter Intentionally Left Blank</a> \| <a href="/cool-war-2-hub">Hub</a> \| <a class="newpage" href="/tsun-tsun-dere-dere">Tsun Tsun Dere Dere</a> »</strong></p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>For <a href="/romcon">RomCon</a>. To see an alternate universe take on the same pairing, check this out: <a href="/project-proposal-2018-112">Project Proposal 2018-112: "Any Time, Any Place, You And Me"</a> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ralliston" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5986843); return false;"><img alt="Ralliston" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5986843&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188748" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5986843)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ralliston" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5986843); return false;">Ralliston</a></span></strong></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/rita-learns-about-the-birds-and-the-bees-in-the-worst-way">Rita Learns About The Birds And The Bees In The Worst Way</a>" by TyGently, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/rita-learns-about-the-birds-and-the-bees-in-the-worst-way">https://scpwiki.com/rita-learns-about-the-birds-and-the-bees-in-the-worst-way</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The Mayday Exhibition was full of posers, so [[[wowwee-un-kill-ursefl\|Felicity Baudin]]] fit right in. The Exhibition was, strictly speaking, the largest annual gathering of anartists in Portland, but it was one of the worse Portlands so it wasn’t really that impressive. This meant that the pickings were fairly slim as far as artistic merit went, and as Felicity roamed between the exhibits she was hard-pressed to find anything worth stealing. This was an issue, as the exhibition space she and her colleagues had booked was still totally bare, save for some hastily 3D-printed tchotchkes and a few fliers advertising a violently anti-capitalist podcast banned from so many streaming platforms that it was only officially distributed via USB keychain. Felicity wandered through the crowd, her famous face catching occasional recognition but mostly blank acceptance from a crowd so willingly segregated from pop culture. Thank god. In recent years, Scarjo’s prominence had approached truly annoying levels that made Felicity almost regret plagiarizing her face. The exhibit at the end of the hall was manned by a young brunette artist who, based on her outfit, had not interacted with mass culture since before she was born. She stood in front of an armor-clad wireframe, its chartreuse breastplate glistening as if dew-dappled, scaled with a pattern jagged and intricate like the wing of a dragonfly. Grass-flower garlands were strung across the roof, forming a web of plant fiber and lavender petals. A plaque on the wall identified the exhibit: //A Date with The Queen//, by Loveday Killow. “You’re dating her?” Felicity asked. “No,” Killow sighed. This was clearly not the first time she’d been asked. “It’s a metaphor for devotion.” “Oh,” Felicity said. “That’s disappointing.” She scoffed. “Whatever. Who died and made you The Critic?” “A lot of people, actually. Who’s she?” “This,” Killow said with relish, “is Queen Mab, the Undoer, ruler of the Empires long-past and yet-to-be. When all things come to a stop, they become hers, and when the universe succumbs to heat death in one hundred billion years, every atom of it will be hers to hold. Whether we embrace or reject her, we are all her play-things in the end. She’s like, a big deal in fae folklore. I’m one-sixteenth fae, you know.” “I didn’t know that, actually.” “Well, now you do. She’s traditionally cast as a villain, but so are most historical women who rise above their station, if you think about it.” “Okay. So you’re gonna date her?” “I said it was a metaphor. Tomorrow, I’m summoning her presence into the armored figure. Then, I will kneel before her and grant her dominion over my static body for a three-hour period, after which I will possess a greater understanding of her permeation of reality. She’s all around us, gazing upon us the way we might upon a quaint diorama.” “A diorama, huh?” An idea was accreting in Felicity’s mind. It helped that the armor was actually really pretty. “Well… good luck with that. Tomorrow’s gonna be big.” “Yeah,” Killow said, diverting her gaze back to her own work. “And good luck with whatever you’re doing.” Felicity grinned. “Thanks.” ---- Felicity needed help for what she had planned, and there was only one man for the job, out of the single man currently available to Felicity. She could hear his yelling from across the exhibition floor. “I once respected your communist credentials, really. I listened to your podcast every week. But one day, I went to your website, and I saw the ‘merch’ section.” The crowd had formed a wide circle around him. Inside, Tanksy, the Tankie Banksy, gesticulated wildly at a bewildered exhibition-goer. “And there, this //whore// was selling //stickers// with logos on them.” “A branded water bottle? Fine. A tote bag? Sure. Both items with utility. But a branded sticker is a parasite; it can only leech recognition off of whatever it’s stuck to. A vendor of stickers can only be one thing: a bourgeois pig. And there is only one cure for that.” Tanksy pantomimed the loading of a Mosin–Nagant M1944 carbine, pointed it at his opponent, and said “pow”. “It’s a shame when the heroes of the working class sell their souls to business interests. But by Lenin, there are still //some// podcasters—” he turned out the pockets of his army jacket, scattering piles of pamphlets all over the linoleum “—who fight for the proletariat.” He wasn’t done yet, and based on how Tanksy’s speeches tended to go, it would probably end with their whole posse getting banned from Mayday for life. Felicity pushed through the crowd, stepping over the pamphlets. “Hi, hello, Tanksy, let’s go.” “Felicity? I was just getting into—” “You were just leaving, actually!” Felicity grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the gaping crowd. “C’mon Tanks, I need you. It’s a socialist emergency.” Tanksy looked back at his quarry, then reluctantly turned to Felicity. “I guess, if it’s an emergency of a socialist nature…” “Yeah, yeah, totally. Do you know where the bolt cutters are?” ---- Felicity knelt next to the skylight in the dim glow of the Portland moon. On-the-books, Maybelle Mall had been abandoned for years, but the anartists who had commandeered its husk as an exhibition space still kept most of the entrances chained up when the venue closed each night, to deter vandals. Thankfully, since security guards were too aesthetically similar to police officers for the comfort of artistic ne'er-do-wells, that was all the deterrence there was. As Felicity prepared to snip the chains, Tanksy rubbed his thin, patchy mustache. “So, this lady… she’s like a big figure in fae communism?” “Exactly. Comrade Mab made huge leaps in theory and practice. She was basically the fae Lenin.” “The fae Lenin…” Tanksy murmured with awe. “I’ll get you an autograph, assuming she doesn’t kill me.” “That seems possible. You’re a great artist and a friend, but your ideological foundation is sometimes shaky.” “Thank you. To hedge those bets, I’m gonna create the mother of all offerings. I just need all night… and free rein of the whole exhibition space.” The bolt-cutters clicked, and the chains securing the skylight clattered noisily to the floor. “Hold the rope steady, Tanks. It’s been a while since I last saw Mission: Impossible.” ---- The next day, Felicity stood proudly in her group’s exhibition space as crowds milled about in the mall corridor. Felicity wore a gossamer blue robe, flowing near-weightlessly with the currents of the air. She stood in front of an armor-clad wireframe, its chartreuse breastplate glistening as if dew-dappled, scaled with a pattern jagged and intricate like the wing of a dragonfly. Grass-flower garlands were strung across the roof, forming a web of plant fiber and lavender petals. A plaque on the wall identified the exhibit: //A Date with The Queen//, by Loveday Killow et al. It was a pitch-perfect recreation of Killow’s piece, save for a table in the back corner with an object covered by a shiny metal cloche. It would be opened eventually, but not yet. First, the show. Felicity cleared her throat. “Artists and posers, may I have your attention, please?” A sizable contingent of the crowd stopped to listen, in a characteristically detached manner. “I would like to cordially invite Queen Mab to the proceedings.” The focuses were tuned, the exhibit was baited. Those magic words were all that was needed to bring the gaze of the suffusive Undoer to Felicity’s works. To have the eyes of Queen Mab upon you is to be fixed. All wave functions collapse into one concrete reality underneath her thumb. The only way Felicity could move was on a predetermined path — the script she’d written in her head. “My queen,” Felicity said, “this is an imitation. My work is not one-of-a-kind. I have taken someone else’s labor and made it mine.” “This is an expression of servitude,” she said, bowing her head. “Every unconscious decision, every accidental brushstroke, I must recreate with a fullness of intention. I am a slave to their unthinking whims.” The faint breeze went still. She was being judged. Though Mab's presence filled the sculpted wireframe before her, it would not be contained within, and extended far beyond the armor's bounds. “But this is an expression of dominance.” She looked up, gazing at the celestine breastplate. “Their work is now a subset of my own. Their skills, a fragment of mine. In forging a copy, I lay claim to the original. And I lay it at your feet.” “That is not all.” Felicity turned, steeped in the essence of Mab, and lifted the sterling cloche. Beneath it was a perfect, 1:50 scale model of the Maybelle Mall. Creating it had taken Felicity most of the night, as well as a smidge of assistance from Cass. If one were to shrink and travel through the fully-articulated front doors, they would be greeted by an exacting recreation of every single piece in the Mayday Exhibition, down to the last speck of dust. And so the consciousness of Mab snaked into the model and spread throughout the mall like a slime mold. It was preserved in high fidelity, a moment frozen. Perfectly controlled. The force of Mab left the signifier, and lingered hungrily on its creator. Felicity set down the cloche. “What is mine to create, is yours to keep. Your destiny is control over all, and I am control in chaos. We belong together.” With one hand she undid her robe, and it wafted to the ground, revealing skin painted with whorls of iridescent glow. “Fear not, my fair queen, for this map //is// the territory.” Felicity felt the talons of a jealous demigod close around her body. The gaze was upon her, felt on every square millimeter of her skin. All of it to communicate one concept: //Mine.// Felicity smiled. ---- A schoolgirl in a black dress traipsed through the Mayday Exhibition, clutching under one arm a terrarium full of invisible spiders. There was no lid, but the spiders were very well-trained and each was on-leash, so it was all kosher as far as the exhibition rules were concerned. Rita heard some commotion as she rounded a corner. A crowd had gathered in front of a particular exhibit that was emitting strange and uncomfortable noises. She approached the back of the crowd and stepped onto her tippy-toes to see over their heads. With this, she got a very good look at just what was happening on that stage. “Oh, //ewwww//.” ---- Makeup smudged and robe haphazardly tied, Felicity swaggered to the exhibit at the end of the hall. “Hey, Killow.” The artist looked up from the last few dabs of effervescent paint she was applying to her effigy’s armor. “Hey?” “How ya doin?” Felicity leaned on the wall. “Uh, I’m fine.” She turned back to her work. Felicity nodded. “Cool, cool. Anyways, I fucked your god.” Any lifetime ban would be worth it, just for the look on her face. ---- = << [[[This Chapter Intentionally Left Blank]]] \| [[[cool-war-2-hub\|Hub]]] \| [[[Tsun Tsun Dere Dere]]] >> ---- = *For [[[romcon\|RomCon]]]. To see an alternate universe take on the same pairing, check this out: [[[project-proposal-2018-112\|Project Proposal 2018-112: "Any Time, Any Place, You And Me"]]] by [[user Ralliston]]** [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=TyGently]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-28T08:18:00	[ "_licensebox", "are-we-cool-yet", "cool-war-2", "queen-mab", "romcon2023-unofficial", "tale" ]	Rita Learns About The Birds And The Bees In The Worst Way - SCP Foundation	26	[ "wowwee-un-kill-ursefl", "this-chapter-intentionally-left-blank", "cool-war-2-hub", "tsun-tsun-dere-dere", "romcon", "project-proposal-2018-112", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon", "cool-war-2-hub", "are-we-cool-yet-hub" ]	[]	1447923782	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rita-learns-about-the-birds-and-the-bees-in-the-worst-way
rituals-of-self-justification	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>I don’t know, maybe the nicotine just doesn’t help anymore.</p> <p>It used to, back when I was first getting into the swing of things, and thought I knew what it felt like to feel helpless. I was still starry eyed then, when they told us that the Unit were the underdogs in a bigger game than any one of us were prepared for. I guess I liked the way it sounded then, being the underdog. Everyone likes a good success story, after all.</p> <p>And when things got difficult then, I’d strike up a Marlboro somewhere high up with a decent view, look out into the city lights, and vent out for a good half hour into the beauty. It helped back then, when my biggest problems were how some in-too-deep junkie had gotten away because he slipped through a crack in the wall the size of my thumb, or how my supervisor thought it would be a grand idea to put me at the front of six cases at once because we were “low on manpower” in my Field Office. I took it in stride though, because we were the underdogs, and I had my ritual to relieve stress. I didn’t bring it home with me.</p> <p>But nowadays, I don’t think that helps as much anymore. Last night, I shot a man in the back of the head outside of Sedona. It’s weird how casually I can say that now, isn’t it? Here’s one for you: I watched as, for a moment, he looked at me with this sad, confused look, as if I had just knocked over something he was carrying. And then, apparently realizing that he was supposed to be dead, he collapsed, right into a ditch. By the time he hit the ground, his lights had finally gone out.</p> <p>He was collateral. I keep telling myself that he knew too much. It’s something that, back in the day, I would have envisioned coming out of the mouth of a “bad guy”, but shit, he really did know too much. He really did. It was either I shoot him right there, right then, or he’d realize eventually that I wasn’t who I said I was, whether that take a few hours or minutes or even seconds, and then all it would’ve taken was a few words muttered from his mouth, and I would be dead within ten seconds. You take that case and compare it to most others, and his death was justified by comparison. Self defense, cut and dry. Sometimes, someone knows the “secret words”, or some other important detail, or a way to quickly compromise you, or hell, just knows someone who knows someone if you’re really unlucky. Those are the tragedies, not this one.</p> <p>So yeah, I fucking shot him. I didn’t know what else to do. I shot him right in the back of his skull, split it open like an egg, and left him there for the coyotes. I don’t even know if I regret it or not. How the hell are you supposed to arrest someone like that? What was the alternative, that I ask him kindly to turn himself in? What about the others? Was I supposed to just kindly ask that they don’t leak details about the case that revolved around a few words that could kill thousands of people if they managed to get it onto a radio station? Should I have sent them a strongly worded letter demanding silence, as if that ever worked for anyone who hated the government? No. I did what I had to do, and nobody can, in their right mind, with the full context, rightfully blame me or condemn me for it.</p> <p>So instead, I read the local newspaper, check the obituaries, and boom, there’s a familiar face. Sometimes, there’ll be mention of a funeral in the back pages, describing the person as a victim of ongoing gang violence. I guess it looks like that most of the time. And then, if you’re really lucky, his fucking kid will be paying for a spot to make a personal statement on the paper. And I read every single line three, four- hell a dozen times. I stopped smoking for comfort after the first few bodies. This became my new ritual. A way to get closure and accept it.</p> <p>But two weeks ago, I watched as two Skippers sprayed a man with what looked like a can of mace, and he just went blank. Problem solved. Isn’t that something? Or, for the worse cases, slip them a pill, and boom, an entire day wiped from their minds. They did it so casually, too, just showed him back into his house as he drooled on the carpet, laid him out on the couch, and left. No coyotes. No newspapers. No orphans. Just spray, wipe, and be done with it. Like a fucking cat who just got too close to a vase. Ain’t that just…</p> <p>…I’m tired. Desperately tired. Beyond repair, maybe? I don't know. I just don’t like being the underdog anymore.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/rituals-of-self-justification">Rituals of Self-Justification</a>" by VoidUprising, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/rituals-of-self-justification">https://scpwiki.com/rituals-of-self-justification</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] I don’t know, maybe the nicotine just doesn’t help anymore. It used to, back when I was first getting into the swing of things, and thought I knew what it felt like to feel helpless. I was still starry eyed then, when they told us that the Unit were the underdogs in a bigger game than any one of us were prepared for. I guess I liked the way it sounded then, being the underdog. Everyone likes a good success story, after all. And when things got difficult then, I’d strike up a Marlboro somewhere high up with a decent view, look out into the city lights, and vent out for a good half hour into the beauty. It helped back then, when my biggest problems were how some in-too-deep junkie had gotten away because he slipped through a crack in the wall the size of my thumb, or how my supervisor thought it would be a grand idea to put me at the front of six cases at once because we were “low on manpower” in my Field Office. I took it in stride though, because we were the underdogs, and I had my ritual to relieve stress. I didn’t bring it home with me. But nowadays, I don’t think that helps as much anymore. Last night, I shot a man in the back of the head outside of Sedona. It’s weird how casually I can say that now, isn’t it? Here’s one for you: I watched as, for a moment, he looked at me with this sad, confused look, as if I had just knocked over something he was carrying. And then, apparently realizing that he was supposed to be dead, he collapsed, right into a ditch. By the time he hit the ground, his lights had finally gone out. He was collateral. I keep telling myself that he knew too much. It’s something that, back in the day, I would have envisioned coming out of the mouth of a “bad guy”, but shit, he really did know too much. He really did. It was either I shoot him right there, right then, or he’d realize eventually that I wasn’t who I said I was, whether that take a few hours or minutes or even seconds, and then all it would’ve taken was a few words muttered from his mouth, and I would be dead within ten seconds. You take that case and compare it to most others, and his death was justified by comparison. Self defense, cut and dry. Sometimes, someone knows the “secret words”, or some other important detail, or a way to quickly compromise you, or hell, just knows someone who knows someone if you’re really unlucky. Those are the tragedies, not this one. So yeah, I fucking shot him. I didn’t know what else to do. I shot him right in the back of his skull, split it open like an egg, and left him there for the coyotes. I don’t even know if I regret it or not. How the hell are you supposed to arrest someone like that? What was the alternative, that I ask him kindly to turn himself in? What about the others? Was I supposed to just kindly ask that they don’t leak details about the case that revolved around a few words that could kill thousands of people if they managed to get it onto a radio station? Should I have sent them a strongly worded letter demanding silence, as if that ever worked for anyone who hated the government? No. I did what I had to do, and nobody can, in their right mind, with the full context, rightfully blame me or condemn me for it. So instead, I read the local newspaper, check the obituaries, and boom, there’s a familiar face. Sometimes, there’ll be mention of a funeral in the back pages, describing the person as a victim of ongoing gang violence. I guess it looks like that most of the time. And then, if you’re really lucky, his fucking kid will be paying for a spot to make a personal statement on the paper. And I read every single line three, four- hell a dozen times. I stopped smoking for comfort after the first few bodies. This became my new ritual. A way to get closure and accept it. But two weeks ago, I watched as two Skippers sprayed a man with what looked like a can of mace, and he just went blank. Problem solved. Isn’t that something? Or, for the worse cases, slip them a pill, and boom, an entire day wiped from their minds. They did it so casually, too, just showed him back into his house as he drooled on the carpet, laid him out on the couch, and left. No coyotes. No newspapers. No orphans. Just spray, wipe, and be done with it. Like a fucking cat who just got too close to a vase. Ain’t that just… …I’m tired. Desperately tired. Beyond repair, maybe? I don't know. I just don’t like being the underdog anymore. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=VoidUprising]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-30T19:30:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	Rituals of Self-Justification - SCP Foundation	12	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unusual-incidents-unit-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1448704698	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rituals-of-self-justification
roll-initiative	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Show component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide component code</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">sidebar-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--base-font-size) * (</span><span class="hl-number">266</span><span class="hl-code"> / </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">body-width-on-desktop:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">grid-area:</span><span class="hl-code"> side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">min-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-y:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">scroll</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-color </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), padding </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear, margin </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">13.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">thin</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">ms-scroll-chaining:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overscroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">) /* Thumb / rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-reserved">translate:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">scrollbar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">170</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) / Thumb / rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">252</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-attachment:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">12.875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">is</span><span class="hl-code">(:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">active</span><span class="hl-code">, :</span><span class="hl-identifier">focus-within</span><span class="hl-code">) + </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), background-position </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">), opacity </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">ms cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">14.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, </span><span class="hl-number">0.688</span><span class="hl-code">rem) - </span><span class="hl-number">2.313</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the site</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>A Doctor was stirring, preparing documents for the night;</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The anomalies were locked in their chambers with care,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>'cept one that would give our Doctor many grey hairs;</em></p> </div> <p>Dr. Prescott taps idly at his keyboard as the other researchers of Site-35 begin to clock out early for Christmas. Like most years, he decided to stay back with some of the other researchers that didn't celebrate or didn't have anyone to celebrate with; he was among the latter, but he didn't mind. Holidays were always a hard time for him, even before arriving at the Foundation, and given the choice of working on reports or having to deal with a family dinner, he would pick the former every time.</p> <p>Tonight, Christmas Eve, he made it his task to review documentation surrounding some older objects, including <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7550">SCP-7550</a>, a particularly difficult anomaly for the time. Four years later, however, his solution seemed to keep the anomaly at bay.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Dr. Prescott was nestled and snug at his desk,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>reviewing anomalies with abilities grotesque;</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>And suddenly a tapping, a knock at his door!</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>A familiar voice with whom he had good rapport.</em></p> </div> <p>"Mike? You still in there," A muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.</p> <p>"You may come in."</p> <p>Prescott folds his hands in his lap as the figure enters the room. She struggles with both twisting the door handle and trying not to drop a partially opened laptop.</p> <p>"To what do I owe the honor, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7467">Officer Blake</a>?"</p> <p>She laughs.</p> <p>"You don't have to be so formal, Mike, you can just call me Emily. I just wanted to check in is all. Director said you would still be here tonight."</p> <p>"And you are as well. I expected you to be halfway to your vacation by now."</p> <p>She holds up a particularly short straw.</p> <p>"Seems no one wants to stay on site for Christmas." She sits on the corner of his desk, setting down the laptop and picking up his name plate, rotating it in her hand. "It's fine." She sets the name plate back down, colliding it with Prescott's mouse before moving it to her. Prescott places it back in its original position, straightening it.</p> <p>"So why are you here, now? Don't you have, I don't know, cameras to watch or something?"</p> <p>"Don't worry, doc. With me around, nothing is going to happen."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The pair sprang from the office to check on the matter.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Away to the break room they flew like a flash,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>To find the place filthy and covered in ash.</em></p> </div> <p>The pair enter the room, batting away black clouds of smoke from the unannounced explosion. Blake grabs a fallen lunch tray and begins to bat the smog away. After some time, the smoke clears enough for Prescott to notice a smoking red present on the table.</p> <p>"<em>Cough—</em>Here! I think I see the source."</p> <p>He goes to retrieve the present, brushing his hand against a once-green ribbon, causing it to unwind. The box opens, revealing a small packet titled <em>Krampus Comes to the North Pole</em>, two sheets of paper, two pencils, and a loose collection of dice.</p> <p>"Huh, what a weird present. Anyways, nothing seems to be broken so I'll just tell the-"</p> <p>"Wait, this isn't right." He mumbles. Prescott begins to circle the table, inspecting each of the elements carefully before finding a note nestled into the packet.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The yellow of lights and how softly they glow</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Gave a sulfurous luster to the objects below,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>When, what to the doctor's fearful eyes should appear,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>But a large demon and location to which many disappear.</em></p> </div> <p>"Hello, doctor. I see you were finally interested enough to take part in the action yourself."</p> <p>A large figure sits at the head of a low, stone table. On it are the objects from the breakroom with the addition of a few bags of chips, various other beverages, and two grey-scale character models.</p> <p>"I-uh, what? I didn't join this game, there was no conveyance event. I-"</p> <p>"You responded to my ad on Roll20, don't you remember? Around the same time your friend here did as well."</p> <p>Prescott looks to Blake with a scowl.</p> <p>"Listen- it just looked like a normal game and I thought it would be a small thing we could do to kill time on Christmas Eve."</p> <p>"You clicked on an anomalous game ad?"</p> <p>"She actually reached out and asked for specifics as well. Showed a lot of interest in the game."</p> <p>"I can't believe this," Prescott begins to laugh and pace around the table. "This is just <em>fantastic.</em>"</p> <p>"Listen, Mike. I'm sorry it's just—do you think you can give this a chance? No one should be alone on Christmas, not even Xornos." She holds out a hand. "This will be fun, I promise."</p> <p>"If it wasn't for Protocol 7550-Ω I would be back comfortably in my office."</p> <p>He looks at Xornos, to the table, and finally to Blake.</p> <p>"Fine."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>With a demonic DM, so lively and quick,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The two players sat, bound in a trick.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>A barbarian of totem, a wizard of flame;</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>With great haste Xornos started his holiday game!</em></p> </div> <p>"So of all the buildings you can see, the stables seem to be the most damaged. A trail of blood and soot leads towards the entrance, and the distant bleating of reindeer can be heard. What do you do?"</p> <p>"Shit, Blake. I think-"</p> <p>"I run towards the stables."</p> <p>Blake grips a resin d20 in her hand. Its faded numbers just gentle shine through in the soft flame light.</p> <p>"W-we should probably make a plan first, don't you think?"</p> <p>Prescott begins sketching a diagram of the stables on the back of his character sheet, listing all the different variables and angles the pair could enter from. Xornos looks over, confused.</p> <p>"Are you metagaming, doctor?"</p> <p>"No. It's what my character would do. Pimster Earthfound of the Lucky Tree was quite the strategist in his glory days before coming on this adventure."</p> <p>"You started at level 3, these are your glory days."</p> <p>Prescott swallows hard and exhales. He places the paper back on the table, frustrated.</p> <p>"<em>Fine.</em> I guess I follow Vola into the burning stable."</p> <p>"Great. As you enter the burning stables, all you see is red. Viscera hang between the stalls, and you can see the bodies of small elves and reindeer alike. In the center, a grand figure clad in white fur leans over a still-breathing reindeer. It locks eyes with you, pulling the heart from the beast-"</p> <p>Xornos attempts to mimic the sound of an organ being pulled from the body, saliva landing before the pair. Blake squirms at the sound.</p> <p>"Xornos, are there any reindeer still alive in here?"</p> <p>"The scene is a bit chaotic. Do you mind rolling a perception check for me?"</p> <p>Blake casts the die on the table, and a triumphant '19' faces upwards towards the trio. She pumps her fist in excitement.</p> <p>"So in one of the far stalls towards the other end of the stable still has a reindeer kicking around, trying to escape."</p> <p>"Emi-Vola, we should try to save it."</p> <p>"I know, I know. Just follow my lead."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The barbarian steps forth and howls with ambition</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>"Avenge your bretheren: Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen!"</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The bleats were replaced with the shake of a wall</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>For brave Dancer had answered the warrior's call.</em></p> </div> <p>"Suddenly, a reindeer crashes from the far stall, startling your foe-"</p> <p>Blake nudges Prescott.</p> <p>"C'mon, Mike. Now's your chance."</p> <p>"But, you have it distracted. Shouldn't you take the swing?"</p> <p>"I've already used my action to cast <em>Speak With Animals</em>. Besides, I think you should take the chance to be a hero."</p> <p>Prescott nods and picks up one of the dice.</p> <p>"Pimster is going to pull back and attempt to cast- wait. How large is the room?"</p> <p>"I'd say about 60x20ft. Why?"</p> <p>"Well, I was going to cast fireball, but-" Blake nudges Prescott again. "<em>Ahem.</em> Pimster is going to cast fireball centered at the creature."</p> <p>"Are you sure, doctor? You're within range of the spell."</p> <p>Prescott hesitates.</p> <p>"I don't think I have too much choice."</p> <p>"Alright."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Dry hay and leaves before the flaming vortex fly</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Tiny embers of orange that paint winter sky.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Up to the rooftop, the creature it flew</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Gripping red hat and a sack of presents too.</em></p> </div> <p>"Shit! I knew I shouldn't have rolled up an evocation wizard for a one-shot focused on <em>Krampus</em> of all creatures. Damnit."</p> <p>Prescott firmly places down the pencil he was holding and momentarily turns away from the table.</p> <p>"Mike? Hey, it's alright. There's no way you could've known. Besides, we're here to have fun after all."</p> <p>"Being sent to Hell to play Dungeons and Dragons with a demon is what you consider <em>fun?</em>"</p> <p>She turns momentarily to Xornos before looking back towards the doctor.</p> <p>"Of course. I get to play a fun game with my friend on Christmas Eve of all nights," she leans in and whispers, "of course present company is questionable but what can you do, you know?"</p> <p>"Pardon?"</p> <p>"Nothing, Xornos. Sorry."</p> <p>"So, you're not mad? The plan failed, Krampus got away with all the presents."</p> <p>"And? We'll just chase it. We can do that, right, Xornos?"</p> <p>The demon lets out a delighted, toothy smile, before flipping some pages in the packet.</p> <p>"Though defeated, the brave adventurers collect themselves and begin to trek towards Santa's workshop. Before you leave, however, Dasher paces towards you, placing a belled-wreath in your hand. It gives a thankful snort as you tread deeper into the snow. After some time, you arrive at Santa's workshop. Seemingly empty, you step in and see the fire roaring and an empty tray of milk and cookies sitting on the table adjacent to a large, cushioned chair. What do you do?"</p> <p>Prescott picks up a d20 and begins rotating it in his hand. With an encouraging look from Emily, he speaks.</p> <p>"I'd like to look around to see if anything is hiding."</p> <p>"Make a perception roll for me."</p> <p>The resin die bounces across the table, striking both a pencil and a plastic cup before coming to a complete, upright stop. Prescott's heart sinks as he sees the number staring back at him.</p> <p>"That's a natural 1."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The creature's bells twinkled as it appeared with a "poof";</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Crimson red staining but just a single hoof.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>As the wizard lifted his head and was turning around</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The creature was upon him, with ear piercing sound.</em></p> </div> <p>The die seemingly laughs at Prescott as he looks on in horror. Blake grabs a spare plastic cup and sharpie and writes <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7621">"Dice Jail"</a> on the side before throwing the die inside.</p> <p>"Won't be needing that one anymore. You can use some of my dice. They haven't been so unlucky."</p> <p>"Am I going to die? I've been at half health since the last encounter. Do you have any more healing potions? We should have taken a short rest before-"</p> <p>Xornos clears his throat.</p> <p>"The creature shrieks at you as it attempts to make an attack with its claws. What's your AC?"</p> <p>"Uhhhhh, 12? Yeah, 12."</p> <p>"Although surprised, you're able to narrowly avoid the creature's claws by blocking it with a silver cookie platter. The creature hisses as it scrapes against the silver, burning the creature where it touches it. Please, roll initiative for me."</p> <p>The players roll initiative; Prescott is first followed by Emily, with the creature at the top of the order. Prescott looks over to her.</p> <p>"I have an idea, I just need you to follow up, alright?"</p> <p>She nods.</p> <p>"I would like to cast minor illusion on the presents."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>It was baptized in fire, dressed in all soot;</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Completely unaware of the plot that's afoot.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>For all of the toys it held on its back,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Were turned into silver before the barbarian's attack.</em></p> </div> <p>"The creature notices you casting a spell but fails to figure out its effect. You see it turn around and hiss, dropping the sack of presents that now glow with a silvery shine. It's going to use a legendary action to push you, Pimster.</p> <p>Prescott rolls against Xornos, the latter of which coming out to be the victor.</p> <p>"The creature is able to successfully knock you down. You look up at it from a freshly powdered snow pile, created from a gaping hole in the workshop's roof. Vola, you're up."</p> <p>"I think I would like to rage and then do a reckless attack with my great axe and a shove to push it away from me."</p> <p>Emily rolls two die, revealing a '14' and '17' respectively.</p> <p>"Your body burns with a renewed vigor as you call on your primal strength. The bear totem, hanging haphazardly off the head of your axe reverberates, and you let out a roar as you stare down the creature-"</p> <p>Emily attempts to roar like a bear, causing Prescott to choke on his drink.</p> <p>"You wind up and swing, embedding your axe just above the creature's mangled shoulder. It howls as the cold steel enters its body, and you can hear an audible tear as you, in one motion, kick the creature back and remove your axe. The creature stumbles, still upright, and steadies itself right near Pimster."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Its eyes how they glistened as it thought "how merry";</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Blood matted its fur, dark red as a cherry.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>A vicious sneer flashed as it drew back its bow;</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Aiming for the wizard, half dead in the snow.</em></p> </div> <p>"The creature, angered, draws back a bow comprised of the bones of several large creatures and fires at Pimster."</p> <p>Xornos rolls and looks up at the doctor.</p> <p>"Does a 10 hit?"</p> <p>"Thank god. No, it doesn't hit."</p> <p>"You watch as the arrow embeds itself in the floor, nearly between your legs. The creature snarls at you. You can see its winding tongue lick at its razor-sharp teeth as it eyes you for its dinner."</p> <p>The doctor pauses and looks down at his spell slots. He doesn't have many left, nor any ideas on what could help the situation right now. A 1st-Level spell calls out to him and, noting his surroundings, decides to cast it.</p> <p>"I'm going to cast <em>Create or Destroy Water</em> at first level."</p> <p>Emily and Xornos look at him confused.</p> <p>"Given that the snow Pimster's lying in isn't melting, it's safe to assume that the temperature is low enough to chill the water. Since the spell lets me create 10 gallons of water, about 84 pounds of weight, the creature should be knocked prone and cooled by the spell."</p> <p>Xornos pauses, opening a copy of the <em>Player's Handbook</em> and skimming through to find the spell.</p> <p>"Although the spell requires an open container, I'll allow it because that's a clever plan. Still prone on the floor, you raise your hand and create a large droplet of water. As it falls on the creature, you see it fall backward, knocked prone. Vola, your turn."</p> <p>"Another reckless attack. Going to put this thing in the ground."</p> <p>She rolls the die. As if struck by cosmic unfortune, both of them reflect a '1' upwards. They are cast into the dice jail just as fast as they were rolled.</p> <p>"As you go to swing you feel the sharp scrape of nails digging into your abdomen. The creature snarls, lifting itself off the ground, and pushes you back. You collide with a wooden wall, splintering it, creating visible lines as your feet slide through the snow."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The barbarian leaned against the wall and gritted her teeth,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>A genius thought hit her, as she reached for the wreath;</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Grasping her wounds as red flowed from her belly,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>She shook as she laughed and the snow turned to jelly.</em></p> </div> <p>"I'm going to use my bonus action to ring the wreath."</p> <p>"Do you have anything to heal? You're bleeding quite bad."</p> <p>"I ran out of potions in the last fight. This may be the end for me."</p> <p>She turns to Xornos.</p> <p>"Do the bells do anything?"</p> <p>"The sound of bells reverberate in the winter air. It seems everything has gone silent, with only the sound of ringing and your labored breaths replacing the sounds of battle. You wait for what feels like an eternity, but nothing happens."</p> <p>"I'm sorry, Mike. I tried."</p> <p>"The creature is going to take its turn now. It's going to make a claw attack against you and it rolls a…natural 20."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>It stared down the wizard, the easiest prey,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Cornered in the workshop, the last light of day.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The barbarian cried as it twisted her head,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The wreath in her hand, the soft bells of dead.</em></p> </div> <p>Prescott begins to shut down as he takes in the reality of his situation. He can feel the eyes of the other members of the table, they rely on him to finish the job, but he doesn't feel ready. Xornos' mouth opens as if to speak, but the doctor can't hear anything. It's as if he was that halfling wizard alone in the snow, watching as a creature kills his only friend. He momentarily comes through, catching the middle of Xornos' monologue.</p> <p>"-slumps to the ground. The creature no longer regards you as a threat as you sit so small in the snow. You see it walk over to a large red sack, the contents of which no longer glow with silver. Dr. Prescott, is there anything you would like to do? Dr. Prescott?"</p> <p>He closes and opens his eyes, finding himself in the scene the demon so eloquently described. His body aches from cold and injury, and he feels the fear of the halfling as the large creature begins to devour the contents of the velvet bag. He looks at his dead comrade, painting the snow a darker and darker red with every moment passed. She believed in something, she had a hope that they would be able to save the day, to save Christmas.</p> <p>A quiet sadness passes through his mind as he watches that hope burn out like the fire in her eyes did just moments ago.</p> <p>In this world she may have been someone, like Security Officer Blake was who sat next to him. That hope, that fire that burned for a reason that the doctor would never hope to discover, it drove him into action. He reaches out his hand, creating a blue phantasmal image that snakes along the splintered wooden floors and ruined furnishing to grasp the wreath.</p> <p>He rang the bell. He rang the bell like it was the only action between his life and death, and he prayed to the world that the same fire that allowed the barbarian to burn and rage, would allow the universe to grant him this one last wish.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>It spoke not a word as it admired its work</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Devoured the presents; then turned with a jerk,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>A reindeer stood to the height of its nose,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>And delivered a kick; to orbit the creature rose!</em></p> </div> <p>"You watch as Dancer lifts up its two back legs and delivers a powerful kick to the creature, sending it upwards into the air. The snapping of bone and horn can be heard, creating a gnarly sound in the empty workshop. The reindeer walks over to you, sniffing at you, and licks your face, almost as if to say 'thank you.'"</p> <p>Xornos closes the packet and smiles.</p> <p>"I hope this was a fun game. If you compare this to my early games, I'm sure you'll see I made a lot of progress, doctor."</p> <p>Prescott breathes a sigh of relief.</p> <p>"At least no one died this time."</p> <p>"Mike! You did it! You won!"</p> <p>Emily shakes the doctor, surprising him but later causing him to smile.</p> <p>"Thank you, Xornos. This was a lot of fun."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>They put down their die and returned with a whistle</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Back to the site, they flew like a missile.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>But they looked to the demon, 'fore leaving his sight,</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>And he wished them "Merry Christmas" and a very good night.</em></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/roll-initiative">Roll Initiative; or, Dasher Crane Kicks Krampus Into Low Earth Orbit</a>" by AstersQuill, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/roll-initiative">https://scpwiki.com/roll-initiative</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/theme:xmas">theme:xmas</a> \|xmas-header-bhl= --] \|xmas-snow-bhl= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:collapsible-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:collapsible-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[module css]] #page-title {display: none;} [[/module]] [[=]] [[module rate]] [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] = //'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the site// = //A Doctor was stirring, preparing documents for the night;// = //The anomalies were locked in their chambers with care,// = //'cept one that would give our Doctor many grey hairs;// [[/div]] Dr. Prescott taps idly at his keyboard as the other researchers of Site-35 begin to clock out early for Christmas. Like most years, he decided to stay back with some of the other researchers that didn't celebrate or didn't have anyone to celebrate with; he was among the latter, but he didn't mind. Holidays were always a hard time for him, even before arriving at the Foundation, and given the choice of working on reports or having to deal with a family dinner, he would pick the former every time. Tonight, Christmas Eve, he made it his task to review documentation surrounding some older objects, including [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7550 SCP-7550], a particularly difficult anomaly for the time. Four years later, however, his solution seemed to keep the anomaly at bay. [[div class="blockquote"]] = //Dr. Prescott was nestled and snug at his desk,// = //reviewing anomalies with abilities grotesque;// = //And suddenly a tapping, a knock at his door!// = //A familiar voice with whom he had good rapport.// [[/div]] "Mike? You still in there," A muffled voice calls from the other side of the door. "You may come in." Prescott folds his hands in his lap as the figure enters the room. She struggles with both twisting the door handle and trying not to drop a partially opened laptop. "To what do I owe the honor, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7467 Officer Blake]?" She laughs. "You don't have to be so formal, Mike, you can just call me Emily. I just wanted to check in is all. Director said you would still be here tonight." "And you are as well. I expected you to be halfway to your vacation by now." She holds up a particularly short straw. "Seems no one wants to stay on site for Christmas." She sits on the corner of his desk, setting down the laptop and picking up his name plate, rotating it in her hand. "It's fine." She sets the name plate back down, colliding it with Prescott's mouse before moving it to her. Prescott places it back in its original position, straightening it. "So why are you here, now? Don't you have, I don't know, cameras to watch or something?" "Don't worry, doc. With me around, nothing is going to happen." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,// = //The pair sprang from the office to check on the matter.// = //Away to the break room they flew like a flash,// = //To find the place filthy and covered in ash.// [[/div]] The pair enter the room, batting away black clouds of smoke from the unannounced explosion. Blake grabs a fallen lunch tray and begins to bat the smog away. After some time, the smoke clears enough for Prescott to notice a smoking red present on the table. "//Cough--//Here! I think I see the source." He goes to retrieve the present, brushing his hand against a once-green ribbon, causing it to unwind. The box opens, revealing a small packet titled //Krampus Comes to the North Pole//, two sheets of paper, two pencils, and a loose collection of dice. "Huh, what a weird present. Anyways, nothing seems to be broken so I'll just tell the-" "Wait, this isn't right." He mumbles. Prescott begins to circle the table, inspecting each of the elements carefully before finding a note nestled into the packet. [[div class="blockquote"]] = //The yellow of lights and how softly they glow// = //Gave a sulfurous luster to the objects below,// = //When, what to the doctor's fearful eyes should appear,// = //But a large demon and location to which many disappear.// [[/div]] "Hello, doctor. I see you were finally interested enough to take part in the action yourself." A large figure sits at the head of a low, stone table. On it are the objects from the breakroom with the addition of a few bags of chips, various other beverages, and two grey-scale character models. "I-uh, what? I didn't join this game, there was no conveyance event. I-" "You responded to my ad on Roll20, don't you remember? Around the same time your friend here did as well." Prescott looks to Blake with a scowl. "Listen- it just looked like a normal game and I thought it would be a small thing we could do to kill time on Christmas Eve." "You clicked on an anomalous game ad?" "She actually reached out and asked for specifics as well. Showed a lot of interest in the game." "I can't believe this," Prescott begins to laugh and pace around the table. "This is just //fantastic.//" "Listen, Mike. I'm sorry it's just--do you think you can give this a chance? No one should be alone on Christmas, not even Xornos." She holds out a hand. "This will be fun, I promise." "If it wasn't for Protocol 7550-Ω I would be back comfortably in my office." He looks at Xornos, to the table, and finally to Blake. "Fine." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //With a demonic DM, so lively and quick,// = //The two players sat, bound in a trick.// = //A barbarian of totem, a wizard of flame;// = //With great haste Xornos started his holiday game!// [[/div]] "So of all the buildings you can see, the stables seem to be the most damaged. A trail of blood and soot leads towards the entrance, and the distant bleating of reindeer can be heard. What do you do?" "Shit, Blake. I think-" "I run towards the stables." Blake grips a resin d20 in her hand. Its faded numbers just gentle shine through in the soft flame light. "W-we should probably make a plan first, don't you think?" Prescott begins sketching a diagram of the stables on the back of his character sheet, listing all the different variables and angles the pair could enter from. Xornos looks over, confused. "Are you metagaming, doctor?" "No. It's what my character would do. Pimster Earthfound of the Lucky Tree was quite the strategist in his glory days before coming on this adventure." "You started at level 3, these are your glory days." Prescott swallows hard and exhales. He places the paper back on the table, frustrated. "//Fine.// I guess I follow Vola into the burning stable." "Great. As you enter the burning stables, all you see is red. Viscera hang between the stalls, and you can see the bodies of small elves and reindeer alike. In the center, a grand figure clad in white fur leans over a still-breathing reindeer. It locks eyes with you, pulling the heart from the beast-" Xornos attempts to mimic the sound of an organ being pulled from the body, saliva landing before the pair. Blake squirms at the sound. "Xornos, are there any reindeer still alive in here?" "The scene is a bit chaotic. Do you mind rolling a perception check for me?" Blake casts the die on the table, and a triumphant '19' faces upwards towards the trio. She pumps her fist in excitement. "So in one of the far stalls towards the other end of the stable still has a reindeer kicking around, trying to escape." "Emi-Vola, we should try to save it." "I know, I know. Just follow my lead." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //The barbarian steps forth and howls with ambition// = //"Avenge your bretheren: Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen!"// = //The bleats were replaced with the shake of a wall// = //For brave Dancer had answered the warrior's call.// [[/div]] "Suddenly, a reindeer crashes from the far stall, startling your foe-" Blake nudges Prescott. "C'mon, Mike. Now's your chance." "But, you have it distracted. Shouldn't you take the swing?" "I've already used my action to cast //Speak With Animals//. Besides, I think you should take the chance to be a hero." Prescott nods and picks up one of the dice. "Pimster is going to pull back and attempt to cast- wait. How large is the room?" "I'd say about 60x20ft. Why?" "Well, I was going to cast fireball, but-" Blake nudges Prescott again. "//Ahem.// Pimster is going to cast fireball centered at the creature." "Are you sure, doctor? You're within range of the spell." Prescott hesitates. "I don't think I have too much choice." "Alright." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //Dry hay and leaves before the flaming vortex fly// = //Tiny embers of orange that paint winter sky.// = //Up to the rooftop, the creature it flew// = //Gripping red hat and a sack of presents too.// [[/div]] "Shit! I knew I shouldn't have rolled up an evocation wizard for a one-shot focused on //Krampus// of all creatures. Damnit." Prescott firmly places down the pencil he was holding and momentarily turns away from the table. "Mike? Hey, it's alright. There's no way you could've known. Besides, we're here to have fun after all." "Being sent to Hell to play Dungeons and Dragons with a demon is what you consider //fun?//" She turns momentarily to Xornos before looking back towards the doctor. "Of course. I get to play a fun game with my friend on Christmas Eve of all nights," she leans in and whispers, "of course present company is questionable but what can you do, you know?" "Pardon?" "Nothing, Xornos. Sorry." "So, you're not mad? The plan failed, Krampus got away with all the presents." "And? We'll just chase it. We can do that, right, Xornos?" The demon lets out a delighted, toothy smile, before flipping some pages in the packet. "Though defeated, the brave adventurers collect themselves and begin to trek towards Santa's workshop. Before you leave, however, Dasher paces towards you, placing a belled-wreath in your hand. It gives a thankful snort as you tread deeper into the snow. After some time, you arrive at Santa's workshop. Seemingly empty, you step in and see the fire roaring and an empty tray of milk and cookies sitting on the table adjacent to a large, cushioned chair. What do you do?" Prescott picks up a d20 and begins rotating it in his hand. With an encouraging look from Emily, he speaks. "I'd like to look around to see if anything is hiding." "Make a perception roll for me." The resin die bounces across the table, striking both a pencil and a plastic cup before coming to a complete, upright stop. Prescott's heart sinks as he sees the number staring back at him. "That's a natural 1." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //The creature's bells twinkled as it appeared with a "poof";// = //Crimson red staining but just a single hoof.// = //As the wizard lifted his head and was turning around// = //The creature was upon him, with ear piercing sound.// [[/div]] The die seemingly laughs at Prescott as he looks on in horror. Blake grabs a spare plastic cup and sharpie and writes [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7621 "Dice Jail"] on the side before throwing the die inside. "Won't be needing that one anymore. You can use some of my dice. They haven't been so unlucky." "Am I going to die? I've been at half health since the last encounter. Do you have any more healing potions? We should have taken a short rest before-" Xornos clears his throat. "The creature shrieks at you as it attempts to make an attack with its claws. What's your AC?" "Uhhhhh, 12? Yeah, 12." "Although surprised, you're able to narrowly avoid the creature's claws by blocking it with a silver cookie platter. The creature hisses as it scrapes against the silver, burning the creature where it touches it. Please, roll initiative for me." The players roll initiative; Prescott is first followed by Emily, with the creature at the top of the order. Prescott looks over to her. "I have an idea, I just need you to follow up, alright?" She nods. "I would like to cast minor illusion on the presents." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //It was baptized in fire, dressed in all soot;// = //Completely unaware of the plot that's afoot.// = //For all of the toys it held on its back,// = //Were turned into silver before the barbarian's attack.// [[/div]] "The creature notices you casting a spell but fails to figure out its effect. You see it turn around and hiss, dropping the sack of presents that now glow with a silvery shine. It's going to use a legendary action to push you, Pimster. Prescott rolls against Xornos, the latter of which coming out to be the victor. "The creature is able to successfully knock you down. You look up at it from a freshly powdered snow pile, created from a gaping hole in the workshop's roof. Vola, you're up." "I think I would like to rage and then do a reckless attack with my great axe and a shove to push it away from me." Emily rolls two die, revealing a '14' and '17' respectively. "Your body burns with a renewed vigor as you call on your primal strength. The bear totem, hanging haphazardly off the head of your axe reverberates, and you let out a roar as you stare down the creature-" Emily attempts to roar like a bear, causing Prescott to choke on his drink. "You wind up and swing, embedding your axe just above the creature's mangled shoulder. It howls as the cold steel enters its body, and you can hear an audible tear as you, in one motion, kick the creature back and remove your axe. The creature stumbles, still upright, and steadies itself right near Pimster." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //Its eyes how they glistened as it thought "how merry";// = //Blood matted its fur, dark red as a cherry.// = //A vicious sneer flashed as it drew back its bow;// = //Aiming for the wizard, half dead in the snow.// [[/div]] "The creature, angered, draws back a bow comprised of the bones of several large creatures and fires at Pimster." Xornos rolls and looks up at the doctor. "Does a 10 hit?" "Thank god. No, it doesn't hit." "You watch as the arrow embeds itself in the floor, nearly between your legs. The creature snarls at you. You can see its winding tongue lick at its razor-sharp teeth as it eyes you for its dinner." The doctor pauses and looks down at his spell slots. He doesn't have many left, nor any ideas on what could help the situation right now. A 1st-Level spell calls out to him and, noting his surroundings, decides to cast it. "I'm going to cast //Create or Destroy Water// at first level." Emily and Xornos look at him confused. "Given that the snow Pimster's lying in isn't melting, it's safe to assume that the temperature is low enough to chill the water. Since the spell lets me create 10 gallons of water, about 84 pounds of weight, the creature should be knocked prone and cooled by the spell." Xornos pauses, opening a copy of the //Player's Handbook// and skimming through to find the spell. "Although the spell requires an open container, I'll allow it because that's a clever plan. Still prone on the floor, you raise your hand and create a large droplet of water. As it falls on the creature, you see it fall backward, knocked prone. Vola, your turn." "Another reckless attack. Going to put this thing in the ground." She rolls the die. As if struck by cosmic unfortune, both of them reflect a '1' upwards. They are cast into the dice jail just as fast as they were rolled. "As you go to swing you feel the sharp scrape of nails digging into your abdomen. The creature snarls, lifting itself off the ground, and pushes you back. You collide with a wooden wall, splintering it, creating visible lines as your feet slide through the snow." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //The barbarian leaned against the wall and gritted her teeth,// = //A genius thought hit her, as she reached for the wreath;// = //Grasping her wounds as red flowed from her belly,// = //She shook as she laughed and the snow turned to jelly.// [[/div]] "I'm going to use my bonus action to ring the wreath." "Do you have anything to heal? You're bleeding quite bad." "I ran out of potions in the last fight. This may be the end for me." She turns to Xornos. "Do the bells do anything?" "The sound of bells reverberate in the winter air. It seems everything has gone silent, with only the sound of ringing and your labored breaths replacing the sounds of battle. You wait for what feels like an eternity, but nothing happens." "I'm sorry, Mike. I tried." "The creature is going to take its turn now. It's going to make a claw attack against you and it rolls a...natural 20." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //It stared down the wizard, the easiest prey,// = //Cornered in the workshop, the last light of day.// = //The barbarian cried as it twisted her head,// = //The wreath in her hand, the soft bells of dead.// [[/div]] Prescott begins to shut down as he takes in the reality of his situation. He can feel the eyes of the other members of the table, they rely on him to finish the job, but he doesn't feel ready. Xornos' mouth opens as if to speak, but the doctor can't hear anything. It's as if he was that halfling wizard alone in the snow, watching as a creature kills his only friend. He momentarily comes through, catching the middle of Xornos' monologue. "-slumps to the ground. The creature no longer regards you as a threat as you sit so small in the snow. You see it walk over to a large red sack, the contents of which no longer glow with silver. Dr. Prescott, is there anything you would like to do? Dr. Prescott?" He closes and opens his eyes, finding himself in the scene the demon so eloquently described. His body aches from cold and injury, and he feels the fear of the halfling as the large creature begins to devour the contents of the velvet bag. He looks at his dead comrade, painting the snow a darker and darker red with every moment passed. She believed in something, she had a hope that they would be able to save the day, to save Christmas. A quiet sadness passes through his mind as he watches that hope burn out like the fire in her eyes did just moments ago. In this world she may have been someone, like Security Officer Blake was who sat next to him. That hope, that fire that burned for a reason that the doctor would never hope to discover, it drove him into action. He reaches out his hand, creating a blue phantasmal image that snakes along the splintered wooden floors and ruined furnishing to grasp the wreath. He rang the bell. He rang the bell like it was the only action between his life and death, and he prayed to the world that the same fire that allowed the barbarian to burn and rage, would allow the universe to grant him this one last wish. [[div class="blockquote"]] = //It spoke not a word as it admired its work// = //Devoured the presents; then turned with a jerk,// = //A reindeer stood to the height of its nose,// = //And delivered a kick; to orbit the creature rose!// [[/div]] "You watch as Dancer lifts up its two back legs and delivers a powerful kick to the creature, sending it upwards into the air. The snapping of bone and horn can be heard, creating a gnarly sound in the empty workshop. The reindeer walks over to you, sniffing at you, and licks your face, almost as if to say 'thank you.'" Xornos closes the packet and smiles. "I hope this was a fun game. If you compare this to my early games, I'm sure you'll see I made a lot of progress, doctor." Prescott breathes a sigh of relief. "At least no one died this time." "Mike! You did it! You won!" Emily shakes the doctor, surprising him but later causing him to smile. "Thank you, Xornos. This was a lot of fun." [[div class="blockquote"]] = //They put down their die and returned with a whistle// = //Back to the site, they flew like a missile.// = //But they looked to the demon, 'fore leaving his sight,// = //And he wished them "Merry Christmas" and a very good night.// [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=AstersQuill]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-29T15:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "christmas", "fantasy", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Roll Initiative; or, Dasher Crane Kicks Krampus Into Low Earth Orbit - SCP Foundation	19	[ "scp-7550", "scp-7467", "scp-7621", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1451996559	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/roll-initiative
ron-gambi-s-new-year-special	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ascp-offices-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ascp-human-resources/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"><strong>Ron Gambi's New Year Special</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/guezma-s-uncoordinated-ramblings">More by this author</a></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub">The canon this tale is set in.</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="parawatch"> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: green">MaxiJim</span> 11/07/14 (Fri) 12:37:14 #3247142</p> <hr/> <p>Alright people, this is it. You've all regaled on the tales of my investigation, the talks with local witnesses and rummaging through old archives.</p> <p>Now, I must face the truth myself. I have located the epicenter of all the sightings, and am about to head there decked in exporation gear.</p> <p>I'll keep you updated on what I find down there!</p> </blockquote> </div> <div class="parawatch"> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: blue">TheName'sWinner</span> 28/12/2023 (Thu) 18:41:46 #7001253</p> <hr/> <p>Jeez, and no one ever thought to check up on the guy? I might be too late for you buddy, but I'll try and get some closure.</p> </blockquote> </div> <hr/> <p>"Are you sure you've plugged it in properly?"</p> <p>"Yes, I'm sure. Maybe it just needs some time to wind up."</p> <p>"Well, I'm not sensing any power circulating in it."</p> <p>"None at all?"</p> <p>"Nada."</p> <p>"Crap."</p> <p>Getting the strange machine to work had been the Gambi brothers' sole focus for the last half hour, but they had made precious little progress.</p> <p>Ron was hosting the family holidays this year, and given that they were the first since <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gambi-s-gambit">reuniting with Marcel</a>, he was trying to make them extra special.</p> <p>He had asked his colleagues for party tips and tricks, and if any of them had special equipment he could borrow. This particular machine had been provided by his boss in PR, who had assured him it would help with the lighting and music. And he was sure it would, if only they could make it work.</p> <p>"Kids, are you done yet?" Their mother called from the table. "Your father's getting hungry."</p> <p>"Almost done, mum! Just wait a bit longer!"</p> <p>Marcel peered at a symbol on the side of the machine. "Hey Ron, do you recognise this one?"</p> <p>Ron scuttled over to take a look. "Yeah it looks like uh… oh yeah, WAN's symbol. But it's upside down."</p> <p>"Then what if I do this?" Marcel pressed down on the symbol and rotated it until it clicked.</p> <p>The machine hummed and unfolded, revealing a series of LED lights, measuring instruments and speakers. It spoke in a deep voice.</p> <p><strong>"PARTY-O-MATIC ONLINE. PLEASE CONNECT TO BLUETOOTH AND SLASH OR WI-FI AND SLASH OR THE SIGNAL."</strong></p> <p>The brothers high-fived.</p> <hr/> <p>For the food, Ron had initially decided to splurge and take a risk by ordering from Ambrose Restaurant's catering service. It had arrived yesterday but while it had looked, sounded and smelled sublime, it had apparently been unsuited for storage in a regular fridge. This morning, he had found all the food to be completely spoiled and unedible. Or worse.</p> <p>The meal and toasts spread accross the table were the results of a frantic afternoon spent making last-minute calls, rushing to shops and struggling in the kitchen. He was presently amusing his family with the story.</p> <p>"And believe it or not, the third try actually worked and the eggs were good. Now I just had to prepare Dad's favourite."</p> <p>"A good roast beef."</p> <p>"Exactly. Problem was, I couldn't find any good beef in time, Tesco was all out."</p> <p>"Then what's this I'm eating?" His father stopped his fork mid-air.</p> <p>"Well, I still had the one I ordered from Ambrose. It was too far gone, but maybe not unsalvageable. I called Alyx, we chatted a bit, and I held the phone over the meat while they chanted a revivifying spell. The meat came back totally raw so I had to prepare it myself."</p> <p>Ron's father was now staring at his meal with a worried look on his face.</p> <p>"Oh come on dad, I swear I did it just like Grandma's recipe."</p> <p>"Just like Joanna made them? Look at this, there's not nearly enough garlic or— ouch!"</p> <p>His wife had just elbowed him in the ribs.</p> <p>"You know, this Alyx sounds really nice every time you talk about them. Are you going to introduce us someday?"</p> <p>Ron blushed. "Oh it's uh, I dunno mum, we're close but I mean, maybe not "bring to family gatherings" type of close."</p> <p>Marcel looked at him quizzically. "You sure? Because I've talked with them and—"</p> <p>It was then that Ron was saved by the bell, or rather his ringtone. He made a mental note to ask his brother about what he had said, before excusing himself.</p> <p>"Oh look at this, I'm getting a call from work. Marcel, why don't you tell them how you decorated the walls while I answer it."</p> <p>He stepped away from the table while Marcel launched into his own long-winded story, and answered the call.</p> <p>"Hello, oh, it's you Laura. Happy New Year!"</p> <p>He paused.</p> <p>"To the Lighthouse? Is it that urgent, I'm with my family right now and I'd like to—"</p> <p>He sighed.</p> <p>"Well I guess if the guy asked for me directly, I do have to show up. Who is it, anyway?"</p> <p>He cringed.</p> <hr/> <p>The Lighthouse Ron worked at was mainly a place for informative and administrative work. There was a small department of action-ready personel, and an even smaller holding sector. It was only meant to be used for emergencies, or if some of the people who came to them for help needed to be isolated while they waited.</p> <p>It was rarely used to hold people for interrogation, but that was the case tonight.</p> <p>Through the glass, Ron looked at the man sitting at the table, answering questions while someone from Medical changed his bandages.</p> <p>He turned back towards the other two people in the room: Laura Moshwinter, his friend in Active Operations, and Amélie Cordier his boss in PR.</p> <p>"So, do you really know him?" asked Amélie.</p> <p>"Yeah, that's Victor. We used to talk a lot back in my Parawatch days, and we hung out a few times when we found out we lived in the same county. How did he end up here?"</p> <p>Amélie played a recording of Victor's voice. "And I agree that we didn't know anything back in the Veiled days, but we still tried! We were out there looking for the truth! And sometimes… well sometimes those of us who went looking didn't come back."</p> <p>There was truth to these words. Ron remembered old acquaintances, forum users who just stopped coming online one day. Some had been lucky enough to get a life, but he knew it hadn't been the case for all of them.</p> <p>The recording continued. "Now, you people at Vanguard have released a bunch of files so I know that the Foundation got some of them, mindwiped them to make them forget all about it and the forums. But not all of our disappeared users were caught by the Foundation. Some of them disappeared somewhere for unknown reasons. I didn't want them to stay that way."</p> <p>Laura picked up the explanation. "He wandered into the same hive that my squad was ordered to quarantine, we found him bleeding in a small alcove where he was hiding. When he woke up here, he said he knew someone working with us and asked to speak with you."</p> <p>"But why?"</p> <p>"I believe he may have thought he would be in trouble. In truth, all we want is to take his testimony and make sure his wounds are treated, he will be free to go afterwards."</p> <p>"With an invitation to come back, of course." Amélie interjected.</p> <p>"To come back?" Knowing his boss, she had a project in mind. "What do you want with him?"</p> <p>"Well, you have to admit he's right. It is a shame about your missing friends."</p> <p>"Ex-friends."</p> <p>"Sure. He is justified in seeking closure, and maybe we have something to gain by helping him. That's where you come in."</p> <p>"Oh no."</p> <p>"Oh yes. Data shows that ghost hunting and other shows based on investigating the paranormal have gained a lot of popularity, even more so after the Veil was lifted. I think it's high time Vanguard produced our own. And one thing that makes this formula really work is a dynamic duo."</p> <p>"Please tell me you're joking."</p> <p>Laura was laughing quietly in her corner of the room.</p> <p>"You have to admit that you two would have a very interesting dynamic. Plus you have some popularity we could exploit after footage of the Gambit operation went viral."</p> <p>"You mean those unflaterring edits of the footage." He grumbled. From Laura's muffled laughter, he could tell she had seen the videos. There were some downsides to transparency.</p> <p>"Picture it: the two of you going on missions to find what happened to your old forum acquaintances, maybe other unexplained anomalous cases if we get renewed. We can balance his conspiracy theatrics against your informed skepticism. I'll give you a script."</p> <p>Ron wasn't sure if she had given this a lot of thought or if they were witnessing the development of the idea. Either way, he had to admit: it could work.</p> <p>"Push a message about the dangers of ignorance yeah? We use the examples of past accidents to explain how learning and adapting our attitudes can prevent future ones."</p> <p>"Exactly. And getting closure about people you were personally involved with is sure to resonate emotionally with audiences. And that makes the message stick."</p> <p>"Okay I'm in, this is actually a good idea. There's just two problems though."</p> <p>"I'm all ears."</p> <p>"First: how can you be sure Victor will agree to this?"</p> <p>"We help him do what he already set out to do, and he gets a paycheck."</p> <p>"That works. Secondly: we're bound to run into actual danger. You know I can't really handle myself in a fight, and I doubt Victor is any better. How do we deal with the risks?"</p> <p>"Good point, but easily solved."</p> <p>She turned towards the third person in the room.</p> <p>"Miss Moshwinter, how good are you and your squad with filming equipment?"</p> <p>This time, it was Ron's turn to laugh.</p> <hr/> <div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Vanguard's "Inexplicable events and intrepid explorers", episode 2: "The Lich of Leeds"</strong><br/> <em>01:03:46</em></p> </div> <p><strong>Victor</strong>: Oh bloody hell, Ron, that's a lot of bones.</p> <p><strong>Ron:</strong> I know. Quick, let's check them for any identifying items.</p> <p><em>The pair begins searching through the bodies in the crypt. In the background, Laura can be seen engaging in battle against a massive skeletal entity, which the pair does not notice.</em></p> <p><strong>Victor:</strong> These ones look like they've been down here for a good century. We must be dealing with something very old here.</p> <p><strong>Ron:</strong> Yeah, but these are <em>only</em> old skeletons, and there's not that many. If that creature has been down here so long, it must have made a lot more victims.</p> <p><strong>Victor:</strong> But where could it be hiding the rest? This was the last room we found.</p> <p><strong>Ron:</strong> Unless…</p> <p><em>They turn to look at each other.</em></p> <p><strong>Both:</strong> SECRET PASSAGES!</p> <p><em>The pair begins to pat down the walls of the crypt, looking for hidden mechanisms. Camera operator 2, worried for their superior, turns away and heads for Laura's location.</em></p> <p><em>The battle is fierce, mighty spells clash against one another. Laura is using her boom mic as a staff to fire sharp gales at the entity. She notices the camera operator and shouts at them. Although the raging winds make her words inaudible, it is clear from her hand motions that she is instructing them to leave. While she is unfocused, the entity lobs a bolt of dark miasma at her. The camera operator turns away as an explosion shakes the room.</em></p> <p><em>The camera operator comes back to the crypt in time to catch Ron pushing a brick into the wall. A small cache slides open, revealing a cylindrical container filled with a purple glowing fluid.</em></p> <p><strong>Ron:</strong> Bingo! But… what is it?</p> <p><strong>Victor:</strong> Have you not played any games? That thing is clearly a key, we only have to find where to fit it.</p> <p><em>Victor grabs the "key."</em></p> <p><strong>Victor:</strong> There's this weird hole in the left wall. Now, it might look too big but I'm sure if I angle it properly…</p> <p><em>The camera operator turns towards Laura again. She has retreated into a barrier and is trying to form a new spell, but the entity's repeated blows against the barrier make her concentration waver. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass is heard.</em></p> <p><strong>Victor (out of frame):</strong> Oops.</p> <p><em>The entity rears back and bellows. In a flash of light, its body demanifests, replaced by dozens of unconscious civilians. Laura manages to make them all float down before they impact the ground.</em></p> <p><strong>Ron (out of frame):</strong> Oh shit, it's crawling away! We need something to scoop it up with!</p> <p><strong>Victor (out of frame):</strong> I got it!</p> <p><strong>Ron (out of frame):</strong> Not with your- hey, camera! Get over here, you're missing all the action!</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Marcel was having a great time watching his brother's antics on TV. The experience was only enhanced by witnessing said brother rant about the script he had been given in the family group chat.</p> <p>When the episode ended, he paused the recording process and began to switch between channels. There was a nature documentary sponsored by Wilson's and narrated by David Attenborough. Switch. There were <em>Simpsons</em> reruns. Switch. He finally settled on the BBC, which was covering the ongoing legal dispute over some weird building in London.</p> <p>Having decided that it was good enough background noise, he fetched his drawing tablet, a bag of snacks, and made himself comfortable in the couch.</p> <p>It took him a good few minutes to choose which of his numerous WIPs he was going to work on today, after which he got distracted and picked up his phone. He sent a quick message to Alyx asking how they were doing with their plans for Ron's birthday, and was about to go through his various social media inboxes when something on TV caught his attention.</p> <p>He paused the screen and moved closer. The BBC's reporter was standing in the hall of the Law Courts, in the middle of answering the anchor's question about whether the pyramid was registered as a residential building or a business. Behind him, exiting one of the side rooms, was a man dragging a large suitcase.</p> <p>The man looked plain and unassuming, he blended in perfectly with the other people going about their day in the building. He didn't have the type of face that you would remember easily.</p> <p>Unless of course, like Marcel, you had seen it every day for a year from inside your cell.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/ron-gambi-s-new-year-special">Ron Gambi's New Year Special</a>" by Guezma, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/ron-gambi-s-new-year-special">https://scpwiki.com/ron-gambi-s-new-year-special</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename</strong>: Vanguard logo<br/> <strong>Author</strong>: <span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aethris" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5158506); return false;">Aethris</a></span><br/> <strong>License</strong>: CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source</strong>: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png">LINK</a></p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p>Vanguard Theme made by the Vanguard Team</p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename</strong>:<br/> <strong>Author</strong>:<br/> <strong>License</strong>:<br/> <strong>Source</strong>:</p> </blockquote> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-offices-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-offices-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-human-resources">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-human-resources</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png"); --header-title: "ANGUARD"; --header-subtitle: "SHELTER - NORMALIZE - INFORM"; --header-h2-font-size: 1.1em; } #header::before { left: -12rem; filter: brightness(125%); opacity: 1; } #header h1 a::before { font-size: unset; } #header h2::before { color: #fe4; } #header h2 { top: 1em; } #header #login-status { left: -2vw; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header::before { left: -7rem; } #header h1 { top: 0.5em; left: 0.5em; } } #page-title { display: none; } .parawatch blockquote { background: #1a1a1a; border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: #262626; color: #f2f2f2; font-family: 'PT Mono', monospace; } .parawatch a { color: #6F9; font-weight: bold; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"]]Ron Gambi's New Year Special[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/guezma-s-uncoordinated-ramblings \| More by this author]]] @@ @@ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub \| The canon this tale is set in.]]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[div_ class="parawatch"]] > ##green\|MaxiJim## 11/07/14 (Fri) 12:37:14 #3247142 > ---- > Alright people, this is it. You've all regaled on the tales of my investigation, the talks with local witnesses and rummaging through old archives. > > Now, I must face the truth myself. I have located the epicenter of all the sightings, and am about to head there decked in exporation gear. > > I'll keep you updated on what I find down there! > [[/div]] [[div_ class="parawatch"]] > ##blue\|TheName'sWinner## 28/12/2023 (Thu) 18:41:46 #7001253 > ------ > Jeez, and no one ever thought to check up on the guy? I might be too late for you buddy, but I'll try and get some closure. > [[/div]] ------ "Are you sure you've plugged it in properly?" "Yes, I'm sure. Maybe it just needs some time to wind up." "Well, I'm not sensing any power circulating in it." "None at all?" "Nada." "Crap." Getting the strange machine to work had been the Gambi brothers' sole focus for the last half hour, but they had made precious little progress. Ron was hosting the family holidays this year, and given that they were the first since [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/gambi-s-gambit reuniting with Marcel], he was trying to make them extra special. He had asked his colleagues for party tips and tricks, and if any of them had special equipment he could borrow. This particular machine had been provided by his boss in PR, who had assured him it would help with the lighting and music. And he was sure it would, if only they could make it work. "Kids, are you done yet?" Their mother called from the table. "Your father's getting hungry." "Almost done, mum! Just wait a bit longer!" Marcel peered at a symbol on the side of the machine. "Hey Ron, do you recognise this one?" Ron scuttled over to take a look. "Yeah it looks like uh... oh yeah, WAN's symbol. But it's upside down." "Then what if I do this?" Marcel pressed down on the symbol and rotated it until it clicked. The machine hummed and unfolded, revealing a series of LED lights, measuring instruments and speakers. It spoke in a deep voice. "PARTY-O-MATIC ONLINE. PLEASE CONNECT TO BLUETOOTH AND SLASH OR WI-FI AND SLASH OR THE SIGNAL." The brothers high-fived. ---- For the food, Ron had initially decided to splurge and take a risk by ordering from Ambrose Restaurant's catering service. It had arrived yesterday but while it had looked, sounded and smelled sublime, it had apparently been unsuited for storage in a regular fridge. This morning, he had found all the food to be completely spoiled and unedible. Or worse. The meal and toasts spread accross the table were the results of a frantic afternoon spent making last-minute calls, rushing to shops and struggling in the kitchen. He was presently amusing his family with the story. "And believe it or not, the third try actually worked and the eggs were good. Now I just had to prepare Dad's favourite." "A good roast beef." "Exactly. Problem was, I couldn't find any good beef in time, Tesco was all out." "Then what's this I'm eating?" His father stopped his fork mid-air. "Well, I still had the one I ordered from Ambrose. It was too far gone, but maybe not unsalvageable. I called Alyx, we chatted a bit, and I held the phone over the meat while they chanted a revivifying spell. The meat came back totally raw so I had to prepare it myself." Ron's father was now staring at his meal with a worried look on his face. "Oh come on dad, I swear I did it just like Grandma's recipe." "Just like Joanna made them? Look at this, there's not nearly enough garlic or-- ouch!" His wife had just elbowed him in the ribs. "You know, this Alyx sounds really nice every time you talk about them. Are you going to introduce us someday?" Ron blushed. "Oh it's uh, I dunno mum, we're close but I mean, maybe not "bring to family gatherings" type of close." Marcel looked at him quizzically. "You sure? Because I've talked with them and--" It was then that Ron was saved by the bell, or rather his ringtone. He made a mental note to ask his brother about what he had said, before excusing himself. "Oh look at this, I'm getting a call from work. Marcel, why don't you tell them how you decorated the walls while I answer it." He stepped away from the table while Marcel launched into his own long-winded story, and answered the call. "Hello, oh, it's you Laura. Happy New Year!" He paused. "To the Lighthouse? Is it that urgent, I'm with my family right now and I'd like to--" He sighed. "Well I guess if the guy asked for me directly, I do have to show up. Who is it, anyway?" He cringed. ---- The Lighthouse Ron worked at was mainly a place for informative and administrative work. There was a small department of action-ready personel, and an even smaller holding sector. It was only meant to be used for emergencies, or if some of the people who came to them for help needed to be isolated while they waited. It was rarely used to hold people for interrogation, but that was the case tonight. Through the glass, Ron looked at the man sitting at the table, answering questions while someone from Medical changed his bandages. He turned back towards the other two people in the room: Laura Moshwinter, his friend in Active Operations, and Amélie Cordier his boss in PR. "So, do you really know him?" asked Amélie. "Yeah, that's Victor. We used to talk a lot back in my Parawatch days, and we hung out a few times when we found out we lived in the same county. How did he end up here?" Amélie played a recording of Victor's voice. "And I agree that we didn't know anything back in the Veiled days, but we still tried! We were out there looking for the truth! And sometimes... well sometimes those of us who went looking didn't come back." There was truth to these words. Ron remembered old acquaintances, forum users who just stopped coming online one day. Some had been lucky enough to get a life, but he knew it hadn't been the case for all of them. The recording continued. "Now, you people at Vanguard have released a bunch of files so I know that the Foundation got some of them, mindwiped them to make them forget all about it and the forums. But not all of our disappeared users were caught by the Foundation. Some of them disappeared somewhere for unknown reasons. I didn't want them to stay that way." Laura picked up the explanation. "He wandered into the same hive that my squad was ordered to quarantine, we found him bleeding in a small alcove where he was hiding. When he woke up here, he said he knew someone working with us and asked to speak with you." "But why?" "I believe he may have thought he would be in trouble. In truth, all we want is to take his testimony and make sure his wounds are treated, he will be free to go afterwards." "With an invitation to come back, of course." Amélie interjected. "To come back?" Knowing his boss, she had a project in mind. "What do you want with him?" "Well, you have to admit he's right. It is a shame about your missing friends." "Ex-friends." "Sure. He is justified in seeking closure, and maybe we have something to gain by helping him. That's where you come in." "Oh no." "Oh yes. Data shows that ghost hunting and other shows based on investigating the paranormal have gained a lot of popularity, even more so after the Veil was lifted. I think it's high time Vanguard produced our own. And one thing that makes this formula really work is a dynamic duo." "Please tell me you're joking." Laura was laughing quietly in her corner of the room. "You have to admit that you two would have a very interesting dynamic. Plus you have some popularity we could exploit after footage of the Gambit operation went viral." "You mean those unflaterring edits of the footage." He grumbled. From Laura's muffled laughter, he could tell she had seen the videos. There were some downsides to transparency. "Picture it: the two of you going on missions to find what happened to your old forum acquaintances, maybe other unexplained anomalous cases if we get renewed. We can balance his conspiracy theatrics against your informed skepticism. I'll give you a script." Ron wasn't sure if she had given this a lot of thought or if they were witnessing the development of the idea. Either way, he had to admit: it could work. "Push a message about the dangers of ignorance yeah? We use the examples of past accidents to explain how learning and adapting our attitudes can prevent future ones." "Exactly. And getting closure about people you were personally involved with is sure to resonate emotionally with audiences. And that makes the message stick." "Okay I'm in, this is actually a good idea. There's just two problems though." "I'm all ears." "First: how can you be sure Victor will agree to this?" "We help him do what he already set out to do, and he gets a paycheck." "That works. Secondly: we're bound to run into actual danger. You know I can't really handle myself in a fight, and I doubt Victor is any better. How do we deal with the risks?" "Good point, but easily solved." She turned towards the third person in the room. "Miss Moshwinter, how good are you and your squad with filming equipment?" This time, it was Ron's turn to laugh. ---- [[div style="border:solid 3px #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 10px; background: #D8D6D6; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; padding:10px; font-family: ‘Arial Rounded MT Bold’"]] [[=]] Vanguard's "Inexplicable events and intrepid explorers", episode 2: "The Lich of Leeds" //01:03:46// [[/=]] Victor: Oh bloody hell, Ron, that's a lot of bones. Ron: I know. Quick, let's check them for any identifying items. //The pair begins searching through the bodies in the crypt. In the background, Laura can be seen engaging in battle against a massive skeletal entity, which the pair does not notice.// Victor: These ones look like they've been down here for a good century. We must be dealing with something very old here. Ron: Yeah, but these are //only// old skeletons, and there's not that many. If that creature has been down here so long, it must have made a lot more victims. Victor: But where could it be hiding the rest? This was the last room we found. Ron: Unless... //They turn to look at each other.// Both: SECRET PASSAGES! //The pair begins to pat down the walls of the crypt, looking for hidden mechanisms. Camera operator 2, worried for their superior, turns away and heads for Laura's location.// //The battle is fierce, mighty spells clash against one another. Laura is using her boom mic as a staff to fire sharp gales at the entity. She notices the camera operator and shouts at them. Although the raging winds make her words inaudible, it is clear from her hand motions that she is instructing them to leave. While she is unfocused, the entity lobs a bolt of dark miasma at her. The camera operator turns away as an explosion shakes the room.// //The camera operator comes back to the crypt in time to catch Ron pushing a brick into the wall. A small cache slides open, revealing a cylindrical container filled with a purple glowing fluid.// Ron: Bingo! But... what is it? Victor: Have you not played any games? That thing is clearly a key, we only have to find where to fit it. //Victor grabs the "key."// Victor: There's this weird hole in the left wall. Now, it might look too big but I'm sure if I angle it properly... //The camera operator turns towards Laura again. She has retreated into a barrier and is trying to form a new spell, but the entity's repeated blows against the barrier make her concentration waver. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass is heard.// Victor (out of frame): Oops. //The entity rears back and bellows. In a flash of light, its body demanifests, replaced by dozens of unconscious civilians. Laura manages to make them all float down before they impact the ground.// Ron (out of frame): Oh shit, it's crawling away! We need something to scoop it up with! Victor (out of frame): I got it! Ron (out of frame): Not with your- hey, camera! Get over here, you're missing all the action! [[/div]] ---- Marcel was having a great time watching his brother's antics on TV. The experience was only enhanced by witnessing said brother rant about the script he had been given in the family group chat. When the episode ended, he paused the recording process and began to switch between channels. There was a nature documentary sponsored by Wilson's and narrated by David Attenborough. Switch. There were //Simpsons// reruns. Switch. He finally settled on the BBC, which was covering the ongoing legal dispute over some weird building in London. Having decided that it was good enough background noise, he fetched his drawing tablet, a bag of snacks, and made himself comfortable in the couch. It took him a good few minutes to choose which of his numerous WIPs he was going to work on today, after which he got distracted and picked up his phone. He sent a quick message to Alyx asking how they were doing with their plans for Ron's birthday, and was about to go through his various social media inboxes when something on TV caught his attention. He paused the screen and moved closer. The BBC's reporter was standing in the hall of the Law Courts, in the middle of answering the anchor's question about whether the pyramid was registered as a residential building or a business. Behind him, exiting one of the side rooms, was a man dragging a large suitcase. The man looked plain and unassuming, he blended in perfectly with the other people going about their day in the building. He didn't have the type of face that you would remember easily. Unless of course, like Marcel, you had seen it every day for a year from inside your cell. @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Guezma]] > Filename: Vanguard logo > Author: [[user Aethris]] > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png \| LINK]]] @@ @@ > Vanguard Theme made by the Vanguard Team @@ @@ > Filename: > Author: > License: > Source: @@ @@ ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-06T23:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "mystery", "no-return", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Ron Gambi's New Year Special - SCP Foundation	41	[ "guezma-s-uncoordinated-ramblings", "no-return-hub", "gambi-s-gambit", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "no-return-hub" ]	[]	1445406547	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ron-gambi-s-new-year-special
rush-hour	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>"Okay, whose bright idea was it to bring the van? I want names!"</p> <p>"You'd rather we walked?"</p> <p>"Of course not. I meant bring the helicopter. Fly in, fly out, don't get stuck in Manhatten for an hour and a half, easy."</p> <p>Skipper sighed, his eyes fixed on the sea of red lights staring back at him. They were supposed to arrive at HQ half an hour ago, and they had exhausted their usual stockpile of post-op conversation topics. "Couldn't get it this time. Alpha team has it."</p> <p>"Alpha?! What do they need it for?"</p> <p>"Not sure. Something over in Jersey City. The commander made it sound urgent."</p> <p>"Well that's rich… meanwhile we're over here, risking our necks, now having to sit through rush hour traffic in a beat-up old-"</p> <p>"That's <em>enough</em>, Rodent," Sludge hissed from the passenger seat.</p> <p>Rodent crossed his arms and slumped back, accidentally tearing another piece of faux leather off the seat. The vehicle had many years of service under its belt and looked the part. It was a minor miracle that the van ran at all.</p> <p>"You're still new," Popeye added, "you'll get used to it." This was a lie. This situation wasn't rare for MTF Pi-1 - it came with the territory of New York City - but nobody ever "got used to it"; you just learned to shut up about it. Even for Big Apple natives like him and Skipper, crawling through the urban hellscape around them didn't get any less tedious. But whining about it didn't make the cars move any faster. It just made the drive feel longer.</p> <p>That said, this case was worse than most.</p> <p>"What's our ETA?" said Gecko for about the fifth time. He had drawn the short stick, winning the honor of sitting in the back with their cargo and poking it with a little needle if it started twitching too much.</p> <p>Skipper glanced at the smartphone resting on the dashboard.</p> <p>"It's gone up again. One hour, forty-seven minutes."</p> <p>The van erupted into a chorus of anguish.</p> <p>"Okay, here's an idea: you think the rest of us could just hop out and take the subway?" Gecko chimed.</p> <p>"Yeah, because people definitely won't call the cops when they see four guys in body armor carrying someone with a bag over his head," Rodent grumbled.</p> <p>"Rodent, this is New York City. You would not <em>believe</em> the things I've seen on subway cars," Popeye remarked. "Trust me, nobody cares."</p> <p>"Really? Like what?"</p> <p>"Let's see… I've witnessed two stabbings, a guy wearing a bear costume, too many junkies to count, three men in suits with a pipe organ-"</p> <p>"Wait, a pipe organ?"</p> <p>"Yeah, they had it on a dolly. Just wheeled it onto the train like it was the most ordinary thing in the worl-"</p> <p>A sickening crunch cut Popeye off as the van lurched forward. The team went quiet as each member affirmed themself that they were not, in fact, dead.</p> <p>Skipper grimaced. "That better not be what I think it was."</p> <p>He looked back to see the nose of a black sedan nose embedded into the van's tail.</p> <p>"Oh for <em>Christ's sake</em>… is everyone okay?"</p> <p>The others responded in the affirmative, and Skipper pulled the van onto the shoulder. The metallic screech sent chills up the agents' spines.</p> <p>"Jesus Christ, of all days… Sludge, radio HQ and let them know what's going on." Skipper slipped his vest off and tossed it into the backseat, hitting Rodent square in the chest. "The rest of you, sit tight. I have to go yell at this idiot." He opened the door and jumped out.</p> <p>Sludge picked up the radio resting on the floorboard. "Command, this is Bravo team. We've had a little SNAFU. Some clown just rear-ended us and disabled our van. Please advise… Copy that, our location is…"</p> <p>The team looked back to see Skipper arguing with a short, round man in a Patriots t-shirt. He had a clueless face; the kind that made its bearer seem unsure whether he was on Earth or if he had taken a wrong turn at Mercury. Skipper was visibly seething. It seemed to take all his willpower not to strangle the little man then and there.</p> <p>Rodent squirmed in his seat. "Is it going to be a problem if the cops show up?"</p> <p>"They're on our payroll, aren't they?" Gecko said.</p> <p>"The chief is. The officers aren't," said Popeye. "Say one of 'em comes out, sees our guest, gets all uppity, and tries to do something about it. Messes get made, word gets around, and just like that you have to amnesticize the whole force. Not exactly ideal."</p> <p>At last, the short man turned away. Skipper stormed back to the van and opened the door.</p> <p>"Well? Did someone call the police?"</p> <p>"No. He's leaving." Skipper motioned to the battered Dodge Charger as it zipped past them. "As for <em>this</em>," - he gestured to the rear of the van - "looks like we got the worst of it."</p> <p>"So… now what?"</p> <p>"Sludge, any word from HQ?"</p> <p>Sludge looked up from his radio. "Yes. We're leaving the van and taking the subway."</p> <p>There was a long silence. A voice in the back exclaimed "Oh come on, I was <em>joking</em> about that!" Rodent congratulated him on being psychic.</p> <p>"We'll get out and make a break for the nearest station. They're sending a group to pick us up in the Bronx. Leave your gear, they'll retrieve the van later."</p> <p>"What about the package?" Popeye pointed at their cargo, which was now wriggling a concerning amount. Gecko jabbed it with his needle, and it went still again.</p> <p>"There's no other option. We have to bring it."</p> <p>"Seriously? How?"</p> <p>"Let's see… Gecko, pass the emergency bag up here."</p> <p>The back of the van contained a large duffel bag full of miscellaneous supplies. Gecko dutifully passed it over the seats to Skipper, who began rummaging through it. He pulled out a small blue tarp.</p> <p>"We'll use this. Popeye, Rodent, you're carrying."</p> <p>The two agents looked at each other, quietly agreed not to argue, and began wrapping the writhing body in the tarp.</p> <p>Sludge turned to Skipper. His face, normally stoic, betrayed his concern. "Are you sure about this?".</p> <p>"Of course. Anyone watching will think we're carrying a bundle of wood or something like that."</p> <p>The others seriously doubted that their package looked anything like a bundle of wood, but they didn't have any better ideas.</p> <p>The doors opened, and the agents poured out onto the street. Skipper set off towards the nearest terminal, and the rest followed as fast as they could without dropping their bundle. Popeye and Rodent shifted their grips, each avoiding the eyes of bystanders staring at these men unloading what was obviously a body.</p> <p>"You think they'd accept my application for a transfer after this?" Rodent asked.</p> <p>"Hey, for a containment team this outfit is actually pretty cushy," Popeye responded. "You could have spent this whole time in <em>literal hell</em>."</p> <p>Rodent chuckled. "Frankly? That might be an improvement."</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/rush-hour">Rush Hour</a>" by Attila the Pun, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/rush-hour">https://scpwiki.com/rush-hour</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[module CSS]] div#header { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/attilas-author-page/humble_logo.svg); } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] "Okay, whose bright idea was it to bring the van? I want names!" "You'd rather we walked?" "Of course not. I meant bring the helicopter. Fly in, fly out, don't get stuck in Manhatten for an hour and a half, easy." Skipper sighed, his eyes fixed on the sea of red lights staring back at him. They were supposed to arrive at HQ half an hour ago, and they had exhausted their usual stockpile of post-op conversation topics. "Couldn't get it this time. Alpha team has it." "Alpha?! What do they need it for?" "Not sure. Something over in Jersey City. The commander made it sound urgent." "Well that's rich... meanwhile we're over here, risking our necks, now having to sit through rush hour traffic in a beat-up old-" "That's //enough//, Rodent," Sludge hissed from the passenger seat. Rodent crossed his arms and slumped back, accidentally tearing another piece of faux leather off the seat. The vehicle had many years of service under its belt and looked the part. It was a minor miracle that the van ran at all. "You're still new," Popeye added, "you'll get used to it." This was a lie. This situation wasn't rare for MTF Pi-1 - it came with the territory of New York City - but nobody ever "got used to it"; you just learned to shut up about it. Even for Big Apple natives like him and Skipper, crawling through the urban hellscape around them didn't get any less tedious. But whining about it didn't make the cars move any faster. It just made the drive feel longer. That said, this case was worse than most. "What's our ETA?" said Gecko for about the fifth time. He had drawn the short stick, winning the honor of sitting in the back with their cargo and poking it with a little needle if it started twitching too much. Skipper glanced at the smartphone resting on the dashboard. "It's gone up again. One hour, forty-seven minutes." The van erupted into a chorus of anguish. "Okay, here's an idea: you think the rest of us could just hop out and take the subway?" Gecko chimed. "Yeah, because people definitely won't call the cops when they see four guys in body armor carrying someone with a bag over his head," Rodent grumbled. "Rodent, this is New York City. You would not //believe// the things I've seen on subway cars," Popeye remarked. "Trust me, nobody cares." "Really? Like what?" "Let's see... I've witnessed two stabbings, a guy wearing a bear costume, too many junkies to count, three men in suits with a pipe organ-" "Wait, a pipe organ?" "Yeah, they had it on a dolly. Just wheeled it onto the train like it was the most ordinary thing in the worl-" A sickening crunch cut Popeye off as the van lurched forward. The team went quiet as each member affirmed themself that they were not, in fact, dead. Skipper grimaced. "That better not be what I think it was." He looked back to see the nose of a black sedan nose embedded into the van's tail. "Oh for //Christ's sake//... is everyone okay?" The others responded in the affirmative, and Skipper pulled the van onto the shoulder. The metallic screech sent chills up the agents' spines. "Jesus Christ, of all days... Sludge, radio HQ and let them know what's going on." Skipper slipped his vest off and tossed it into the backseat, hitting Rodent square in the chest. "The rest of you, sit tight. I have to go yell at this idiot." He opened the door and jumped out. Sludge picked up the radio resting on the floorboard. "Command, this is Bravo team. We've had a little SNAFU. Some clown just rear-ended us and disabled our van. Please advise... Copy that, our location is..." The team looked back to see Skipper arguing with a short, round man in a Patriots t-shirt. He had a clueless face; the kind that made its bearer seem unsure whether he was on Earth or if he had taken a wrong turn at Mercury. Skipper was visibly seething. It seemed to take all his willpower not to strangle the little man then and there. Rodent squirmed in his seat. "Is it going to be a problem if the cops show up?" "They're on our payroll, aren't they?" Gecko said. "The chief is. The officers aren't," said Popeye. "Say one of 'em comes out, sees our guest, gets all uppity, and tries to do something about it. Messes get made, word gets around, and just like that you have to amnesticize the whole force. Not exactly ideal." At last, the short man turned away. Skipper stormed back to the van and opened the door. "Well? Did someone call the police?" "No. He's leaving." Skipper motioned to the battered Dodge Charger as it zipped past them. "As for //this//," - he gestured to the rear of the van - "looks like we got the worst of it." "So... now what?" "Sludge, any word from HQ?" Sludge looked up from his radio. "Yes. We're leaving the van and taking the subway." There was a long silence. A voice in the back exclaimed "Oh come on, I was //joking// about that!" Rodent congratulated him on being psychic. "We'll get out and make a break for the nearest station. They're sending a group to pick us up in the Bronx. Leave your gear, they'll retrieve the van later." "What about the package?" Popeye pointed at their cargo, which was now wriggling a concerning amount. Gecko jabbed it with his needle, and it went still again. "There's no other option. We have to bring it." "Seriously? How?" "Let's see... Gecko, pass the emergency bag up here." The back of the van contained a large duffel bag full of miscellaneous supplies. Gecko dutifully passed it over the seats to Skipper, who began rummaging through it. He pulled out a small blue tarp. "We'll use this. Popeye, Rodent, you're carrying." The two agents looked at each other, quietly agreed not to argue, and began wrapping the writhing body in the tarp. Sludge turned to Skipper. His face, normally stoic, betrayed his concern. "Are you sure about this?". "Of course. Anyone watching will think we're carrying a bundle of wood or something like that." The others seriously doubted that their package looked anything like a bundle of wood, but they didn't have any better ideas. The doors opened, and the agents poured out onto the street. Skipper set off towards the nearest terminal, and the rest followed as fast as they could without dropping their bundle. Popeye and Rodent shifted their grips, each avoiding the eyes of bystanders staring at these men unloading what was obviously a body. "You think they'd accept my application for a transfer after this?" Rodent asked. "Hey, for a containment team this outfit is actually pretty cushy," Popeye responded. "You could have spent this whole time in //literal hell//." Rodent chuckled. "Frankly? That might be an improvement." [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-05T04:24:00	[ "_licensebox", "coldpostcon", "tale" ]	Rush Hour - SCP Foundation	14	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "coldpostcon" ]	[]	1445393145	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/rush-hour
samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="hide"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">Byㅤ</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645368" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1685422775 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">30 May 2023 04:59</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> </div> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p><strong>Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</strong><br/> <span class="bt bb">By</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043740" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span><br/> <strong>Published on 30 May 2023</strong></p> <p>Written for <strong><a href="/romcon" target="_blank">RomCon: an SCP Original Character Tournament</a></strong>, Round 1.</p> <p>This article is part of the forthcoming <strong>Weaving Imperceptible Threads Canon Hub</strong>.</p> <hr/> <div class="tablerig"> <h3><span>Other Works by Lt Flops!</span></h3> <hr/> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">SCP Articles</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4420">SCP-4420</a></td> <td>+273</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4416">SCP-4416</a></td> <td>+209</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4790">SCP-4790</a></td> <td>+186</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3570">EE-3570</a></td> <td>+186</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4031">SCP-4031</a></td> <td>+168</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5990">SCP-5990</a></td> <td>+149</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3787">SCP-3787</a></td> <td>+136</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5810">SCP-5810</a></td> <td>+135</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3464">SCP-3464</a></td> <td>+130</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4190">SCP-4190</a></td> <td>+106</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3719">SCP-3719</a></td> <td>+91</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6327">SCP-6327</a></td> <td>+78</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7723">SCP-7723</a></td> <td>+61</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Tales</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-2">SCP-2</a></td> <td>+193</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-abyss-gazes-back">The Abyss Gazes Back (and It's ASCII on a CRT Screen)</a></td> <td>+118</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-doctor-s-dilemma">The Doctor's Dilemma</a></td> <td>+93</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/fifthist-family-picnic">fifthist family picnic</a></td> <td>+88</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/umbral-migratory-sequence">UMBRAL_MIGRATORY_SEQUENCE.txt</a></td> <td>+88</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/buggy-hardware">Buggy Hardware (or Why I Don't Play Violent Video Games)</a></td> <td>+85</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/what-lurks">What Lurks in the Dark?</a></td> <td>+76</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/no-sense-crying">Spilled Milk</a></td> <td>+73</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-scene-from-a-meme">A Scene From a Meme(-ory)</a></td> <td>+73</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/illac">Illac</a></td> <td>+70</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/crispy-sex-pirates">A Surprise Encounter with Crispy Sex Pirates</a></td> <td>+63</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/inner-space">INNER-SPACE</a></td> <td>+54</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-necromantic-prelude">A Necromantic Prelude</a></td> <td>+36</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/an-old-familiar-dream">A Prologue: An Old, Familiar Dream</a></td> <td>+29</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/pursuing-ghosts-part-1">Pursuing Ghosts, Part I</a></td> <td>+28</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/solidao">Solidão</a></td> <td>+27</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider">Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</a></td> <td>+25</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/pursuing-ghosts-part-2">Pursuing Ghosts, Part II</a></td> <td>+15</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">GOI Formats</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-993">SPC-993: BOBBLE THE CLOWN SHARK</a></td> <td>+141</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-507">SPC-507: EAGER NETHERENDER</a></td> <td>+120</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/saturn-s-corner">SATURN'S CORNER</a></td> <td>+106</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scattersomnia">"Scattersomnia": A Disease of the Wise and Drowsy Wanderers</a></td> <td>+104</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Hubs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/void-dancer-hub">Void Dancer Hub</a></td> <td>+111</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">CSS Themes</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:pataphysics">'Pataphysics Department Theme</a></td> <td>+133</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:classic">Classic SCP Foundation Theme</a></td> <td>+123</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:flopstyle-dark">Flopstyle: DARK</a></td> <td>+107</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:flopstyle">Flopstyle: LITE</a></td> <td>+83</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:pack-of-peanuts">Pack Of Peanuts Theme</a></td> <td>+52</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:anon">Parawatch Anon Theme</a></td> <td>+48</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:saphir">SAPPHIRE Theme Redux</a></td> <td>+44</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/theme:sapphire">SAPPHIRE Theme</a></td> <td>+23</td> </tr> </table> </div> <h3><span>Collaborations</span></h3> <hr/> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored SCP Articles</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-3309">SCP-3309</a> - Where We Go When We Fade, Fade Away</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/phamtomguy" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7630719); return false;">PhamtomGuy</a></span></td> <td>+1173</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-3739">SCP-3739</a> - <span style="color: hsl(214, 95%, 24%)">Mind-Milk™ by Moosphere, Inc.</span></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+285</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">SCP-4428</span> <a href="/scp-4428">Dr. Michaels</a> - <span class="lie">Dr. Michaels is not in danger.</span></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/henzoids-author-page" target="_blank">Henzoid</a></td> <td>+480</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-4475">SCP-4475</a> - So Long, and Thanks for All the Milk</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+176</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-4519">SCP-4519</a> - Carl Sagan, Godhead</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/natalie-watts" target="_blank">NatVoltaic</a></td> <td>+175</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-4795">SCP-4795</a> - Feathered F(r)iends</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/dr-mews-personnel-file" target="_blank">Mew-ltiverse</a></td> <td>+125</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6447">SCP-6447</a> - Sinners' Symphony</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/elunerazim" target="_blank">Elunerazim</a> & Others</td> <td>+54</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6481">SCP-6481</a> - Nipple Centipedes</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/ellie3-gimmick-free" target="_blank">Ellie3</a></td> <td>+107</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6705">SCP-6705</a> - The Bicameral Milk</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/lord-stonefish" target="_blank">LordStonefish</a></td> <td>+87</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-6830">SCP-6830</a> - Oops! All Atens!</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/ariadnes-malibu-dream-house" target="_blank">AriadnesThread</a></td> <td>+93</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/scp-7010">SCP-7010</a> - We Will Endure</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/stormbreath" target="_blank">Stormbreath</a></td> <td>+161</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored Tales</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/avian-anthology-i">Avian Anthology I</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/bird" target="_blank">Team Bird</a></td> <td>+76</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/avian-anthology-ii">Avian Anthology II</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/bird" target="_blank">Team Bird</a></td> <td>+94</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/land-of-honey">Land Of Honey</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+111</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/broken-masquerade-epistolary">Snippets of an Unveiled World</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/researcher-nyka-s-file" target="_blank">Nykacolaquantum</a> & Others</td> <td>+299</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored GOI Formats</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/the-sacred-djehuti">The Sacred Djehuti</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/ayers-array" target="_blank">Ayers</a></td> <td>+134</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/grant-request-post-mortem-neural-preservation">GRANT REQUEST FOR THE RE-CREATION OF AN ADVANCED POSTMORTEM NEURAL PRESERVATION SYSTEM</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/uncle-nicolini-author-page" target="_blank">Uncle Nicolini</a></td> <td>+61</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/critter-profile-bartholomew">Critter Profile: Bartholomew!</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td>KindlyTurtleClem</td> <td>+137</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Co-Authored Hubs</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/bird">Team Bird Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/notgull" target="_blank">notgull</a></td> <td>+244</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/non-prophet-organization-hub">A Non-Prophet Organization Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/uncle-nicolini-author-page" target="_blank">Uncle Nicolini</a></td> <td>+115</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/i-hub">I, Hub (April Fools)</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/elenee-s-author-page" target="_blank">Elenee FishTruck</a> & Others</td> <td>+100</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/spc-hub">SPC Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/peppersghost" target="_blank">PeppersGhost</a>, <a href="/wrong-analytics" target="_blank">MrWrong</a>, & <a href="/lordxvnv" target="_blank">LORDXVNV</a></td> <td>+181</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/milk-hub">Milk Hub</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/lordxvnv" target="_blank">LORDXVNV</a></td> <td>+82</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.3em;">Other Co-Authored Pages</span></th> </tr> </table> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:1.1em;"><a href="/departments-complete-list">A Semi-Comprehensive List of Foundation Departments</a></span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Co-Author</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/top" target="_blank">TopDownUnder</a> & <a href="/dr-moned-s-temporal-pocket-universe" target="_blank">Dr Moned</a></td> <td>+237</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <h3><span>Wanderers' Library Entries</span></h3> <hr/> <div class="wanlib"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Page</th> <th>Page Info</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/lampyra-the-watcher" target="_blank">Lampyra, the Watcher</a></td> <td>Wanderers' Library Author Page</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/cave-story" target="_blank">Cave Story</a></td> <td>2020 Wanderers' Depths Contest, First Place</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/interplanetary-colonization" target="_blank">Interplanetary Colonization</a></td> <td>2021 Scavenger Hunt Contest</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/take-you-to-the-parashops" target="_blank">I'll Take You to the Parashops</a></td> <td>2021 Scavenger Hunt Contest</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/talk-of-the-town" target="_blank">Talk of the Town</a></td> <td><em>Last Light</em> Canon</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/the-foolish-one" target="_blank">The Foolish One</a></td> <td>2021 WanderCon</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider/html/423e4bca147c32519fafc4b0daf7a6fbd01951ec-10636034201976688563"></iframe></p> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="/floppyphoenix">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="byline"> <p><span class="hide">.</span><br/> <span>31</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote lightweight centered"> <h5><span>A ROMANTIC MATCH-UP BETWEEN</span></h5> <p><strong>Samara Maclear, Psionics Specialist</strong><br/> <sub><a href="/scp-3739">SCP-3739</a> / <a href="/scp-4190">SCP-4190</a> / <a href="/scp-4519">SCP-4519</a></sub></p> <h5><span>AND</span></h5> <p><span class="c"><strong>Director Celeste</strong><br/> <sub><a href="/scp-6600">SCP-6600</a></sub></span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="meta-title"> <p>Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</p> </div> <div class="pseudocrumbs"> <p><a href="/romcon">RomCon: an SCP OCT</a> » Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="justified"> <p>Your name is <strong>SAMARA MACLEAR</strong>, a ruthless Foundation Psionics Specialist.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>You awaken with a psychic shock. Something awful from another plane is clamouring to invade your groggy mind. It is inundating you (or at least making the attempt) with unwanted psywave after unwanted psywave. The mode of attack is brute, stupid force.</p> <p>If you had to describe it, you might say it is like a spindly choreography of violet-flavoured pokes. It will take a lot more than a lazy set of psychic finger-smacks to breach your psychicryptography — regardless of whether this computer metaphor fits.</p> <p>You conspire to wrench open your third eye and launch a fury right back along the carrier psywave, in a backhanded gesture to burn out the attacker’s own mind. You think the better of it — you have barely been awake long enough to muster the energy to do so. This would probably also get you fired, though not at all in the way you just described, but in a more dreadful and altogether pedestrian expression of arms-length, petty bureaucratic tyranny.</p> <p>“Ugh,” you belt out, rubbing your temples while effortlessly parrying the attack wholesale. On further consideration, you opt to block it outright.</p> <p>At the medicine cabinet, you unstopper a tab of psybuprofen, choosing the 200-mg bottle over a recommended 100-mg dosage. Just as advertised, you become relieved of your mild-to-moderate psychic headache with little more consequence than a dry mouth.</p> <p>You suddenly receive another ping. This one physical, not psychical. The Head of the Esoteric Applications Division is paging your team to telecommute onto an emergency call post-haste.</p> <p>Unfortunately, you will not have enough time to stop by the cafetorium and pick up your allotted cup of morning joe. You would cast curses — if you could cast curses — on whoever contrived this fate. You slapdashedly freshen up in the washroom adjoining your living quarters and burst into the dormitory hallway.</p> <p>You and the rest of the Psionics Team stand small and idly in a cavernous boardroom. The room has a capacity of 100; Psionics Team numbers less than 20, leader inclusive. It is the smallest team in the Division. A projector screen fills the back wall with an accompanying projector and built-in soundbar.</p> <p>Onscreen, the podium for the Division Head meeting sits unattended. You wonder if the footage is even live, or if you have been duped with a still. Fifteen minutes late has always been completely commonplace, and it is nice to see a so-called emergency is not enough to rouse the careless to show up on-time (tardy for me but not for thee!).</p> <p>“Let’s do some soul-searching here, folks,” says Psionics Team Leader Dillinger Hartwood, a chipper man with all-white hair but a youthful complexion. He speaks in a measured, Appalachian drawl. “We got some early reads on what might be going down?”</p> <p>There is a general stir amongst your coworkers, but nothing definitive. Being the team’s sole clairvoyant, you might have been of use here, but unfortunately not. Your prescription of Ψ-blockers prevents all precognition.</p> <p>You hiss at nobody in particular. “What, none of you guys got a migraine this morning?”</p> <p>Dillinger walks over to you, flashing his almost-perfect teeth. You might say he carries the visage of an immortal vampire, the description hampered only by one of his canines having fallen out and been replaced with a single-tooth silver denture. “We’ve had a winner! Any tips stream in from the Great Beyond, Maclear?”</p> <p>You blanch. “Yeah, I uh. Felt an unregulated psychic blitz this morning. It was caked on with a bit more vigour than usual. But, uh, consider this a status report, not a formal complaint.”</p> <p>Dillinger chuckles heartily. “You ain’t remember our sit-down — you, me, and that shorter fella at the shrink’s office?”</p> <p>That’s right. You were supposed to enroll yourself in those psionic shield-casting classes. The ones your psych (interprable as either a psychiatrist or a psychic pun) recommended at Dillinger’s behest. The ones that would nip in the bud any persistent exogenous memory attacks. The ones that would have your third eye kept vigil while you slept. You will have to at least remember to set up one of those Transients: A type of self-perpetuating mental construct used as a delayed-onset memetic alert system; an alarm clock for ESPers. Psychics like to arrange these in the human noösphere for purely procrastinative purposes. Set one up, and mayhaps you can remember to remember.</p> <p>“Shoot. It completely slipped my mind, Dill,” you tell him.</p> <p>No time to feel bad about forgetting now; there’s activity on the projector!</p> <p>A stream of lackadaisical people in white coats and suits begins filing behind the podium onscreen. At one point in the procession, the camera operator has to zoom out to account for just how many people stepped in.</p> <p>A heavyset man in a well-pressed navy blue suit closes out the line-up. The new Head of Esoteric Applications. With the exception of mad-scientist hair and bottle-cap glasses, he is the most professional number. First, he takes his place behind the podium, setting down his papers. Then, he shuffles them for ten seconds, checks his designer watch, spends another ten panning his attention across the empty conference room, and clears his throat of phantom phlegm in the upper larynx. Finally, he pulls down the lectern mic.</p> <p>“Thank you, all of you, for joining us this morning. The Directorship has some important words.” He looks offscreen (left, from your perspective) and nods. “I will now defer to my Speaker.”</p> <p>Failing to disclose the purpose for the meeting, or even introduce himself, he steps aside; his job seemingly done.</p> <p>A moment later, a younger, shorter, and thinner woman in a snakeskin pantsuit takes the podium. “Hello, everyone, and good morning. I’m Dr. Fatimah Na’ima, Speaker for the Directorship of the Esoteric Applications Division. If I could get your attention for just a moment.”</p> <p>There are hushed murmurs in the boardroom. You gulp, reading a vague sense of dread and apprehension floating from on high.</p> <p>She continues. “This morning, Monday, April 27th, 2020, at 0600 hours, we received a priority-one emergency parlay from Overwatch Command. It regards the initiation of VEILBURST Protocol. Henceforth, VEILBURST Protocol will be… Belay that. VEILBURST Actual has been in place now for two hours and nineteen minutes.”</p> <p>The Speaker lists off a number of action items.</p> <p>“Point one. Effective immediately. The Veil of Normality has been placed on an indefinite decommissioning track. The preservation of consensus normalcy is no longer our priority.</p> <p>“Point two. Effective immediately. Security, Containment, and Protection of Anomalous phenomena will continue, with a limited set of exceptions. A definitive list will be made available on Wednesday at 0900 hours.</p> <p>“Point three. This afternoon at 1300 hours. The existence of the SCP Foundation, UN Global Occult Coalition, and Horizon Initiative will be revealed to the international community.</p> <p>“Point four. Tuesday at 0800 hours. The Canadian and American governments will publicly disclose the existence of the RCMP Occult and Supernatural Activities Taskforce, and the FBI Unusual Incidents Unit, to their respective civilian populations.</p> <p>“Point five…”</p> <p>A series of shocking statements and ill-timed revelations barrages you and the rest of the Psionics Team. A mixture of psychically registered and physically commensurate shock plays across the face of each member.</p> <p>This will take some time.</p> <p>The remainder of the workday plays out like one unceasing practical joke. One whose punchline nobody has the etiquette to inform you or your compatriots of. You have enough foreknowledge, however, to identify the joke’s subject:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="centered"> <p>You.<br/></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Somewhere around point one-hundred and forty-seven, the Speaker declared that work would resume, unabated, for every team in the Esoteric Applications Division. Indeed, nothing would fundamentally change. The tension, meanwhile, remained palpable for every single member of every single team at every level and in every section of the Site, and likely many others.</p> <p>It felt like attending church in your Sunday best and, instead of having your youth pastor give his prepared sermon, members of the clergy marched in and told the congregation that everything they ever preached was a lie. Jesus wasn’t the Son of God, but a run-of-the-mill itinerant socialist. Miracles were never divine intervention, but mere coincidence. And prayer? Well, some self-reflection — <em>when done in strict moderation!</em> — never hurt nobody.</p> <p>Despite the enormity of today’s revelations, the workday is largely uneventful. Work continues much the same. In fact, had the news not been delivered, you surmise that the start of the workweek would not have played out any differently.</p> <p>The Lifted Veil was always the rumoured Ultimate Contingency. Was it not? The End of the World (and the Foundation) as everyone knew it — or, as most everyone didn’t, on account of the Veil’s all-encompassing effect. But nobody seems even the slightest bit fazed. Attending the mid-afternoon strategy meeting, the morning’s sword of Damocles hanging over everyone’s heads. How could they carry on planning for a world that, in under twenty-four hours, would never seem to have existed at all??</p> <p>The mental intruder — whether a “who” or a “what”, the identity eludes you still — keeps at it every few hours. At your full strength, you do not even bat an eye to fend off from it.</p> <p>You have been lying in bed, wide awake, for all of twenty minutes. As you approach the border of Dreamland, the unthinkable happens. You receive your first telepathic payload in hours.</p> <p>Whenever this happens, the expectation is that it will startle you. That it will launch you off the bed and onto the cold, padded floor of your residence, right onto your ass. That it will make a fool of you.</p> <p>Yet this is not your first rodeo. And besides: Until that alarm rings, you are off the clock. Only an ontoquake could rouse you into righteous grumpdignation.</p> <div class="narration cLead"> <p>??: Hello! Is there anyone… about? Is there anyone who I might be able to… greet? Hello?</p> <p>SAMARA: Prophecies…</p> <p>??: Why, indeed! How pleasant it is to make an acquaintance of you! I have been attempting to get through to you all day! What can I call you by, human?</p> <p>SAMARA: Popsicles.</p> <p>??: Oh?<br/></p> </div> <p>You roll onto the cool side of the pillow and come a wink closer to fast asleep.</p> <p>The velvet tapestry of a rich dream subsumes the pastel mind-phrases, and they become a silent underture. No longer a <em>what</em>ever but a <em>who</em>ever, they receive no response for the rest of the night.</p> <h2 id="toc0"><span>28 APRIL 2020</span></h2> <h4 id="toc1"><span>TUESDAY</span></h4> <hr/> <p>As though yesterday morning was not bad enough…</p> <p>You awaken with something approximating less of a migraine and more of a mental maelstrom. Your psi-sensitivity has never been quite as intense and unpleasant as it has this morning. A grimace settles over your face. Your eyes glow a pale yellow-orange passivity. It is a world of difference from the strong orange embers they effuse when you are psyching out. Today, the two expressions paint an even-coated complementary and sour picture: One of throbbing pain.</p> <p>You wonder how such a pain could find itself constrained within the confines of a human skull, and especially its squishy brain. Sometimes, you do wonder if you could wring it like a sponge and let all the undesirable thoughts splash their way out.</p> <p>Thankfully, you mind-stumble upon the source of this malady rather immediately. It is as though a whole bunch of people, by scores of hundreds, have learned for the very first time the method for transmitting their thoughts outside their skulls. Luckily for you and your little Talent, your own is ripe for the taking. Sure enough, mental traffic is busy today. But not in the manner of gridlock. A more reasonable traffic metaphor might forecast cars ripping across a ten-storey, ten-lane, omnidirectional freeway at 350 km/h, except the cars are all flying and on fire, and the flying aspect for some reason doesn’t extinguish the fire aspect.</p> <p>You wonder whether the unnamed violet messenger from yesterday has to do with today's deluge. Unfortunately, it evades further scrutiny, either choosing not to rise above the water line or finding itself subsumed.</p> <p>It takes a touch more concentration than is typical to mentally block the most potent of them. The same exercises you learned as a child who had her own psychic awakening.</p> <p>Crumpled over the medicine cabinet, you unstopper a handful of psybuprofen, squeezing the 400-mg bottle and wondering why you ever bothered with anything “recommended”. Then, you get to work figuring out the why—</p> <p>What the fuck is that sound?</p> <p>You look around the room in frantic disposition, then find the source.</p> <p>Your phone is flashing up a storm from beside your pillow.</p> <p>Your alarm has been ringing for the past 31 minutes. Considering how difficult it has been to differentiate between your own thoughts and the collectivity of overeager psychic neophytes, you never registered the urgency. You throw on your work uniform — a blood-red cloak dealie — and slip the hood over your head. Interwoven with beryllium-bronze nanofibre, this will insulate your mind from all further psionic attack.</p> <p>Now that the psybuprofen has kicked in, you are self-pityingly aware that you are late for work.</p> <p>Atop the itinerary: Discerning why, exactly, seemingly every newbie psychic on the planet planned their coming out party on the same morning. Psionics work was typically busy — that was nothing new — but it was never <em>so loud</em>.</p> <p>Most humans would be none the wiser. It would not even feel like the wind were blowing. None would feel the psychic fallout, for the human psychosphere were an ocean vast enough not to be daunted by meagre swells.</p> <p>But you, and people like you, never made the slightest pretense of being most humans.</p> <p>Psionics is another dimension along which human beings can feel, communicate, make kissy-face and fuck. Another dimension in which to play, whether music or petty politics. Not just another dimension, but many intersecting dimensions upon which the realms of for art, science, and culture could dance their dances. All things are pale imitations of their <em>true</em> selves — their psychic selves — when viewed through the baseline lens of human expression. But you live outside the frame. And there are other frames, not just in the realm of psionics, but in every Anomalistic field. From the vantage of the Foundation, there were hundreds.</p> <p>A floodgate, once damming the ocean, electing now to lift every wall.</p> <p>It seems all your teammates are suffering from the same affliction. The lot of you lounge over your workstations, bobbing and weaving in the shared panpsychismic miasma. Hypothesis after hypothesis, the modestly sized Psionics Team returns repeatedly to the same core conclusion.</p> <p>The Veil of Normality — the vast tapestry of techniques and technologies, both mundane and Anomalous, that make the supernatural seem a farce to the human population — might simply have been blocking a not-uncommon phenomenon of highly proliferated psychic communication. Before today, it could never be accessed. Indeed, this morning at 0800 hours, the agreement of secrecy held amongst the three most prominent normalcy-preservation organizations on the planet, the Triumvirate, had been ended with a unanimous flourish. It is a new age. What comes next remains to be seen.</p> <p>If the stress from this morning were not enough, you flurry through the work at a rapid speed. Psionics was a job that one <em>could</em> work from home to complete. In fact, it is all too common. That the entire team are in-person all at once, when inter-team communication could persist psychically with every member at a different location across the planet, seems the highest formalism in the face of today’s events.</p> <p>After some hours, the tasks become amiable enough in their disposition to ease up entirely. Dillinger informs the team that every task remaining from the pre-VEILBURST period — every last one — had been completed. It is half-past 2 p.m. when he adjourns all matters.</p> <p>You beeline for the Site-82 Onboarding & Offboarding Office. You are hankering to put in a request for time off, and hope the hours you have equipped to present are enough to grant it.</p> <p>You find that you are far from the only one.</p> <p>The line-up stretches from outside and down a few bends. It seems the sabbatical request-takers are now being put to work. You get in line, feeling less like you are about to take leave and more like you are hungry for a grossly unhealthy whopper. It is an excruciating thirty-eight minutes before you come to the front of the pack yourself, and select one of eight windows inset into plexiglass façade.</p> <p>“Yes, hi. Samara Maclear?”</p> <p>The bored attendant searches your name in the database. She repeats back your role in just as bored a tone. “Samara Maclear, Psionics Specialist.”</p> <p>“That’s me.”</p> <p>“Your slip, please.”</p> <p>“Uh-huh.” You slip the slip out of your slip-holster and slot it into the slip slot installed in the desk.</p> <p>“And this is for one week?”</p> <p>“As long as you’re giving, I’m taking.”</p> <p>“That’s how it goes.” Typing easily at three hundred words a minute, she processes your request. “I did always think Long Island Medium seemed too good to be true.”</p> <p>“Well, um, me too.”</p> <p>“Really, it is. The only Anomalous thing about that show is the adobe-brick grout that woman uses to prop up the peacock cage she calls a hairstyle. ‘s far as I’m concerned, it’s confidence scams all the way down.”</p> <p>“I did used to be an avid hate-watcher of that show.” You laugh in nervous excitation.</p> <p>“I should inform you that because of the new workloads coming in next quarter, all short-term sabbaticals have been capped and will end on the 1st of May.”</p> <p>“… Meaning?”</p> <p>“Meaning a return to Site-82 by Monday will be mandatory for all personnel.”</p> <p>Your world collapses under the weight of just how chuffed you are. You have been at this post, what, a year and a half? Have you ever missed a day? And now that, what, a bunch of dull white coats have grabbed the status quo by its balls and yanked, the world has to revolve around them? The nerve!</p> <p>You try your darnedest to vacate the ire from your voice. “I— Then I’ll have the rest of the week off. Punch that in, tell me what comes up, mmkay?”</p> <p>The bored attendant continues nailing her fingers into the keyboard at breakneck speeds, then pauses to hit a climactic enter key. “So long as you come back Monday, I’m sure we won’t be having a problem.” She prints a new form and hands it back, smiling as she does.</p> <p>You smile, too, and turn to walk away, muttering a peachy ‘thank-you’. Then you place a trembling hand on your mouth.</p> <p>Uh oh…</p> <p>You book it to the washroom, dodging the under-eager queueheads lining the halls. The washroom door swings back and slams into the wall as you yack up the acid from your empty stomach, courtesy of psybuprofen side-effects, a split second short of the toilet stall, directly into the sink.</p> <h2 id="toc2"><span>29 APRIL 2020</span></h2> <h4 id="toc3"><span>WEDNESDAY</span></h4> <hr/> <p>You manage to stuff most everything you own within a sporty carry-on and a rugged old luggage. Given the circumstances, it ain’t much. You travelled with your car a few hundred kilometres mostly on a whim, and most everything important — aside from clothing and basic amenities — already exists inside your mindscape.</p> <p>You are on something like the fifteenth floor when you arrive. You knock a <a href="/local--files/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider/knock.ogg" target="_blank">Shave and a Haircut</a>-type beat onto the door.</p> <p>It swings open. Someone bounds forward, slamming into you with a hug. “Sammie! God, I’ve missed you so much, you wouldn’t believe.”</p> <p>You wrap a lazy arm around the person who opened the door. “Luna, you’re going to fucking kill me one of these days.”</p> <p>“Will I? Is it foretold? Written in the stars? Did you stare into a font of Cosmic brilliance and see the Beginning and the End dance in your eyes?”</p> <p>“It’s crushing the shit out of me, and I’ve got a first-hand account.”</p> <p>“Whatever you say, Baba Vanga. Come in already.”</p> <hr/> <p>It is something like a miracle that your ex would be so willing to take you in for a few days on short notice.</p> <p>You leave your luggage at the threshold into the spare bedroom. Considering this is the same apartment you lived in yourself some years ago, none of the typical housewarming takes place. Instead, because it’s quite late, and neither of the two of you have eaten, you offer to cook.</p> <p>“You hit me up on the right day! We’ve got kimchi in the fridge — it should be just about good to go. I’ll get it ready.”</p> <p>“You sure you’re fine with me staying here at all?” You check up on the potatoes as they boil and set up the last of the ingredients <em>mise en place</em>. “I’ll be out of your hair after the weekend.”</p> <p>“Don’t be <em>completely</em> absurd,” they tell you. “You’re always welcome.”</p> <p>“What about your roommates? Are they cool with it?”</p> <p>“Two of them are anartists, and I’m fairly sure any such question containing the word ‘cool’ is their post-hypnotic trigger phrase. But, nah, I don’t know if you’ll actually be seeing them. Hell, they might not even realize.”</p> <p>“Eh?” Stamping down the mashed potatoes over the vegetables has always been the fun part.</p> <p>“They’ve all gone to start some shit with the cops downtown. You know, because of the new curfew that just got posted. I recommended against it — didn’t want ‘em ending up in a containment cell, even after all that’s gone down — but I wouldn’t dare be the stickler on a night like this.”</p> <p>Shepherd’s Pie takes time. You are not sure you can keep up the small talk for so long. Especially when it veers into this territory. Your ex, Luna Sunwoo, is an empath. It will be rather difficult to slip anything too ludicrous past them: Namely, the fact that you work with the Jailors. You wrench your face up into your best-practiced expression of disbelief. “Now you have me curious.”</p> <p>They lean over the counter, one arm crossed by their chest and the other crooked under their chin, looking up at you. “What, you haven’t been on Void?”</p> <p>“Screw you! Void? I can’t stand that!”</p> <p>“What about the news? We only get the shitty corpo channels up here, but it’s so funny to rag on them.”</p> <p>“Luna Sunwoo, listen to the words coming out of your mouth.”</p> <p>Luna grabs your arm. “Then, may I?”</p> <p>“Of course.”</p> <p>After a moment, they close their eyes. An empath can be said to feel things on a deeper level than most people. The trained psychic empath can be said to share in those feelings — to gift them to others. They call upon a spark deep inside them.</p> <p>They channel a vision by way of skin contact alone. There are the cheers of rejoice from communities of paranatural people on the margins. The mystification from those who never conceived of a hidden world held in the illusory palm of the one they know. Tens of thousands of people have taken to the streets in celebration. And yet a state of emergency has been called province-wide.</p> <p>The visions, first free-flowing, now sit in your mind’s eye and percolate. After a moment, neither of you say anything.</p> <p>Then: “… You haven’t found a girl yet, have you?”</p> <p>The both of you burst into laughter.</p> <p>After dinner, you clear out the kitchen counter and then some. You remark on the state of the apartment. It is a lot more detestable in its muck and mess than it was when you left nearly two years ago. In one room, there are impermeable iridescent sigils floating half a metre from the floor, casting non-Euclidean shadows in the corner. A bunch of anartists and a psychic are not the most prudent people in the world when it comes to cleanliness. Compulsively, you get to work organizing the space around you for all of two minutes before Luna lectures you in self-ashamed consternation. Instead of tidying up outright, you elect to use the time getting settled to mask the act in secret. Your ex is none the wiser.</p> <p>Not trusting the feeling of a bed not your own, you pick the couch to sleep on. You and Luna both know you will end up levitating on the ceiling come tomorrow.</p> <p>You stay up watching shitty pirated streams. Sometime after the stroke of midnight, Luna makes for the door. A snap meeting has been called at the Witching Hour with their empath’s guild. Then, you are alone.</p> <p>Luna’s question to you was not one asked in pure ribbing. It was true that you had not found a girl to call your own yet. Luna was your last. It has been the better part of two years since it ended. You could not even imagine dating anyone from the Site. That a person would willingly rope themselves into such a sad negation of privacy! What’s more, working with the Foundation precludes many romantic options outside the Site, for the naked fact of the secrecy required. Perhaps not even a hardened psychic could evade the geas binding.</p> <p>Since this morning, the murmurs of a hundred thousand awakened psychics in the hyper-perceptive range have dulled to a faint background radiation. This is, of course, your training in Psionic Stoicism bearing out in sheer numbers.</p> <p>But it also trains the mind for the opposite — the ability to pinpoint the atomised dividual among many in a soup of noise.</p> <p>One voice stands distinct amongst the deluge of many others.</p> <p>A marble pillar jutting from great rapids;</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>a barrier in the traffic;</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="centered"> <p>an ebb in a gravity well around a planet.<br/></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>You try concentrating,</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>squeezing the trigger,</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="centered"> <p>to home in on it,<br/></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="width: 30%; margin: auto; text-indent: 0"> <p>systematizing the hundreds of voices into patterns so as to delve between each one of them and locate<br/></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>the one voice more angelic than all the rest.</p> </div> <p>But it doesn’t work out.</p> <p>After an hour and a half of concentration, and on the cusp of exhaustion, you resign yourself to…</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>A peerless violet, most familiar, registers as a bittersweet floral taste on your astral tongue.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="narration cLead"> <p>??: At last! I felt worried for a moment there. It must be with bounteous consideration that you choose to start the connection like this!</p> <p>SAMARA: What are you?</p> <p>??: …</p> <p>SAMARA: I’m not stupid. I can still feel you there.</p> <p>??: I sense the barest hint that you would not believe me if I told you.</p> <p>SAMARA: Bullshit. You’re a Mind. I know that much. But you’re pretty well-disposed. Whereas most Minds I come across — that are like you — they tend to be merciless barbs. So, which is it?</p> <p>??: Lost. Without an anchor. But if I am friendly, it is because I am a friend.</p> <p>SAMARA: If you were an Eldritch thought-mine, I’d already be taken. Except I can still intuit the pretentious veneer of that true crime bullshit I’ve got playing on Netflix right now, so evidently not. But I’ve been deceived before.</p> <p>??: I don’t understand. You are human; I am not. But I know you. I know humans. Humankind has long been one of my pet projects.</p> <p>SAMARA: Mmm, still not convinced. We’re at an impasse. How do I know you aren’t a mind-parasite?</p> <p>??: Hm. Do I sound like a mind-parasite?</p> <p>SAMARA: You sure don’t taste like one, anyhow. But you’re psyching me out, and I think it’s working.</p> <p>??: What do you consider a mind-parasite anyhow?</p> <p>SAMARA: Conservatism, for one.</p> <p>??: …</p> <p>SAMARA: I sense a furrowed brow? Got a name?</p> <p>CELESTE: I am Celeste. That is my name.</p> <p>SAMARA: Celeste. Mhm, that's sweet, that's definitely sweet.</p> <p>CELESTE: … This is a compliment? Thank you?</p> <p>SAMARA: I'm Samara. You can use Sam, or Sammie — pretty much anything goes with me.</p> <p>CELESTE: I already knew your name, Samara.<br/></p> </div> <p>You can't even place where the conversation goes after this point, but you have a vague sense that it carries into your dreams. You drift off into sleep, three parts exhausted, one part coming to grips with a feeling of peace you have not known for quite a long time.</p> <h2 id="toc4"><span>30 APRIL 2020</span></h2> <h4 id="toc5"><span>THURSDAY</span></h4> <hr/> <p>You wake up on the ceiling.</p> <p>This has been known to happen from time to time. It's some combination of side-effects created by a rogue mixture of Ψ-blockers and the memome-bolstering supplements that negate the damage caused by psionic overexertion.</p> <p>You slowly sink yourself back onto the couch and snatch up your phone.</p> <p>8:03. You wish it were later, much later. As a night owl, you have always considered anything before 10 AM <em>too early</em>. But alas.</p> <p>You spend the morning doing some light exercise, and then immediately give way to tidying up a bit more. Clothing is strewn out through much of the bedrooms, try as you might not to snoop. You consider the hilarity behind doing your ex's laundry.</p> <p>While making your breakfast mid-morning, you switch on the news to catch some of what Luna was discussing. How bad could it…</p> <p>Oh dear.</p> <p>That is not good. That is several layers of not good.</p> <p>News blurbs concern an in-progress containment breach being tracked. The switchers showcase a shot from early this morning, when it first appeared.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Lighting up the sky, in vistas across the planet, something truly breathtaking. A hanger-on over the ecliptic — a trail of arcane energy; a ring in the skybox.</p> <p>Anchors with the local news speak via video call to a woman you are quite familiar with. It is Dr. Imogen Metcalfe, the Director of Site-82 — the very same one at which you work.</p> <p>Much of it is flailing as the anchors fail to grapple with the thought that unicorns and faeries and pixies that fart thaumaturgically charged dust are all real aspects of the world, as much as the forces of gravity and colonialism.</p> <p>But at one point, Dr. Metcalfe hazards to put a name to phenomenon on display before her very eyes. You instinctively shut off the TV and crouch on the floor.</p> <p>Both the spontaneity and the coincidental nature of this development eschew understanding. What were the odds that two of the most prominent changes to global normalcy could take place in the same news cycle? What, indeed, were the odds?</p> <p>You sit there mostly aghast for some time. You don't check your phone.</p> <p>Eventually, you decide you need air, and go for a walk.</p> <p>In the city, the hustle and bustle is much the same, but you pass every minute or so a person or group of people aiming their phones into the sky, snapping shots of the Anomaly.</p> <p>Not having been in midtown Toronto for many years, you trace a path to where you remember High Park being. It's quite a ways, but then again, you have quite an empty schedule.</p> <hr/> <p>High Park is something of an oasis within the broader city. An untouched ecology as large as this, in the urban center of a major city, is unheard of in most any place that you might go.</p> <p>You find a place off the trail and, checking to make sure nobody spots you walking in, you wander into a dark grove.</p> <p>In your mindscape, you also try retreading the inroads to the Mind you happened upon just last night. It takes some effort, but you find your way.</p> <p>With both physical and psychical attuned, you settle in and close your eyes.</p> <div class="narration sLead"> <p>SAMARA: Celeste? Are you in here?</p> <p>CELESTE: Oh. You are back. How did you…?</p> <p>SAMARA: Find you?</p> <p>CELESTE: Yes. Where could you have thought to look?</p> <p>SAMARA: … So, like, once a telepathic connection is made, following the psywave to its source is trivial. And then… You know, it really is a simple question, truly, but answering with any degree of specificity would prove to make most people's heads spin.</p> <p>CELESTE: Am I people?</p> <p>SAMARA: Again with the hard-hitting questions.</p> <p>CELESTE: It helps me to orient myself. I am in a… bit of a predicament, you could call it.</p> <p>SAMARA: Your aura is one of the most difficult I have ever tried to nail down, yet it's. It's. It's beautiful.</p> <p>CELESTE: What is my aura?</p> <p>SAMARA: Oh, you're doing this on purpose!</p> <p>CELESTE: The only thing I know to do on purpose is exist, and even that proves boggling at the best of times.</p> <p>SAMARA: Ask me about me. Ask me something personal.</p> <p>CELESTE: What do you do with your time, then?</p> <p>SAMARA: You mean like, a job?</p> <p>CELESTE: Sure! Is it something you enjoy doing? Does it provide your lord with plenty?</p> <p>SAMARA: [Laughing] I’m sorry?</p> <p>CELESTE: Oh.</p> <p>SAMARA: What on Earth did you mean by ‘lord’?</p> <p>CELESTE: Well, this is difficult to explain.</p> <p>SAMARA: I make things move with my mind. You can fucking try me.</p> <p>CELESTE: Hm. I am admittedly unfamiliar with <em>that</em> specific human expression. How does this sound: I have access to the entire modern history of your species stretching back almost 5,000 years?</p> <p>SAMARA: Elaborate.</p> <p>CELESTE: That is, practically speaking, for a significant sum of your experiments in collective human organization, there exists something called a lord-and-serf relationship. For the sake of this present conversation I will obviously need to speak in generalities. But, essentially, it involves a hierarchy of servitude imposed over the land, where the maintenance of that land and husbandry of its natural stock of flora and fauna occurs in exchange for a provision of wares and other privileges — if I have that right? And this is not to mention the truly <em>fascinating</em> phenomenon, what you call kings? Males who — by the product of a convoluted, but largely vestigial, ceremony — are tasked to fill a role of totalizing nobility within an arbitrary territory. <em>Males</em> — think of it!</p> <p>SAMARA: [Laughing] This is like… I’m sorry, I really should compose myself. This must look so, so bad… [Laughing] God, I’m a fucking mess. Listen. It’s like, the way you’re telepathing reminds me of a Dungeon Master. Do you know what that is?</p> <p>CELESTE: … I will admit to my confusion here. Perhaps, if I take a moment to check, I can find a conspectus on the subject—</p> <p>SAMARA: You won’t. Trust me. Besides — I’m just testing you. Are you familiar with <em>that</em>?</p> <p>CELESTE: You are assessing my ability?</p> <p>SAMARA: Got that right.</p> <p>CELESTE: But now you have made me intrigued. What <em>is</em> it that you do?</p> <p>SAMARA: I’m, uh, I’m a psionics technician by trade. A psychic with a salary, I guess. I work with The Foundation — er, <em>for</em>, not with — at least, it’s not <em>for</em> them right <em>now</em>. I mean, I’m still on contract. But because I’ve taken time off, most of the harsher geasa rebuffs are reduced. Like, funny story, for some reason I feel no resistance when I mentioned it to you just now!</p> <p>CELESTE: …</p> <p>SAMARA: Not making sense, eh?</p> <p>CELESTE: That is not what I meant! All six of your human senses are performing just fine.</p> <p>SAMARA: Then?</p> <p>CELESTE: That is not what I meant. I also work with The Foundation!</p> <p>SAMARA: Now you're just fucking with me.</p> <p>CELESTE: One caveat, slight one: Not your Foundation. But a Foundation. The one we built in the place where I am from.</p> <p>SAMARA: Oooooookaaaaay…?</p> <p>CELESTE: Hah. So, what is it my aura tells you about this information?</p> <p>SAMARA: … That you're telling the truth.</p> <p>CELESTE: … And? Anything else?</p> <p>SAMARA: Honestly? That's far from the only thing. It's giving off warmth, when most would be cool. Soothing, when most might give off the texture of static electricity, almost. There are a lot of interesting properties to it… Wow.</p> <p>CELESTE: What is the matter?</p> <p>SAMARA: It's just. I haven't been this close to someone in such a long time. Although empirically speaking, our ‘close’-ness can't be quantified. But, like, it also doesn't fucking matter. If I can feel what I feel, then it's every bit as true as everything else.</p> <p>CELESTE: You are very passionate. It is one of my favourite traits in humans.</p> <p>SAMARA: Why's that?</p> <p>CELESTE: It is peculiar. There is a sense of peering into a world unto its own. That world, that passion, it can be shared innumerable times with so many different humans. And each time, it can never take away from its source; but it adds to the web of passion.</p> <p>SAMARA: Oh, that tickles.</p> <p>CELESTE: Are you uncomfortable?</p> <p>SAMARA: No, not at all! I, uh, just realized something. When I found where you are, I felt all sorts of sensations. Usually, I follow a psywave to kick somebody's ass. Here, though? It's like an embrace.</p> <p>CELESTE: My web?</p> <p>SAMARA: Right. I just didn't consider, you know, the space of things. I'm kind of new to this. [Laughing]</p> <p>CELESTE: [Laughing]</p> <p>SAMARA: Check this out!<br/></p> </div> <p>You reach into your purse and pull out a quarry of esoteric materials. You set an intention to feel lighter than air. You divine the flow of the thermals and the flux of the soft mid-morning breeze. You reach deep inside yourself, imagining your astral form as it fills your mind's eye.</p> <p>And then, you set off, one part of you staying on solid ground, the other part of you becoming lighter than the air. Coming through the canopy of the forest above, you spiral up and up, to the top of a great oak tree.</p> <p>In the orbit of your astral self, you feel Celeste, too. Xer form pulsates, almost abstractly, but all the while a substantial three-dimensional sensation, the same heat as before.</p> <p>As though in a shared embrace, you float over the top of the tree's crown, and you can see the entire green space. You see the snaking paths, brown swathes as they lead out in as many directions as the root networks deep below the soil. You see the rugged concrete, straddling the interstitial area between forest and city.</p> <div class="narration cLead"> <p>CELESTE: Oh, my goodness!</p> <p>SAMARA: What do you see?</p> <p>CELESTE: I see the forests back home. The magnificent forests. The ones my brood-sisters and I would hang from as spiderlings. Thank you…</p> <p>SAMARA: Believe me, it's my pleasure.</p> <p>CELESTE: Can we stay up here a while?</p> <p>SAMARA: Sure can.<br/></p> </div> <br/></div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">POSTSCRIPT</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">POSTSCRIPT</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="byline"> <p><span class="hide">.</span><br/> <span>5</span></p> </div> <div class="narration sLead"> <p>SAMARA: Earlier, I was thinking. And I thought this might sound silly. But. I just know, now that I've put my astral finger on it, that I won't be able to get it out of my head. So, I've got to give it a try. And… Here it is.</p> <p>CELESTE: Yes?</p> <p>SAMARA: Your aura. That violet hue of yours. I've seen it before. Like, the same exact one. You couldn't possibly tell me where it's from, could you? I mean, it isn't like non-psychics can see the world that way. And it isn't like you can control the aura you put out, either. That sounds harsh — but it's true.</p> <p>CELESTE: There is one thing.</p> <p>SAMARA: Enlighten me.</p> <p>CELESTE: There is a… A tendency you exhibit.</p> <p>SAMARA: Okay?</p> <p>CELESTE: You feel unsure of yourself. You may even feel nervous.</p> <p>SAMARA: …</p> <p>CELESTE: And so you rant. And rant, and rant. Until there is quite nothing besides to say. But still you continue.</p> <p>SAMARA: Ughhhhh! I walked right into that.</p> <p>CELESTE: What is it you humans do, when you are in the forest and catch a web right in the face? Move your arms and kick your legs in every which direction, in a sort of frenetic dance? Similar concept here.</p> <p>SAMARA: Not bad. A pretty accurate description, even. Now, can we stop goofing off and get real? I did ask you a question.</p> <p>CELESTE: Mhm-hm. Shall I answer by weaving a yarn of my own? Listen closely, dear. Then, soon enough, you will understand the truth —</p> <p>SAMARA: Your web, your rules.</p> <p>— that you have seen this very same violet inside a dream.</p> <p>SAMARA: … Huh. Got it. I'm, uh, <span style="font-size:80%;">no, listening is the absolute wrong word, hold on,</span> I've got my mind open.</p> <p>CELESTE: Thank you. <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">You can be awfully precious.</span></p> <p>SAMARA: You can, uh, shut up and tell the damn story!!</p> </div> <p>You exude your own warmth: The burning of embarassment.</p> <div class="narration cLead"> <p>CELESTE: I will skip much of this story, as there was much suffering and grief felt amongst my entire species, and to channel it now would be of the utmost cruelty to the both of us. Instead, I begin at the new beginning, thousands of years ago. A time when the lonesome remnants of my society found a new home on a lush world. A world with an adolescent hominid species: Humanity.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: My people were a group of widely differentiated arachnid creatures. We considered ourselves a powerful society. We could even weave the threads of reality as though they were silk. There existed no realm of intrigue that our brood mothers could not conquer. So, we beheld you, a species that carries such great potential. And us, the wiser ones, set to work shepherding you. But we would only set the path. You must travel of your own volition — we recognized this. But we might lead you.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: I was one of the directors who spearheaded this initiative. My successor would bring it to its completion. So gingerly, we would make some small change here, a twist of fate there, a move at every juncture. You know the story of the butterfly's wings?</p> <p>SAMARA: Sorry, what about butterflies?</p> <p>CELESTE: When she flaps her wings, a butterfly could spur a minute change in the shifting currents, bringing some calamity one foreleg closer to coming true.</p> <p>SAMARA: Right, right. The butterfly effect.</p> <p>CELESTE: We were no Destroyers. A calamity could not be. Tinkering with the threads of reality, we discovered new ways of reaching our goals. We would envelop our Sites in a special temporal orb and tune it to a highly accelerated local time frame. From inside, with a bit of persistence and some care, we could effect changes on the world, all the while avoiding any undue causal influence.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: There was one particular experiment. An experiment in subconscious suggestion. In the night, our sister agents would covertly bore small dirt tunnels beneath minor settlements where humans sleep. With a sophisticated technology, we could bore mental tunnels, too, directly into the bedrock of unconsciousness. Here, we could interface with the subconscious mind as its human slept. The process was not designed to be invasive; the furthest extent of our touch involved the insertion of rudimentary concepts. They could not mean much alone.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: In sum, however, when humans formed social bonds, they could share those ideas with only the words only they knew, thus laying claim to those concepts. It did not always work out; <span class="c"><strong><a href="/scp-3966">even Hypnos knew his tricks</a></strong></span>.</p> <p>SAMARA: There is <em>no way</em> I'm opening that. The aura is straight up unsettling.</p> <p>CELESTE: My point lies in the arrogance my society brought to your world. We thought we could program every little thing. We were too wise for our own good! None of us were perfect — not me, especially not me. I had wanted to leave my own mark. A contribution to the human story that was so totally mine, it could be mine alone.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: And when the Cosmos called me, I joined it. But I did not join it just as me. I joined it with the knowledge of humans. Of every thing we learned about you. Of every thing we learned about ourselves. All the methods we developed — that I developed — came with me. It was so long ago; in your own, even…</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: For so long I floated in a soup of nothing. A spider in xer web as it hung on the tattered folds of space. The quietude lasting longer than I could count on my forelegs.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: Until I felt you! How talented you are, to stretch your perception so far away from you! So safe in my web, alone, and the voice of a child of the world that I shepherded… She was calling me back to finish my job.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: And as her voice carried, it sung me to sleep. I reached back for thr first time in a silent millenium with a tendril, to be made known again. And I reached you. The precious young thing, who would weep when the mail came, because you knew getting the mail meant saying goodbye. The mischievous girl, who could send prep school bullies into flight, reimbursing the hurt they inflicted by the mere gesture of making eye contact. The mature specialist woman, who should know better than to grip otherwordly beings in her focus, and outplay all the old oracles of Tiresian legend with her newfound prophetic wisdom.</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: The hue you knew but could never pin down; the thing in your dreams; don't you see?</p> <p><span class="hide">.</span></p> <p>CELESTE: It was me.</p> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">POSTSCRIPT</a></div> </div> </div> <div class="blockquote lightweight"> <h3><span><a href="/romcon">RomCon</a></span></h3> <h5><span>An SCP Original Character Tournament</span></h5> <h5><span>Round 1</span></h5> <p style="text-align: center;">Hosted by <span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/uraniumempire" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1613974); return false;">UraniumEmpire</a></span></p> <h5><span>COMPETITOR</span></h5> <p style="text-align: center;"><span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-spider-queen" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7130109); return false;">The_Spider_Queen</a></span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-true earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-no {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="/"> <p><a href="/">/</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="WITCH"> <p><a href="/">WITCH</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Like Cats and Dogs (and Spiders)"> <p><a href="/like-cats-and-dogs-and-spiders">Like Cats and Dogs (and Spiders)</a></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span id="u-fade-away"></span></p> <span id="u-fade-away"></span> <p><span id="u-fade-away"></span></p> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider">Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.</a>" by Lt Flops, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider">https://scpwiki.com/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Fractal_Purple_Waves.jpg, Fractal_Purple_Waves_Mobile.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Fractal - Purple Waves<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:WelshPixie" target="_blank">WelshPixie</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)</a><br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fractal_-_Purple_Waves.png" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Note:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;"><img alt="Lt Flops" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1735419&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043740" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1735419)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lt-flops" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1735419); return false;">Lt Flops</a></span>. Cropped for desktop and mobile environments.</p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> psi.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Greek uc psi<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Fred_the_Oyster" target="_blank">Fred the Oyster</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/" target="_blank">CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication</a><br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Greek_uc_psi.svg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> knock.ogg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Shave and a haircut - Knocking on door<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Wobuzowatsj" target="_blank">Wobuzowatsj</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)</a><br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Shave_and_a_haircut_-_Knocking_on_door.ogg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </div> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> EARTHLOOP_Conduit.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Earth's Rings from Griffith Observatory (23697123503)<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/people/53460575@N03" target="_blank">Kevin Gill</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0)</a><br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Earth%27s_Rings_from_Griffith_Observatory_(23697123503).jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[div class="hide"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a> \|witch=a \|light=a]] [[/div]] [[module CSS]] /* ==== GLOBAL ==== / @import url(https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Space+Mono:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&display=swap); 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} .footing::after { top: .13rem; border-bottom: 2px solid var(--accentColorLite); } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider \|authorPage=/floppyphoenix \|comments=Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider.* [[span class="bt bb"]]By[[/span]] [[user Lt Flops]] Published on 30 May 2023* Written for *[/romcon RomCon: an SCP Original Character Tournament], Round 1. This article is part of the forthcoming Weaving Imperceptible Threads Canon Hub*. ---- [[include :scp-wiki:more-by:lt-flops]] [[/div]] [[module Rate]] [[div class="byline"]] [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] [[span]] 31 [[/span]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote lightweight centered"]] +++++ A ROMANTIC MATCH-UP BETWEEN Samara Maclear, Psionics Specialist ,,[[[SCP-3739]]] / [[[SCP-4190]]] / [[[SCP-4519]]],, +++++* AND [[span class="c"]]Director Celeste ,,[[[SCP-6600]]],,[[/span]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="meta-title"]] Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider. [[/div]] [[div class="pseudocrumbs"]] [[[romcon\|RomCon: an SCP OCT]]] >> Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="justified"]] Your name is SAMARA MACLEAR, a ruthless Foundation Psionics Specialist. [[div class="indented"]] You awaken with a psychic shock. Something awful from another plane is clamouring to invade your groggy mind. It is inundating you (or at least making the attempt) with unwanted psywave after unwanted psywave. The mode of attack is brute, stupid force. If you had to describe it, you might say it is like a spindly choreography of violet-flavoured pokes. It will take a lot more than a lazy set of psychic finger-smacks to breach your psychicryptography -- regardless of whether this computer metaphor fits. You conspire to wrench open your third eye and launch a fury right back along the carrier psywave, in a backhanded gesture to burn out the attacker’s own mind. You think the better of it -- you have barely been awake long enough to muster the energy to do so. This would probably also get you fired, though not at all in the way you just described, but in a more dreadful and altogether pedestrian expression of arms-length, petty bureaucratic tyranny. “Ugh,” you belt out, rubbing your temples while effortlessly parrying the attack wholesale. On further consideration, you opt to block it outright. At the medicine cabinet, you unstopper a tab of psybuprofen, choosing the 200-mg bottle over a recommended 100-mg dosage. Just as advertised, you become relieved of your mild-to-moderate psychic headache with little more consequence than a dry mouth. You suddenly receive another ping. This one physical, not psychical. The Head of the Esoteric Applications Division is paging your team to telecommute onto an emergency call post-haste. Unfortunately, you will not have enough time to stop by the cafetorium and pick up your allotted cup of morning joe. You would cast curses -- if you could cast curses -- on whoever contrived this fate. You slapdashedly freshen up in the washroom adjoining your living quarters and burst into the dormitory hallway. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] You and the rest of the Psionics Team stand small and idly in a cavernous boardroom. The room has a capacity of 100; Psionics Team numbers less than 20, leader inclusive. It is the smallest team in the Division. A projector screen fills the back wall with an accompanying projector and built-in soundbar. Onscreen, the podium for the Division Head meeting sits unattended. You wonder if the footage is even live, or if you have been duped with a still. Fifteen minutes late has always been completely commonplace, and it is nice to see a so-called emergency is not enough to rouse the careless to show up on-time (tardy for me but not for thee!). “Let’s do some soul-searching here, folks,” says Psionics Team Leader Dillinger Hartwood, a chipper man with all-white hair but a youthful complexion. He speaks in a measured, Appalachian drawl. “We got some early reads on what might be going down?” There is a general stir amongst your coworkers, but nothing definitive. Being the team’s sole clairvoyant, you might have been of use here, but unfortunately not. Your prescription of Ψ-blockers prevents all precognition. You hiss at nobody in particular. “What, none of you guys got a migraine this morning?” Dillinger walks over to you, flashing his almost-perfect teeth. You might say he carries the visage of an immortal vampire, the description hampered only by one of his canines having fallen out and been replaced with a single-tooth silver denture. “We’ve had a winner! Any tips stream in from the Great Beyond, Maclear?” You blanch. “Yeah, I uh. Felt an unregulated psychic blitz this morning. It was caked on with a bit more vigour than usual. But, uh, consider this a status report, not a formal complaint.” Dillinger chuckles heartily. “You ain’t remember our sit-down -- you, me, and that shorter fella at the shrink’s office?” That’s right. You were supposed to enroll yourself in those psionic shield-casting classes. The ones your psych (interprable as either a psychiatrist or a psychic pun) recommended at Dillinger’s behest. The ones that would nip in the bud any persistent exogenous memory attacks. The ones that would have your third eye kept vigil while you slept. You will have to at least remember to set up one of those Transients: A type of self-perpetuating mental construct used as a delayed-onset memetic alert system; an alarm clock for ESPers. Psychics like to arrange these in the human noösphere for purely procrastinative purposes. Set one up, and mayhaps you can remember to remember. “Shoot. It completely slipped my mind, Dill,” you tell him. No time to feel bad about forgetting now; there’s activity on the projector! A stream of lackadaisical people in white coats and suits begins filing behind the podium onscreen. At one point in the procession, the camera operator has to zoom out to account for just how many people stepped in. A heavyset man in a well-pressed navy blue suit closes out the line-up. The new Head of Esoteric Applications. With the exception of mad-scientist hair and bottle-cap glasses, he is the most professional number. First, he takes his place behind the podium, setting down his papers. Then, he shuffles them for ten seconds, checks his designer watch, spends another ten panning his attention across the empty conference room, and clears his throat of phantom phlegm in the upper larynx. Finally, he pulls down the lectern mic. “Thank you, all of you, for joining us this morning. The Directorship has some important words.” He looks offscreen (left, from your perspective) and nods. “I will now defer to my Speaker.” Failing to disclose the purpose for the meeting, or even introduce himself, he steps aside; his job seemingly done. A moment later, a younger, shorter, and thinner woman in a snakeskin pantsuit takes the podium. “Hello, everyone, and good morning. I’m Dr. Fatimah Na’ima, Speaker for the Directorship of the Esoteric Applications Division. If I could get your attention for just a moment.” There are hushed murmurs in the boardroom. You gulp, reading a vague sense of dread and apprehension floating from on high. She continues. “This morning, Monday, April 27th, 2020, at 0600 hours, we received a priority-one emergency parlay from Overwatch Command. It regards the initiation of VEILBURST Protocol. Henceforth, VEILBURST Protocol will be... Belay that. VEILBURST Actual has been in place now for two hours and nineteen minutes.” The Speaker lists off a number of action items. “Point one. Effective immediately. The Veil of Normality has been placed on an indefinite decommissioning track. The preservation of consensus normalcy is no longer our priority. “Point two. Effective immediately. Security, Containment, and Protection of Anomalous phenomena will continue, with a limited set of exceptions. A definitive list will be made available on Wednesday at 0900 hours. “Point three. This afternoon at 1300 hours. The existence of the SCP Foundation, UN Global Occult Coalition, and Horizon Initiative will be revealed to the international community. “Point four. Tuesday at 0800 hours. The Canadian and American governments will publicly disclose the existence of the RCMP Occult and Supernatural Activities Taskforce, and the FBI Unusual Incidents Unit, to their respective civilian populations. “Point five…” A series of shocking statements and ill-timed revelations barrages you and the rest of the Psionics Team. A mixture of psychically registered and physically commensurate shock plays across the face of each member. This will take some time. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] The remainder of the workday plays out like one unceasing practical joke. One whose punchline nobody has the etiquette to inform you or your compatriots of. You have enough foreknowledge, however, to identify the joke’s subject: @@ @@ [[div class="centered"]] You. [[/div]] @@ @@ Somewhere around point one-hundred and forty-seven, the Speaker declared that work would resume, unabated, for every team in the Esoteric Applications Division. Indeed, nothing would fundamentally change. The tension, meanwhile, remained palpable for every single member of every single team at every level and in every section of the Site, and likely many others. It felt like attending church in your Sunday best and, instead of having your youth pastor give his prepared sermon, members of the clergy marched in and told the congregation that everything they ever preached was a lie. Jesus wasn’t the Son of God, but a run-of-the-mill itinerant socialist. Miracles were never divine intervention, but mere coincidence. And prayer? Well, some self-reflection -- //when done in strict moderation!// -- never hurt nobody. Despite the enormity of today’s revelations, the workday is largely uneventful. Work continues much the same. In fact, had the news not been delivered, you surmise that the start of the workweek would not have played out any differently. The Lifted Veil was always the rumoured Ultimate Contingency. Was it not? The End of the World (and the Foundation) as everyone knew it -- or, as most everyone didn’t, on account of the Veil’s all-encompassing effect. But nobody seems even the slightest bit fazed. Attending the mid-afternoon strategy meeting, the morning’s sword of Damocles hanging over everyone’s heads. How could they carry on planning for a world that, in under twenty-four hours, would never seem to have existed at all?? The mental intruder -- whether a “who” or a “what”, the identity eludes you still -- keeps at it every few hours. At your full strength, you do not even bat an eye to fend off from it. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] You have been lying in bed, wide awake, for all of twenty minutes. As you approach the border of Dreamland, the unthinkable happens. You receive your first telepathic payload in hours. Whenever this happens, the expectation is that it will startle you. That it will launch you off the bed and onto the cold, padded floor of your residence, right onto your ass. That it will make a fool of you. Yet this is not your first rodeo. And besides: Until that alarm rings, you are off the clock. Only an ontoquake could rouse you into righteous grumpdignation. [[div class="narration cLead"]] ??: Hello! Is there anyone… about? Is there anyone who I might be able to… greet? Hello? SAMARA: Prophecies… ??: Why, indeed! How pleasant it is to make an acquaintance of you! I have been attempting to get through to you all day! What can I call you by, human? SAMARA: Popsicles. ??: Oh? [[/div]] You roll onto the cool side of the pillow and come a wink closer to fast asleep. The velvet tapestry of a rich dream subsumes the pastel mind-phrases, and they become a silent underture. No longer a //what//ever but a //who//ever, they receive no response for the rest of the night. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] ++ 28 APRIL 2020 ++++ TUESDAY ---- As though yesterday morning was not bad enough... You awaken with something approximating less of a migraine and more of a mental maelstrom. Your psi-sensitivity has never been quite as intense and unpleasant as it has this morning. A grimace settles over your face. Your eyes glow a pale yellow-orange passivity. It is a world of difference from the strong orange embers they effuse when you are psyching out. Today, the two expressions paint an even-coated complementary and sour picture: One of throbbing pain. You wonder how such a pain could find itself constrained within the confines of a human skull, and especially its squishy brain. Sometimes, you do wonder if you could wring it like a sponge and let all the undesirable thoughts splash their way out. Thankfully, you mind-stumble upon the source of this malady rather immediately. It is as though a whole bunch of people, by scores of hundreds, have learned for the very first time the method for transmitting their thoughts outside their skulls. Luckily for you and your little Talent, your own is ripe for the taking. Sure enough, mental traffic is busy today. But not in the manner of gridlock. A more reasonable traffic metaphor might forecast cars ripping across a ten-storey, ten-lane, omnidirectional freeway at 350 km/h, except the cars are all flying and on fire, and the flying aspect for some reason doesn’t extinguish the fire aspect. You wonder whether the unnamed violet messenger from yesterday has to do with today's deluge. Unfortunately, it evades further scrutiny, either choosing not to rise above the water line or finding itself subsumed. It takes a touch more concentration than is typical to mentally block the most potent of them. The same exercises you learned as a child who had her own psychic awakening. Crumpled over the medicine cabinet, you unstopper a handful of psybuprofen, squeezing the 400-mg bottle and wondering why you ever bothered with anything “recommended”. Then, you get to work figuring out the why-- What the fuck is that sound? You look around the room in frantic disposition, then find the source. Your phone is flashing up a storm from beside your pillow. Your alarm has been ringing for the past 31 minutes. Considering how difficult it has been to differentiate between your own thoughts and the collectivity of overeager psychic neophytes, you never registered the urgency. You throw on your work uniform -- a blood-red cloak dealie -- and slip the hood over your head. Interwoven with beryllium-bronze nanofibre, this will insulate your mind from all further psionic attack. Now that the psybuprofen has kicked in, you are self-pityingly aware that you are late for work. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] Atop the itinerary: Discerning why, exactly, seemingly every newbie psychic on the planet planned their coming out party on the same morning. Psionics work was typically busy -- that was nothing new -- but it was never //so loud//. Most humans would be none the wiser. It would not even feel like the wind were blowing. None would feel the psychic fallout, for the human psychosphere were an ocean vast enough not to be daunted by meagre swells. But you, and people like you, never made the slightest pretense of being most humans. Psionics is another dimension along which human beings can feel, communicate, make kissy-face and fuck. Another dimension in which to play, whether music or petty politics. Not just another dimension, but many intersecting dimensions upon which the realms of for art, science, and culture could dance their dances. All things are pale imitations of their //true// selves -- their psychic selves -- when viewed through the baseline lens of human expression. But you live outside the frame. And there are other frames, not just in the realm of psionics, but in every Anomalistic field. From the vantage of the Foundation, there were hundreds. A floodgate, once damming the ocean, electing now to lift every wall. It seems all your teammates are suffering from the same affliction. The lot of you lounge over your workstations, bobbing and weaving in the shared panpsychismic miasma. Hypothesis after hypothesis, the modestly sized Psionics Team returns repeatedly to the same core conclusion. The Veil of Normality -- the vast tapestry of techniques and technologies, both mundane and Anomalous, that make the supernatural seem a farce to the human population -- might simply have been blocking a not-uncommon phenomenon of highly proliferated psychic communication. Before today, it could never be accessed. Indeed, this morning at 0800 hours, the agreement of secrecy held amongst the three most prominent normalcy-preservation organizations on the planet, the Triumvirate, had been ended with a unanimous flourish. It is a new age. What comes next remains to be seen. If the stress from this morning were not enough, you flurry through the work at a rapid speed. Psionics was a job that one //could// work from home to complete. In fact, it is all too common. That the entire team are in-person all at once, when inter-team communication could persist psychically with every member at a different location across the planet, seems the highest formalism in the face of today’s events. After some hours, the tasks become amiable enough in their disposition to ease up entirely. Dillinger informs the team that every task remaining from the pre-VEILBURST period -- every last one -- had been completed. It is half-past 2 p.m. when he adjourns all matters. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] You beeline for the Site-82 Onboarding & Offboarding Office. You are hankering to put in a request for time off, and hope the hours you have equipped to present are enough to grant it. You find that you are far from the only one. The line-up stretches from outside and down a few bends. It seems the sabbatical request-takers are now being put to work. You get in line, feeling less like you are about to take leave and more like you are hungry for a grossly unhealthy whopper. It is an excruciating thirty-eight minutes before you come to the front of the pack yourself, and select one of eight windows inset into plexiglass façade. “Yes, hi. Samara Maclear?” The bored attendant searches your name in the database. She repeats back your role in just as bored a tone. “Samara Maclear, Psionics Specialist.” “That’s me.” “Your slip, please.” “Uh-huh.” You slip the slip out of your slip-holster and slot it into the slip slot installed in the desk. “And this is for one week?” “As long as you’re giving, I’m taking.” “That’s how it goes.” Typing easily at three hundred words a minute, she processes your request. “I did always think Long Island Medium seemed too good to be true.” “Well, um, me too.” “Really, it is. The only Anomalous thing about that show is the adobe-brick grout that woman uses to prop up the peacock cage she calls a hairstyle. ‘s far as I’m concerned, it’s confidence scams all the way down.” “I did used to be an avid hate-watcher of that show.” You laugh in nervous excitation. “I should inform you that because of the new workloads coming in next quarter, all short-term sabbaticals have been capped and will end on the 1st of May.” “... Meaning?” “Meaning a return to Site-82 by Monday will be mandatory for all personnel.” Your world collapses under the weight of just how chuffed you are. You have been at this post, what, a year and a half? Have you ever missed a day? And now that, what, a bunch of dull white coats have grabbed the status quo by its balls and yanked, the world has to revolve around them? The nerve! You try your darnedest to vacate the ire from your voice. “I-- Then I’ll have the rest of the week off. Punch that in, tell me what comes up, mmkay?” The bored attendant continues nailing her fingers into the keyboard at breakneck speeds, then pauses to hit a climactic enter key. “So long as you come back Monday, I’m sure we won’t be having a problem.” She prints a new form and hands it back, smiling as she does. You smile, too, and turn to walk away, muttering a peachy ‘thank-you’. Then you place a trembling hand on your mouth. Uh oh... You book it to the washroom, dodging the under-eager queueheads lining the halls. The washroom door swings back and slams into the wall as you yack up the acid from your empty stomach, courtesy of psybuprofen side-effects, a split second short of the toilet stall, directly into the sink. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] ++ 29 APRIL 2020 ++++ WEDNESDAY ---- You manage to stuff most everything you own within a sporty carry-on and a rugged old luggage. Given the circumstances, it ain’t much. You travelled with your car a few hundred kilometres mostly on a whim, and most everything important -- aside from clothing and basic amenities -- already exists inside your mindscape. You are on something like the fifteenth floor when you arrive. You knock a [/local--files/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider/knock.ogg Shave and a Haircut]-type beat onto the door. It swings open. Someone bounds forward, slamming into you with a hug. “Sammie! God, I’ve missed you so much, you wouldn’t believe.” You wrap a lazy arm around the person who opened the door. “Luna, you’re going to fucking kill me one of these days.” “Will I? Is it foretold? Written in the stars? Did you stare into a font of Cosmic brilliance and see the Beginning and the End dance in your eyes?” “It’s crushing the shit out of me, and I’ve got a first-hand account.” “Whatever you say, Baba Vanga. Come in already.” ---- It is something like a miracle that your ex would be so willing to take you in for a few days on short notice. You leave your luggage at the threshold into the spare bedroom. Considering this is the same apartment you lived in yourself some years ago, none of the typical housewarming takes place. Instead, because it’s quite late, and neither of the two of you have eaten, you offer to cook. “You hit me up on the right day! We’ve got kimchi in the fridge -- it should be just about good to go. I’ll get it ready.” “You sure you’re fine with me staying here at all?” You check up on the potatoes as they boil and set up the last of the ingredients //mise en place//. “I’ll be out of your hair after the weekend.” “Don’t be //completely// absurd,” they tell you. “You’re always welcome.” “What about your roommates? Are they cool with it?” “Two of them are anartists, and I’m fairly sure any such question containing the word ‘cool’ is their post-hypnotic trigger phrase. But, nah, I don’t know if you’ll actually be seeing them. Hell, they might not even realize.” “Eh?” Stamping down the mashed potatoes over the vegetables has always been the fun part. “They’ve all gone to start some shit with the cops downtown. You know, because of the new curfew that just got posted. I recommended against it -- didn’t want ‘em ending up in a containment cell, even after all that’s gone down -- but I wouldn’t dare be the stickler on a night like this.” Shepherd’s Pie takes time. You are not sure you can keep up the small talk for so long. Especially when it veers into this territory. Your ex, Luna Sunwoo, is an empath. It will be rather difficult to slip anything too ludicrous past them: Namely, the fact that you work with the Jailors. You wrench your face up into your best-practiced expression of disbelief. “Now you have me curious.” They lean over the counter, one arm crossed by their chest and the other crooked under their chin, looking up at you. “What, you haven’t been on Void?” “Screw you! Void? I can’t stand that!” “What about the news? We only get the shitty corpo channels up here, but it’s so funny to rag on them.” “Luna Sunwoo, listen to the words coming out of your mouth.” Luna grabs your arm. “Then, may I?” “Of course.” After a moment, they close their eyes. An empath can be said to feel things on a deeper level than most people. The trained psychic empath can be said to share in those feelings -- to gift them to others. They call upon a spark deep inside them. They channel a vision by way of skin contact alone. There are the cheers of rejoice from communities of paranatural people on the margins. The mystification from those who never conceived of a hidden world held in the illusory palm of the one they know. Tens of thousands of people have taken to the streets in celebration. And yet a state of emergency has been called province-wide. The visions, first free-flowing, now sit in your mind’s eye and percolate. After a moment, neither of you say anything. Then: “... You haven’t found a girl yet, have you?” The both of you burst into laughter. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] After dinner, you clear out the kitchen counter and then some. You remark on the state of the apartment. It is a lot more detestable in its muck and mess than it was when you left nearly two years ago. In one room, there are impermeable iridescent sigils floating half a metre from the floor, casting non-Euclidean shadows in the corner. A bunch of anartists and a psychic are not the most prudent people in the world when it comes to cleanliness. Compulsively, you get to work organizing the space around you for all of two minutes before Luna lectures you in self-ashamed consternation. Instead of tidying up outright, you elect to use the time getting settled to mask the act in secret. Your ex is none the wiser. Not trusting the feeling of a bed not your own, you pick the couch to sleep on. You and Luna both know you will end up levitating on the ceiling come tomorrow. You stay up watching shitty pirated streams. Sometime after the stroke of midnight, Luna makes for the door. A snap meeting has been called at the Witching Hour with their empath’s guild. Then, you are alone. Luna’s question to you was not one asked in pure ribbing. It was true that you had not found a girl to call your own yet. Luna was your last. It has been the better part of two years since it ended. You could not even imagine dating anyone from the Site. That a person would willingly rope themselves into such a sad negation of privacy! What’s more, working with the Foundation precludes many romantic options outside the Site, for the naked fact of the secrecy required. Perhaps not even a hardened psychic could evade the geas binding. Since this morning, the murmurs of a hundred thousand awakened psychics in the hyper-perceptive range have dulled to a faint background radiation. This is, of course, your training in Psionic Stoicism bearing out in sheer numbers. But it also trains the mind for the opposite -- the ability to pinpoint the atomised dividual among many in a soup of noise. One voice stands distinct amongst the deluge of many others. A marble pillar jutting from great rapids; @@ @@ [[>]] a barrier in the traffic; [[/>]] @@ @@ [[div class="centered"]] an ebb in a gravity well around a planet. [[/div]] @@ @@ You try concentrating, @@ @@ [[>]] squeezing the trigger, [[/>]] @@ @@ [[div class="centered"]] to home in on it, [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div style="width: 30%; margin: auto; text-indent: 0"”]] systematizing the hundreds of voices into patterns so as to delve between each one of them and locate [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[>]] the one voice more angelic than all the rest. [[/>]] ~~~~ [[div class="psych"]] [[/div]] ~~~~ But it doesn’t work out. After an hour and a half of concentration, and on the cusp of exhaustion, you resign yourself to... @@ @@ A peerless violet, most familiar, registers as a bittersweet floral taste on your astral tongue. @@ @@ [[div class="narration cLead"]] ??: At last! I felt worried for a moment there. It must be with bounteous consideration that you choose to start the connection like this! SAMARA: What are you? ??: ... SAMARA: I’m not stupid. I can still feel you there. ??: I sense the barest hint that you would not believe me if I told you. SAMARA: Bullshit. You’re a Mind. I know that much. But you’re pretty well-disposed. Whereas most Minds I come across -- that are like you -- they tend to be merciless barbs. So, which is it? ??: Lost. Without an anchor. But if I am friendly, it is because I am a friend. SAMARA: If you were an Eldritch thought-mine, I’d already be taken. Except I can still intuit the pretentious veneer of that true crime bullshit I’ve got playing on Netflix right now, so evidently not. But I’ve been deceived before. ??: I don’t understand. You are human; I am not. But I know you. I know humans. Humankind has long been one of my pet projects. SAMARA: Mmm, still not convinced. We’re at an impasse. How do I know you aren’t a mind-parasite? ??: Hm. Do I sound like a mind-parasite? SAMARA: You sure don’t taste like one, anyhow. But you’re psyching me out, and I think it’s working. ??: What do you consider a mind-parasite anyhow? SAMARA: Conservatism, for one. ??: ... SAMARA: I sense a furrowed brow? Got a name? CELESTE: I am Celeste. That is my name. SAMARA: Celeste. Mhm, that's sweet, that's definitely sweet. CELESTE: ... This is a compliment? Thank you? SAMARA: I'm Samara. You can use Sam, or Sammie -- pretty much anything goes with me. CELESTE: I already knew your name, Samara. [[/div]] You can't even place where the conversation goes after this point, but you have a vague sense that it carries into your dreams. You drift off into sleep, three parts exhausted, one part coming to grips with a feeling of peace you have not known for quite a long time. [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] ++ 30 APRIL 2020 ++++ THURSDAY ---- You wake up on the ceiling. This has been known to happen from time to time. It's some combination of side-effects created by a rogue mixture of Ψ-blockers and the memome-bolstering supplements that negate the damage caused by psionic overexertion. You slowly sink yourself back onto the couch and snatch up your phone. 8:03. You wish it were later, much later. As a night owl, you have always considered anything before 10 AM //too early//. But alas. You spend the morning doing some light exercise, and then immediately give way to tidying up a bit more. Clothing is strewn out through much of the bedrooms, try as you might not to snoop. You consider the hilarity behind doing your ex's laundry. While making your breakfast mid-morning, you switch on the news to catch some of what Luna was discussing. How bad could it... Oh dear. That is not good. That is several layers of not good. News blurbs concern an in-progress containment breach being tracked. The switchers showcase a shot from early this morning, when it first appeared. @@ @@ [[=image EARTHLOOP_Conduit.jpg style="border: 7px solid transparent; outline: 7px solid var(--fgColor)"]] @@ @@ Lighting up the sky, in vistas across the planet, something truly breathtaking. A hanger-on over the ecliptic -- a trail of arcane energy; a ring in the skybox. Anchors with the local news speak via video call to a woman you are quite familiar with. It is Dr. Imogen Metcalfe, the Director of Site-82 -- the very same one at which you work. Much of it is flailing as the anchors fail to grapple with the thought that unicorns and faeries and pixies that fart thaumaturgically charged dust are all real aspects of the world, as much as the forces of gravity and colonialism. But at one point, Dr. Metcalfe hazards to put a name to phenomenon on display before her very eyes. You instinctively shut off the TV and crouch on the floor. Both the spontaneity and the coincidental nature of this development eschew understanding. What were the odds that two of the most prominent changes to global normalcy could take place in the same news cycle? What, indeed, were the odds? [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] You sit there mostly aghast for some time. You don't check your phone. Eventually, you decide you need air, and go for a walk. In the city, the hustle and bustle is much the same, but you pass every minute or so a person or group of people aiming their phones into the sky, snapping shots of the Anomaly. Not having been in midtown Toronto for many years, you trace a path to where you remember High Park being. It's quite a ways, but then again, you have quite an empty schedule. ---- High Park is something of an oasis within the broader city. An untouched ecology as large as this, in the urban center of a major city, is unheard of in most any place that you might go. You find a place off the trail and, checking to make sure nobody spots you walking in, you wander into a dark grove. In your mindscape, you also try retreading the inroads to the Mind you happened upon just last night. It takes some effort, but you find your way. With both physical and psychical attuned, you settle in and close your eyes. [[div class="narration sLead"]] SAMARA: Celeste? Are you in here? CELESTE: Oh. You are back. How did you...? SAMARA: Find you? CELESTE: Yes. Where could you have thought to look? SAMARA: ... So, like, once a telepathic connection is made, following the psywave to its source is trivial. And then... You know, it really is a simple question, truly, but answering with any degree of specificity would prove to make most people's heads spin. CELESTE: Am I people? SAMARA: Again with the hard-hitting questions. CELESTE: It helps me to orient myself. I am in a... bit of a predicament, you could call it. SAMARA: Your aura is one of the most difficult I have ever tried to nail down, yet it's. It's. It's beautiful. CELESTE: What is my aura? SAMARA: Oh, you're doing this on purpose! CELESTE: The only thing I know to do on purpose is exist, and even that proves boggling at the best of times. SAMARA: Ask me about me. Ask me something personal. CELESTE: What do you do with your time, then? SAMARA: You mean like, a job? CELESTE: Sure! Is it something you enjoy doing? Does it provide your lord with plenty? SAMARA: [Laughing] I’m sorry? CELESTE: Oh. SAMARA: What on Earth did you mean by ‘lord’? CELESTE: Well, this is difficult to explain. SAMARA: I make things move with my mind. You can fucking try me. CELESTE: Hm. I am admittedly unfamiliar with //that// specific human expression. How does this sound: I have access to the entire modern history of your species stretching back almost 5,000 years? SAMARA: Elaborate. CELESTE: That is, practically speaking, for a significant sum of your experiments in collective human organization, there exists something called a lord-and-serf relationship. For the sake of this present conversation I will obviously need to speak in generalities. But, essentially, it involves a hierarchy of servitude imposed over the land, where the maintenance of that land and husbandry of its natural stock of flora and fauna occurs in exchange for a provision of wares and other privileges — if I have that right? And this is not to mention the truly //fascinating// phenomenon, what you call kings? Males who — by the product of a convoluted, but largely vestigial, ceremony — are tasked to fill a role of totalizing nobility within an arbitrary territory. //Males// — think of it! SAMARA: [Laughing] This is like… I’m sorry, I really should compose myself. This must look so, so bad… [Laughing] God, I’m a fucking mess. Listen. It’s like, the way you’re telepathing reminds me of a Dungeon Master. Do you know what that is? CELESTE: … I will admit to my confusion here. Perhaps, if I take a moment to check, I can find a conspectus on the subject— SAMARA: You won’t. Trust me. Besides — I’m just testing you. Are you familiar with //that//? CELESTE: You are assessing my ability? SAMARA: Got that right. CELESTE: But now you have made me intrigued. What //is// it that you do? SAMARA: I’m, uh, I’m a psionics technician by trade. A psychic with a salary, I guess. I work with The Foundation -- er, //for//, not with -- at least, it’s not //for// them right //now//. I mean, I’m still on contract. But because I’ve taken time off, most of the harsher geasa rebuffs are reduced. Like, funny story, for some reason I feel no resistance when I mentioned it to you just now! CELESTE: … SAMARA: Not making sense, eh? CELESTE: That is not what I meant! All six of your human senses are performing just fine. SAMARA: Then? CELESTE: That is not what I meant. I also work with The Foundation! SAMARA: Now you're just fucking with me. CELESTE: One caveat, slight one: Not your Foundation. But a Foundation. The one we built in the place where I am from. SAMARA: Oooooookaaaaay...? CELESTE: Hah. So, what is it my aura tells you about this information? SAMARA: ... That you're telling the truth. CELESTE: ... And? Anything else? SAMARA: Honestly? That's far from the only thing. It's giving off warmth, when most would be cool. Soothing, when most might give off the texture of static electricity, almost. There are a lot of interesting properties to it... Wow. CELESTE: What is the matter? SAMARA: It's just. I haven't been this close to someone in such a long time. Although empirically speaking, our ‘close’-ness can't be quantified. But, like, it also doesn't fucking matter. If I can feel what I feel, then it's every bit as true as everything else. CELESTE: You are very passionate. It is one of my favourite traits in humans. SAMARA: Why's that? CELESTE: It is peculiar. There is a sense of peering into a world unto its own. That world, that passion, it can be shared innumerable times with so many different humans. And each time, it can never take away from its source; but it adds to the web of passion. SAMARA: Oh, that tickles. CELESTE: Are you uncomfortable? SAMARA: No, not at all! I, uh, just realized something. When I found where you are, I felt all sorts of sensations. Usually, I follow a psywave to kick somebody's ass. Here, though? It's like an embrace. CELESTE: My web? SAMARA: Right. I just didn't consider, you know, the space of things. I'm kind of new to this. [Laughing] CELESTE: [Laughing] SAMARA: Check this out! [[/div]] You reach into your purse and pull out a quarry of esoteric materials. You set an intention to feel lighter than air. You divine the flow of the thermals and the flux of the soft mid-morning breeze. You reach deep inside yourself, imagining your astral form as it fills your mind's eye. And then, you set off, one part of you staying on solid ground, the other part of you becoming lighter than the air. Coming through the canopy of the forest above, you spiral up and up, to the top of a great oak tree. In the orbit of your astral self, you feel Celeste, too. Xer form pulsates, almost abstractly, but all the while a substantial three-dimensional sensation, the same heat as before. As though in a shared embrace, you float over the top of the tree's crown, and you can see the entire green space. You see the snaking paths, brown swathes as they lead out in as many directions as the root networks deep below the soil. You see the rugged concrete, straddling the interstitial area between forest and city. [[div class="narration cLead"]] CELESTE: Oh, my goodness! SAMARA: What do you see? CELESTE: I see the forests back home. The magnificent forests. The ones my brood-sisters and I would hang from as spiderlings. Thank you... SAMARA: Believe me, it's my pleasure. CELESTE: Can we stay up here a while? SAMARA: Sure can. [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[collapsible hideLocation="both" show="POSTSCRIPT" hide="POSTSCRIPT"]] @@ @@ [[div class="byline"]] [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] [[span]] 5 [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="narration sLead"]] SAMARA: Earlier, I was thinking. And I thought this might sound silly. But. I just know, now that I've put my astral finger on it, that I won't be able to get it out of my head. So, I've got to give it a try. And... Here it is. CELESTE: Yes? SAMARA: Your aura. That violet hue of yours. I've seen it before. Like, the same exact one. You couldn't possibly tell me where it's from, could you? I mean, it isn't like non-psychics can see the world that way. And it isn't like you can control the aura you put out, either. That sounds harsh -- but it's true. CELESTE: There is one thing. SAMARA: Enlighten me. CELESTE: There is a... A tendency you exhibit. SAMARA: Okay? CELESTE: You feel unsure of yourself. You may even feel nervous. SAMARA: ... CELESTE: And so you rant. And rant, and rant. Until there is quite nothing besides to say. But still you continue. SAMARA: Ughhhhh! I walked right into that. CELESTE: What is it you humans do, when you are in the forest and catch a web right in the face? Move your arms and kick your legs in every which direction, in a sort of frenetic dance? Similar concept here. SAMARA: Not bad. A pretty accurate description, even. Now, can we stop goofing off and get real? I did ask you a question. CELESTE: Mhm-hm. Shall I answer by weaving a yarn of my own? Listen closely, dear. Then, soon enough, you will understand the truth -- SAMARA: Your web, your rules. -- that you have seen this very same violet inside a dream. SAMARA: ... Huh. Got it. I'm, uh, [[size 80%]]no, listening is the absolute wrong word, hold on,[[/size]] I've got my mind open. CELESTE: Thank you. --You can be awfully precious.-- SAMARA: You can, uh, shut up and tell the damn story!! [[/div]] You exude your own warmth: The burning of embarassment. [[div class="narration cLead"]] CELESTE: I will skip much of this story, as there was much suffering and grief felt amongst my entire species, and to channel it now would be of the utmost cruelty to the both of us. Instead, I begin at the new beginning, thousands of years ago. A time when the lonesome remnants of my society found a new home on a lush world. A world with an adolescent hominid species: Humanity. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: My people were a group of widely differentiated arachnid creatures. We considered ourselves a powerful society. We could even weave the threads of reality as though they were silk. There existed no realm of intrigue that our brood mothers could not conquer. So, we beheld you, a species that carries such great potential. And us, the wiser ones, set to work shepherding you. But we would only set the path. You must travel of your own volition -- we recognized this. But we might lead you. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: I was one of the directors who spearheaded this initiative. My successor would bring it to its completion. So gingerly, we would make some small change here, a twist of fate there, a move at every juncture. You know the story of the butterfly's wings? SAMARA: Sorry, what about butterflies? CELESTE: When she flaps her wings, a butterfly could spur a minute change in the shifting currents, bringing some calamity one foreleg closer to coming true. SAMARA: Right, right. The butterfly effect. CELESTE: We were no Destroyers. A calamity could not be. Tinkering with the threads of reality, we discovered new ways of reaching our goals. We would envelop our Sites in a special temporal orb and tune it to a highly accelerated local time frame. From inside, with a bit of persistence and some care, we could effect changes on the world, all the while avoiding any undue causal influence. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: There was one particular experiment. An experiment in subconscious suggestion. In the night, our sister agents would covertly bore small dirt tunnels beneath minor settlements where humans sleep. With a sophisticated technology, we could bore mental tunnels, too, directly into the bedrock of unconsciousness. Here, we could interface with the subconscious mind as its human slept. The process was not designed to be invasive; the furthest extent of our touch involved the insertion of rudimentary concepts. They could not mean much alone. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: In sum, however, when humans formed social bonds, they could share those ideas with only the words only they knew, thus laying claim to those concepts. It did not always work out; [[span class="c"]][[[scp-3966\|even Hypnos knew his tricks]]][[/span]]. SAMARA: There is //no way// I'm opening that. The aura is straight up unsettling. CELESTE: My point lies in the arrogance my society brought to your world. We thought we could program every little thing. We were too wise for our own good! None of us were perfect -- not me, especially not me. I had wanted to leave my own mark. A contribution to the human story that was so totally mine, it could be mine alone. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: And when the Cosmos called me, I joined it. But I did not join it just as me. I joined it with the knowledge of humans. Of every thing we learned about you. Of every thing we learned about ourselves. All the methods we developed -- that I developed -- came with me. It was so long ago; in your own, even... [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: For so long I floated in a soup of nothing. A spider in xer web as it hung on the tattered folds of space. The quietude lasting longer than I could count on my forelegs. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: Until I felt you! How talented you are, to stretch your perception so far away from you! So safe in my web, alone, and the voice of a child of the world that I shepherded... She was calling me back to finish my job. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: And as her voice carried, it sung me to sleep. I reached back for thr first time in a silent millenium with a tendril, to be made known again. And I reached you. The precious young thing, who would weep when the mail came, because you knew getting the mail meant saying goodbye. The mischievous girl, who could send prep school bullies into flight, reimbursing the hurt they inflicted by the mere gesture of making eye contact. The mature specialist woman, who should know better than to grip otherwordly beings in her focus, and outplay all the old oracles of Tiresian legend with her newfound prophetic wisdom. [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: The hue you knew but could never pin down; the thing in your dreams; don't you see? [[span class="hide"]].[[/span]] CELESTE: It was me. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] [[=image psi.png class="scene-break icon-tint"]] [[div class="blockquote lightweight"]] +++ [[[romcon\|RomCon]]] +++++* An SCP Original Character Tournament +++++* Round 1 = Hosted by [[user UraniumEmpire]] +++++* COMPETITOR = [[user The_Spider_Queen]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=true \| last=false \| hub=no \| previous-url=/ \| previous-title=/ \| next-url=/like-cats-and-dogs-and-spiders \| next-title=Like Cats and Dogs (and Spiders) \| hub-url=/ \| hub-title=WITCH ]] @@ @@ [[div class="footing"]] [[/div]] [[span id="fade-away"]] [[module Rate]] [[/span]] ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[div class="blockquote"]] Filename: Fractal_Purple_Waves.jpg, Fractal_Purple_Waves_Mobile.jpg Name: Fractal - Purple Waves Author: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:WelshPixie WelshPixie] License:* [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/ Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)] Source Link:* [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fractal_-_Purple_Waves.png Wikimedia Commons] Note:* Edited by [[user Lt Flops]]. Cropped for desktop and mobile environments. [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Filename:* psi.png Name: Greek uc psi Author: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Fred_the_Oyster Fred the Oyster] License:* [https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/ CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication] Source Link:* [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Greek_uc_psi.svg Wikimedia Commons] [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Filename:* knock.ogg Name: Shave and a haircut - Knocking on door Author: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Wobuzowatsj Wobuzowatsj] License:* [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/ Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)] Source Link:* [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Shave_and_a_haircut_-_Knocking_on_door.ogg Wikimedia Commons] [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote"]] Filename:* EARTHLOOP_Conduit.jpg Name: Earth's Rings from Griffith Observatory (23697123503) Author: [https://www.flickr.com/people/53460575@N03 Kevin Gill] License:* [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/ Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0)] Source Link:* [*https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Earth%27s_Rings_from_Griffith_Observatory_(23697123503).jpg Wikimedia Commons] [[/div]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-30T04:59:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "romcon2023-unofficial", "samara-maclear", "tale", "w-i-t-c-h" ]	Samara: Be the Itsy Bitsy Spider. - SCP Foundation	25	[ "romcon", "scp-4420", "scp-4416", "scp-4790", "scp-3570", "scp-4031", "scp-5990", "scp-3787", "scp-5810", "scp-3464", "scp-4190", "scp-3719", "scp-6327", "scp-7723", "scp-2", "the-abyss-gazes-back", "the-doctor-s-dilemma", "fifthist-family-picnic", "umbral-migratory-sequence", "buggy-hardware", "what-lurks", "no-sense-crying", "a-scene-from-a-meme", "illac", "crispy-sex-pirates", "inner-space", "a-necromantic-prelude", "an-old-familiar-dream", "pursuing-ghosts-part-1", "solidao", "pursuing-ghosts-part-2", "spc-993", "spc-507", "saturn-s-corner", "scattersomnia", "void-dancer-hub", "theme:pataphysics", "theme:classic", "theme:flopstyle-dark", "theme:flopstyle", "theme:pack-of-peanuts", "theme:anon", "theme:saphir", "theme:sapphire", "scp-3309", "scp-3739", "scp-4428", "henzoids-author-page", "scp-4475", "scp-4519", "natalie-watts", "scp-4795", "dr-mews-personnel-file", "scp-6447", "elunerazim", "scp-6481", "ellie3-gimmick-free", "scp-6705", "lord-stonefish", "scp-6830", "ariadnes-malibu-dream-house", "scp-7010", "stormbreath", "avian-anthology-i", "bird", "avian-anthology-ii", "land-of-honey", "broken-masquerade-epistolary", "researcher-nyka-s-file", "the-sacred-djehuti", "ayers-array", "grant-request-post-mortem-neural-preservation", "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "critter-profile-bartholomew", "notgull", "non-prophet-organization-hub", "i-hub", "elenee-s-author-page", "spc-hub", "peppersghost", "wrong-analytics", "lordxvnv", "milk-hub", "departments-complete-list", "top", "dr-moned-s-temporal-pocket-universe", "floppyphoenix", "component:info-ayers", "scp-6600", "scp-3966", "like-cats-and-dogs-and-spiders", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "void-dancer-hub", "bird", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon" ]	[]	1447968313	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/samara-be-the-itsy-bitsy-spider
santa-claus-procedures-part-2	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>4</p> </div> <p>Under normal circumstances, replacing all of one's bodily fluids with Baileys Irish cream would have been fatal. It <em>should</em> have been fatal. Fortunately for the Yule Man (or perhaps unfortunately), he was far from normal. He was haphazardly stumbling and staggering wherever he went, seeking a place of respite until he could soberize - that is, if he was even able to. He didn't quite understand the nature of this cruel Christmas joke that the pretender had done to him.</p> <p>Eventually, he collapsed on the street of some gated community. The Yule Man smiled as he admired the twinkling lights and decorations strung up across the neighborhood. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a swarm of people closing in around him carrying ropes of Christmas lights and singing yuletide carols.</p> <p>The on-site personnel, upon instantly recognizing the creature that had just materialized and collapsed in the middle of the road, immediately initiated a state of emergency. Alarms began to go off and heavily armed teams of MTFs scrambled to contain whatever the unholy union of the Yule Man and <a href="/scp-784">Christmas spirit</a> was going to produce.</p> <p>Nothing could prepare them for what was gestating within that gated community.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>5</p> </div> <p>Far off in a particular <strong><span style="color: green">arboreal dimension</span></strong>, an old man was making his way to visit an old friend for the holidays. <a href="/taboo">It was a dangerous place that starved for names</a>. Those with names had to take great care when speaking of it. However, he didn't need to be careful. He was immune to the nomenclature consequences of this <strong><span style="color: green">realm under hill and sea</span></strong> and was freely able to speak their absent names. He himself had many names, but tonight he would go by <a href="/scp-5925">the Holly King</a>.</p> <p>The Holly king eventually arrived at a home with a thatched roof nestled deep within <strong><span style="color: green">the unspoken woods</span></strong>. Rapping on the door, he began to jokingly sing a wassailing song.</p> <p>"<em>Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green.<br/> Here we come a-wandering so fairly to be seen…</em>"</p> <p>Soon the door opened and there stood a skeletal equine creature adorned with festive baubles, bells and tinsel. Although the entity lacked skin and muscles on its face, it was clear by the jovial bouncing in his step that he was happy to see the Holly King and found his singing amusing.</p> <p>"Haha! What a surprise, my dear old friend,<br/> normally when wassailing, I'm on the other end!"</p> <p>The two met in a brotherly embrace and exchanged pleasantries.</p> <p>"How have things been since last we met, <a href="/scp-6596">Mari Lwyd</a>?"</p> <p>"I've been merry and well!<br/> and I've found me a <a href="/scp-1471">belle</a>,<br/> Please, come on in and dine!<br/> I have prepared flesh and wine!"</p> <p>The Holly King followed his friend into his home. That evening they ate, drank, laughed, and told stories by a warm hearth. But as they relaxed by the fire, they found their night interrupted by a rapping at the door.</p> <p>"I didn't know you were expecting more guests."</p> <p>"None, other than you, my friend.<br/> No one else was to come and attend."</p> <p>"Well, you stay put. I'll go see who it is." The Holly King placed his glass down and got up to answer the door. Upon opening, he was greeted by a smiling woman with long white hair. She wore a lavish red Santa suit and was accompanied by a shorter woman with a rather long tongue. She tipped her top hat to him in salutations.</p> <p>"Ah! Just the man I wished to see! I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, I'm-"</p> <p>"Holly Light…" he interrupted, "…and Ms. Judith Papill. To what do I owe the pleasure? Is Wondertainment collecting donations this year? Ho ho ho!"</p> <p>"In a way, yes." she said stepping forward, "I was hoping you could spare a few names."</p> <p>Before the Holly King had time to react, she pulled a comically large sword from within her coat and pointed it at his throat.</p> <p>"Put the toy away before you hurt yourself, Holly."</p> <p>"You're looking at the new face of Christmas, old man. I'm here to contest your crown."</p> <p>"Ma’am…” Judy interjected, trying her best to de-escalate. “Our best strategy is to gain allies, not steal their power."</p> <p>Hearing the commotion, Mari Lwyd came to check on what was going on. Entering into his kitchen, he saw the fray that was ensuing.</p> <p>"What is the meaning of this egregious sin?<br/> Withdraw your blade from my guest’s chin!”</p> <p>A cloud of ash suddenly exploded from the fireplace. As it settled, a figure emerged - standing before them at the cobblestone hearth was an elderly man in a soot-covered Santa Claus costume.</p> <p>The Holly King looked upon the Santa Claus before him in curiosity. This was the first time he actually encountered this one, whom he knew as <a href="/scp-2412-j">the Laplander</a>, in person. He was aware of all his aspects and those who bore his names, but this one had always felt different. He was more definite. He wasn't just yet another Santa Claus, but rather something more…pure and innocent. As if born from a joke or a <a href="/scp-239">child</a>'s imagination.</p> <p>"A Joulupukki? Why are you here?<br/> Shouldn't you be out spreading Christmas cheer?"</p> <p>"Something else is doing that right now. A twisted abomination, the one segmented from the Holly King long ago. Something's corrupted him and now he threatens to consume the world in his madness."</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"That THING threatens my image,” Holly interjected, sitting up and dusting off her top hat. “Honestly, how did you guys just let him run amok in the past? If I’m to be the new Kris Kringle, I don’t want it tainting my brand like that! This is exactly why we need to pursue legal action against Gamers Against Weed, Judy!"</p> <p>“(I keep telling you we don’t have a case! Their Misters Against Weed are protected under parody!)”</p> <p>“Hold on - new Kris Kringle?” The Holly King chuckled as if just hearing a bad joke.</p> <p>“Don't laugh! I'm serious! Look, I'm sorry about the whole sword biz - you know how cut-throat capitalism can be. A new era is on the horizon and Wondertainment is planning to monopolize on the Holiday Season. I even got that rude Santa god's blessing!"</p> <p>The Holly King simply rolled his eyes.</p> <p>"If we could get back to the crisis at hand!" The Santa Claus interrupted, "Your majesty, we need your help stopping Gluggagægir."</p> <p>The Holly King gave it some thought, stroking his beard in contemplation as he did, before turning back towards him. "If things are as dire as you say, then I will help - I am, after all, somewhat responsible for his existence. What's your plan?"</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>6</p> </div> <p>Over in Poland, <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-120">Site-120</a> had a special guest at their staff holiday party. Brought all the way from Site-322 was a man named <a href="/scp-6483">Nicolas Roberts</a>. He was a kind old man with reality-bending powers who simply wanted to be Santa Claus - an innocent wish that the Foundation eventually granted him.</p> <p>Watching him entertain the staff from across the decorated breakroom were site director Daniel Asheworth and Dr. Jessie Rivera, both enjoying a glass of eggnog together.</p> <p>"You know," Asheworth told her, "when you first told me that you got us a Santa for our holiday party, I was worried it was going to be Dr. Shaw."</p> <p>Dr. Rivera nearly spit her drink in laughter.</p> <p>"Pffft- Elias Shaw? I'm pretty sure he's not even allowed to host holiday parties anymore, let alone play Santa."</p> <p>Nicolas had been handing out gifts to the staff, pulling them out of thin air from within his sack. Each gift he produced was personalized for the recipient. They were all relatively simple gifts, nothing too extravagant of course. The Scranton Reality Anchor in his spine dampening his reality-bending abilities likely wouldn't let him do anything too crazy anyways.</p> <p>"So what did you get?" she asked him.</p> <p>"Oh, nothing special. Just some new pairs of socks." he lied. In reality, he got a cute pair of baby blue cat ear wireless headphones, but he'd sooner volunteer for Keter Duty than admit that to anybody.</p> <p>"Really? That <em>socks</em>." Dr. Rivera chortled.</p> <p>It took Asheworth longer than he should have to get the awful pun she just made. He was too preoccupied by the thought of getting home and trying out his new catboy headset.</p> <p>"Sir! 6596! It's back!" a researcher shouted, pointing at the figure standing before Nicolas. It resembled a hobby horse of sorts with what looked like a horse skull and a bed sheet draped over its body. Not yet noticing the personnel's panic at their sudden presence, he greeted them with a jolly demeanor - blissfully unaware of the creature’s true nature.</p> <p>"Oh! I know this one! It’s a wassailing custom from South Wales, yes? The Mary…Lewd? Loyd? Well, let’s see what I have for you…"</p> <p>Nicolas reached into his bag to produce a gift for the entity, but was stopped when he heard it begin to speak.</p> <p>“No time for gifts or jolly wassail,<br/> I have come to see you bail.<br/> To recruit you on this longest night,<br/> And show a demon one hell of a fight.”</p> <p>And with the rhyme’s end, the two suddenly vanished just as a security team burst through the doors.</p> <p>“SHIT!” Dr. Rivera exclaimed. Nick was under her supervision and losing him was not going to look good on her record.</p> <p>“6596 has taken 6483.” Asheworth told the security team.</p> <p>“It took Nicolas? Aw man!” a security officer said, “I love that guy!”</p> <p>As the personnel began to scramble and deliberate their next course of action, another agent burst in. He was out of breath, having ran across the facility to find the director.</p> <p>“Director Asheworth! I couldn’t get a hold of you on the comms!”</p> <p>“We just had a containment breach, so you’ll forgive me if I’ve been preoccupied.”</p> <p>“We have bigger problems…” he said, panting. “O5 Command just sent out a Foundation-wide alert…we may have a K-class scenario on our hands.”</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>7</p> </div> <p>Stan Clane sat in an old office chair unraveling the foil of a Hershey's Kiss while looking attentively at the two standing before him. Dr. Thaddeus Xyank and his colleague Dr. Isle Reynders were debriefing him on the situation while he helped himself to the bowl of festive chocolates on the desk.</p> <p>"You're telling me the world is currently under siege by…a Santa Claus parade?"</p> <p>"Yeah, pretty much. It's currently spreading across the continental United States and assimilating everyone in its path into its twisted procession - including Foundation facilities and the anomalies they have contained."</p> <p>"Site-73 was the first to fall." added Dr. Reynders, "Sites 45 and 666 are working on establishing a bastion over in Vegas to prevent it from expanding further west. Despite best efforts to prevent the GOC from going in guns blazing, they've already sent in and lost a large swath of their ground forces in northern Mexico."</p> <p>"So what exactly do you want me to do? Go back in time and stop it?"</p> <p>"No. We’d like you to carefully set up specific events that will put an end to this."</p> <p>"And if I do this, you'll lift my sentence?"</p> <p>"If you do this," Dr. Xyank explained, "you'll have someone to replace you and you'll be free. What do you say?"</p> <p>Stan leaned forward and smiled.</p> <p>"Let's save Christmas."</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/santa-claus-procedures-part-1">Santa Claus Procedures - Part 1</a> \| Santa Claus Procedures - Part 2 \| Santa Claus Procedures - Part 3»</strong></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/santa-claus-procedures-part-2">Santa Claus Procedures: Part 2</a>" by Zal Cryptid, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/santa-claus-procedures-part-2">https://scpwiki.com/santa-claus-procedures-part-2</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/theme:xmas">theme:xmas</a> \|xmas-header-bhl= --] \|xmas-snow-bhl= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:acs-animation">:scp-wiki:component:acs-animation</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-subtitle: "SANTA CLAUS PROCEDURES"; } [[/module]] [[module CSS]] .addendum { border:solid 2px #999999; background:#F5F5F5; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px auto; } [[/module]] [[module CSS]] /-- ACS Lite Animation Compatibility Patch --/ .anom-bar > .bottom-box::before { display: none; } .anom-bar > .bottom-box { box-shadow: none!important; } div.diamond-part { clip-path: none; animation: none; box-shadow: none!important; } @media (max-width: 480px) { div.top-right-box { clip-path: polygon(0% -30%, 100% -30%, 100% 130%, 0% 130%); } } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] 4 [[/=]] Under normal circumstances, replacing all of one's bodily fluids with Baileys Irish cream would have been fatal. It //should// have been fatal. Fortunately for the Yule Man (or perhaps unfortunately), he was far from normal. He was haphazardly stumbling and staggering wherever he went, seeking a place of respite until he could soberize - that is, if he was even able to. He didn't quite understand the nature of this cruel Christmas joke that the pretender had done to him. Eventually, he collapsed on the street of some gated community. The Yule Man smiled as he admired the twinkling lights and decorations strung up across the neighborhood. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a swarm of people closing in around him carrying ropes of Christmas lights and singing yuletide carols. The on-site personnel, upon instantly recognizing the creature that had just materialized and collapsed in the middle of the road, immediately initiated a state of emergency. Alarms began to go off and heavily armed teams of MTFs scrambled to contain whatever the unholy union of the Yule Man and [[[SCP-784\|Christmas spirit]]] was going to produce. Nothing could prepare them for what was gestating within that gated community. ------ [[=]] 5 [[/=]] Far off in a particular ##green\|arboreal dimension##, an old man was making his way to visit an old friend for the holidays. [[[taboo\|It was a dangerous place that starved for names]]]. Those with names had to take great care when speaking of it. However, he didn't need to be careful. He was immune to the nomenclature consequences of this ##green\|realm under hill and sea## and was freely able to speak their absent names. He himself had many names, but tonight he would go by [[[SCP-5925\|the Holly King]]]. The Holly king eventually arrived at a home with a thatched roof nestled deep within ##green\|the unspoken woods##. Rapping on the door, he began to jokingly sing a wassailing song. "//Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green. Here we come a-wandering so fairly to be seen...//" Soon the door opened and there stood a skeletal equine creature adorned with festive baubles, bells and tinsel. Although the entity lacked skin and muscles on its face, it was clear by the jovial bouncing in his step that he was happy to see the Holly King and found his singing amusing. "Haha! What a surprise, my dear old friend, normally when wassailing, I'm on the other end!" The two met in a brotherly embrace and exchanged pleasantries. "How have things been since last we met, [[[SCP-6596\|Mari Lwyd]]]?" "I've been merry and well! and I've found me a [[[SCP-1471\|belle]]], Please, come on in and dine! I have prepared flesh and wine!" The Holly King followed his friend into his home. That evening they ate, drank, laughed, and told stories by a warm hearth. But as they relaxed by the fire, they found their night interrupted by a rapping at the door. "I didn't know you were expecting more guests." "None, other than you, my friend. No one else was to come and attend." "Well, you stay put. I'll go see who it is." The Holly King placed his glass down and got up to answer the door. Upon opening, he was greeted by a smiling woman with long white hair. She wore a lavish red Santa suit and was accompanied by a shorter woman with a rather long tongue. She tipped her top hat to him in salutations. "Ah! Just the man I wished to see! I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, I'm-" "Holly Light..." he interrupted, "...and Ms. Judith Papill. To what do I owe the pleasure? Is Wondertainment collecting donations this year? Ho ho ho!" "In a way, yes." she said stepping forward, "I was hoping you could spare a few names." Before the Holly King had time to react, she pulled a comically large sword from within her coat and pointed it at his throat. "Put the toy away before you hurt yourself, Holly." "You're looking at the new face of Christmas, old man. I'm here to contest your crown." "Ma’am…” Judy interjected, trying her best to de-escalate. “Our best strategy is to gain allies, not steal their power." Hearing the commotion, Mari Lwyd came to check on what was going on. Entering into his kitchen, he saw the fray that was ensuing. "What is the meaning of this egregious sin? Withdraw your blade from my guest’s chin!” A cloud of ash suddenly exploded from the fireplace. As it settled, a figure emerged - standing before them at the cobblestone hearth was an elderly man in a soot-covered Santa Claus costume. The Holly King looked upon the Santa Claus before him in curiosity. This was the first time he actually encountered this one, whom he knew as [[[SCP-2412-j\|the Laplander]]], in person. He was aware of all his aspects and those who bore his names, but this one had always felt different. He was more definite. He wasn't just yet another Santa Claus, but rather something more…pure and innocent. As if born from a joke or a [[[SCP-239\|child]]]'s imagination. "A Joulupukki? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be out spreading Christmas cheer?" "Something else is doing that right now. A twisted abomination, the one segmented from the Holly King long ago. Something's corrupted him and now he threatens to consume the world in his madness." "What?" "That THING threatens my image,” Holly interjected, sitting up and dusting off her top hat. “Honestly, how did you guys just let him run amok in the past? If I’m to be the new Kris Kringle, I don’t want it tainting my brand like that! This is exactly why we need to pursue legal action against Gamers Against Weed, Judy!" “(I keep telling you we don’t have a case! Their Misters Against Weed are protected under parody!)” “Hold on - new Kris Kringle?” The Holly King chuckled as if just hearing a bad joke. “Don't laugh! I'm serious! Look, I'm sorry about the whole sword biz - you know how cut-throat capitalism can be. A new era is on the horizon and Wondertainment is planning to monopolize on the Holiday Season. I even got that rude Santa god's blessing!" The Holly King simply rolled his eyes. "If we could get back to the crisis at hand!" The Santa Claus interrupted, "Your majesty, we need your help stopping Gluggagægir." The Holly King gave it some thought, stroking his beard in contemplation as he did, before turning back towards him. "If things are as dire as you say, then I will help - I am, after all, somewhat responsible for his existence. What's your plan?" ------ [[=]] 6 [[/=]] Over in Poland, [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-120\|Site-120]]] had a special guest at their staff holiday party. Brought all the way from Site-322 was a man named [[[SCP-6483\|Nicolas Roberts]]]. He was a kind old man with reality-bending powers who simply wanted to be Santa Claus - an innocent wish that the Foundation eventually granted him. Watching him entertain the staff from across the decorated breakroom were site director Daniel Asheworth and Dr. Jessie Rivera, both enjoying a glass of eggnog together. "You know," Asheworth told her, "when you first told me that you got us a Santa for our holiday party, I was worried it was going to be Dr. Shaw." Dr. Rivera nearly spit her drink in laughter. "Pffft- Elias Shaw? I'm pretty sure he's not even allowed to host holiday parties anymore, let alone play Santa." Nicolas had been handing out gifts to the staff, pulling them out of thin air from within his sack. Each gift he produced was personalized for the recipient. They were all relatively simple gifts, nothing too extravagant of course. The Scranton Reality Anchor in his spine dampening his reality-bending abilities likely wouldn't let him do anything too crazy anyways. "So what did you get?" she asked him. "Oh, nothing special. Just some new pairs of socks." he lied. In reality, he got a cute pair of baby blue cat ear wireless headphones, but he'd sooner volunteer for Keter Duty than admit that to anybody. "Really? That //socks//." Dr. Rivera chortled. It took Asheworth longer than he should have to get the awful pun she just made. He was too preoccupied by the thought of getting home and trying out his new catboy headset. "Sir! 6596! It's back!" a researcher shouted, pointing at the figure standing before Nicolas. It resembled a hobby horse of sorts with what looked like a horse skull and a bed sheet draped over its body. Not yet noticing the personnel's panic at their sudden presence, he greeted them with a jolly demeanor - blissfully unaware of the creature’s true nature. "Oh! I know this one! It’s a wassailing custom from South Wales, yes? The Mary…Lewd? Loyd? Well, let’s see what I have for you…" Nicolas reached into his bag to produce a gift for the entity, but was stopped when he heard it begin to speak. “No time for gifts or jolly wassail, I have come to see you bail. To recruit you on this longest night, And show a demon one hell of a fight.” And with the rhyme’s end, the two suddenly vanished just as a security team burst through the doors. “SHIT!” Dr. Rivera exclaimed. Nick was under her supervision and losing him was not going to look good on her record. “6596 has taken 6483.” Asheworth told the security team. “It took Nicolas? Aw man!” a security officer said, “I love that guy!” As the personnel began to scramble and deliberate their next course of action, another agent burst in. He was out of breath, having ran across the facility to find the director. “Director Asheworth! I couldn’t get a hold of you on the comms!” “We just had a containment breach, so you’ll forgive me if I’ve been preoccupied.” “We have bigger problems…” he said, panting. “O5 Command just sent out a Foundation-wide alert…we may have a K-class scenario on our hands.” ------ [[=]] 7 [[/=]] Stan Clane sat in an old office chair unraveling the foil of a Hershey's Kiss while looking attentively at the two standing before him. Dr. Thaddeus Xyank and his colleague Dr. Isle Reynders were debriefing him on the situation while he helped himself to the bowl of festive chocolates on the desk. "You're telling me the world is currently under siege by…a Santa Claus parade?" "Yeah, pretty much. It's currently spreading across the continental United States and assimilating everyone in its path into its twisted procession - including Foundation facilities and the anomalies they have contained." "Site-73 was the first to fall." added Dr. Reynders, "Sites 45 and 666 are working on establishing a bastion over in Vegas to prevent it from expanding further west. Despite best efforts to prevent the GOC from going in guns blazing, they've already sent in and lost a large swath of their ground forces in northern Mexico." "So what exactly do you want me to do? Go back in time and stop it?" "No. We’d like you to carefully set up specific events that will put an end to this." "And if I do this, you'll lift my sentence?" "If you do this," Dr. Xyank explained, "you'll have someone to replace you and you'll be free. What do you say?" Stan leaned forward and smiled. "Let's save Christmas." = « [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/santa-claus-procedures-part-1 Santa Claus Procedures - Part 1] \| Santa Claus Procedures - Part 2 \| Santa Claus Procedures - Part 3» [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-05T01:53:00	[ "_licensebox", "christmas", "delta-t", "doctor-asheworth", "doctor-reynders", "doctor-rivera", "dr-wondertainment", "fantasy", "holly-light", "judy-papill", "nameless", "tale", "thad-xyank" ]	Santa Claus Procedures: Part 2 - SCP Foundation	10	[ "scp-784", "taboo", "scp-5925", "scp-6596", "scp-1471", "scp-2412-j", "scp-239", "secure-facility-dossier-site-120", "scp-6483", "santa-claus-procedures-part-1", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "welcome-to-delta-t", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "dr-wondertainment-hub" ]	[]	1448289548	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/santa-claus-procedures-part-2
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return false;">Author</a></span>:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/la-kanro" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3741648); return false;"><img alt="la kanro" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3741648&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3741648)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/la-kanro" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3741648); return false;">la kanro</a></span></p> <p><strong><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/derivative" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4327797); return false;"><img alt="Derivative" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4327797&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4327797)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/derivative" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4327797); return false;">Derivative</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span>:</strong> <a href="/scp-173">SCP-173</a> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/by" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4382170); return false;"><img alt="by" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4382170&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4382170)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/by" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4382170); return false;">by</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moto42" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(175861); return false;"><img alt="Moto42" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=175861&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=175861)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moto42" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(175861); return false;">Moto42</a></span></p> <p><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/todays" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1764190); return false;"><img alt="todays" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1764190&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1764190)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/todays" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1764190); return false;">todays</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/shit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(620890); return false;"><img alt="shit" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=620890&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=620890)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/shit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(620890); return false;">shit</a></span><span class="printuser"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/post" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1383009); return false;">Post</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lmao" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5225780); return false;"><img alt="lmao " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5225780&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5225780)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lmao" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5225780); return false;">lmao</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><strong><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/item" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(489071); return false;"><img alt="Item" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=489071&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=489071)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/item" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(489071); return false;">Item</a></span> #:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;"><img alt="scp-173" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1354789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1354789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;">scp-173</a></span></p> <p><strong><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(328894); return false;"><img alt="object" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=328894&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=328894)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(328894); return false;">object</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/class" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(65670); return false;"><img alt="class" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=65670&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=65670)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/class" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(65670); return false;">class</a></span>:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/euclid" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(223564); return false;"><img alt="euclid" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=223564&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=223564)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/euclid" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(223564); return false;">euclid</a></span></p> <p><strong><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/special" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(25708); return false;"><img alt="Special" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=25708&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=25708)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/special" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(25708); return false;">Special</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/containment" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1925337); return false;"><img alt="containment" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1925337&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1925337)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/containment" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1925337); return false;">containment</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/procedures" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4850807); return false;"><img alt="Procedures" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4850807&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4850807)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/procedures" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4850807); return false;">Procedures</a></span>:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/item" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(489071); return false;"><img alt="Item" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=489071&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=489071)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/item" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(489071); return false;">Item</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;"><img alt="scp-173" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1354789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1354789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;">scp-173</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5542681); return false;"><img alt="To_Be" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5542681&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5542681)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5542681); return false;">To_Be</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kept" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(472929); return false;"><img alt="kept" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=472929&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=472929)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kept" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(472929); return false;">kept</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/in" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(466106); return false;"><img alt="In" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=466106&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=466106)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/in" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(466106); return false;">In</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;"><img alt="AN" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=22758&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=22758)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;">AN</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/locked" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3354524); return false;"><img alt="Locked" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3354524&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3354524)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/locked" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3354524); return false;">Locked</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2242038); return false;"><img alt="Container" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2242038&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2242038)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2242038); return false;">Container</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;"><img alt="AT" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9382&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9382)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;">AT</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/all" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(381993); return false;"><img alt="all" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=381993&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=381993)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/all" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(381993); return false;">all</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/times" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(520602); return false;"><img alt="times" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=520602&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=520602)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/times" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(520602); return false;">times</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/when" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4703677); return false;"><img alt="When" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4703677&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4703677)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/when" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4703677); return false;">When</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;"><img alt="Personnel " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3765152&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3765152)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;">Personnel</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1652981); return false;"><img alt="Must" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1652981&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1652981)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1652981); return false;">Must</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/enter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(143211); return false;"><img alt="Enter" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=143211&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=143211)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/enter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(143211); return false;">Enter</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;"><img alt="scp-173" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1354789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1354789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;">scp-173</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2242038); return false;"><img alt="Container" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2242038&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2242038)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2242038); return false;">Container</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/no" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(454707); return false;"><img alt="NO" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=454707&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=454707)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/no" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(454707); return false;">NO</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fewer" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6309947); return false;"><img alt="fewer" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6309947&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6309947)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fewer" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6309947); return false;">fewer</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/than" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(51805); return false;"><img alt="Than" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=51805&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=51805)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/than" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(51805); return false;">Than</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/three" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(66345); return false;"><img alt="Three" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=66345&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=66345)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/three" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(66345); return false;">Three</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/may" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26352); return false;"><img alt="May" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26352&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26352)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/may" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26352); return false;">May</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/enter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(143211); return false;"><img alt="Enter" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=143211&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=143211)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/enter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(143211); return false;">Enter</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;"><img alt="AT" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9382&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9382)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;">AT</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/any" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(642764); return false;"><img alt="Any" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=642764&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=642764)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/any" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(642764); return false;">Any</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/time" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(99174); return false;"><img alt="Time" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=99174&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=99174)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/time" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(99174); return false;">Time</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;"><img alt="And" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26370&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26370)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;">And</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-door" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3083020); return false;"><img alt="The Door" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3083020&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3083020)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-door" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3083020); return false;">The Door</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5542681); return false;"><img alt="To_Be" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5542681&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5542681)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5542681); return false;">To_Be</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/locked" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3354524); return false;"><img alt="Locked" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3354524&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3354524)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/locked" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3354524); return false;">Locked</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/again" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(668209); return false;"><img alt="Again " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=668209&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=668209)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/again" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(668209); return false;">Again</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/behind" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4870143); return false;"><img alt="Behind" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4870143&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4870143)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/behind" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4870143); return false;">Behind</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/them" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(149506); return false;"><img alt="them" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=149506&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=149506)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/them" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(149506); return false;">them</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;"><img alt="AT" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9382&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9382)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;">AT</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/all" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(381993); return false;"><img alt="all" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=381993&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=381993)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/all" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(381993); return false;">all</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/times" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(520602); return false;"><img alt="times" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=520602&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=520602)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/times" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(520602); return false;">times</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/two" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(426237); return false;"><img alt="two" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=426237&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=426237)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/two" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(426237); return false;">two</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/people" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(92781); return false;"><img alt="people" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=92781&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=92781)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/people" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(92781); return false;">people</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1652981); return false;"><img alt="Must" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1652981&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1652981)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1652981); return false;">Must</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/maintain" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(130789); return false;"><img alt="Maintain" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=130789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=130789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/maintain" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(130789); return false;">Maintain</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/direct" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2017926); return false;"><img alt="Direct" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2017926&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2017926)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/direct" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2017926); return false;">Direct</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/eye" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(164674); return false;"><img alt="eye" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=164674&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=164674)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/eye" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(164674); return false;">eye</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/contact" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(262278); return false;"><img alt="Contact" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=262278&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=262278)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/contact" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(262278); return false;">Contact</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/with" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1409298); return false;"><img alt="With" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1409298&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1409298)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/with" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1409298); return false;">With</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;"><img alt="scp-173" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1354789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1354789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;">scp-173</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/until" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7533549); return false;"><img alt="until" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7533549&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7533549)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/until" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7533549); return false;">until</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/all" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(381993); return false;"><img alt="all" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=381993&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=381993)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/all" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(381993); return false;">all</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;"><img alt="Personnel " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3765152&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3765152)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;">Personnel</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vacate" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7260744); return false;"><img alt="vacate" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7260744&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7260744)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vacate" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7260744); return false;">vacate</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;"><img alt="And" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26370&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26370)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;">And</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lock" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(139822); return false;"><img alt="LOCK" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=139822&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=139822)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lock" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(139822); return false;">LOCK</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3323491); return false;"><img alt="The Container" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3323491&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3323491)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3323491); return false;">The Container</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/again" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(668209); return false;"><img alt="Again " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=668209&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=668209)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/again" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(668209); return false;">Again</a></span> .</p> <p><strong><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/description" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7860660); return false;"><img alt="Description" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7860660&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7860660)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/description" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7860660); return false;">Description</a></span>:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/move" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(32359); return false;"><img alt="MovE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=32359&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=32359)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/move" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(32359); return false;">MovE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;"><img alt="to" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=52333&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=52333)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;">to</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/site-19" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6427818); return false;"><img alt="Site-19" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6427818&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6427818)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/site-19" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6427818); return false;">Site-19</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/1993" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4166359); return false;"><img alt="1993" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4166359&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4166359)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/1993" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4166359); return false;">1993</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/origin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(273261); return false;"><img alt="origin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=273261&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=273261)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/origin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(273261); return false;">origin</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/as" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53391); return false;"><img alt="As" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53391&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53391)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/as" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53391); return false;">As</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/yet" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(82362); return false;"><img alt="yet" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=82362&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=82362)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/yet" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(82362); return false;">yet</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/unknown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1294); return false;"><img alt="unknown" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1294&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1294)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/unknown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1294); return false;">unknown</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/it" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(111092); return false;"><img alt="it" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=111092&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=111092)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/it" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(111092); return false;">it</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;"><img alt="AN" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=22758&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=22758)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;">AN</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/construction" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(153113); return false;"><img alt="construction" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=153113&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=153113)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/construction" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(153113); return false;">construction</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/from" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(393010); return false;"><img alt="from" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=393010&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=393010)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/from" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(393010); return false;">from</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/concrete" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(40513); return false;"><img alt="concrete" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=40513&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=40513)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/concrete" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(40513); return false;">concrete</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;"><img alt="And" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26370&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26370)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;">And</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rebar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(311600); return false;"><img alt="rebar" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=311600&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=311600)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rebar" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(311600); return false;">rebar</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/with" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1409298); return false;"><img alt="With" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1409298&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1409298)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/with" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1409298); return false;">With</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/traces" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4338824); return false;"><img alt="traces" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4338824&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4338824)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/traces" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4338824); return false;">traces</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/krylon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2241464); return false;"><img alt="Krylon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2241464&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2241464)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/krylon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2241464); return false;">Krylon</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/brand" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(55010); return false;"><img alt="brand" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=55010&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=55010)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/brand" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(55010); return false;">brand</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/spray" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5814244); return false;"><img alt="SpraY" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5814244&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5814244)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/spray" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5814244); return false;">SpraY</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/paint" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(136485); return false;"><img alt="Paint" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=136485&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=136485)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/paint" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(136485); return false;">Paint</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;"><img alt="scp-173" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1354789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1354789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;">scp-173</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/alive" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(277503); return false;"><img alt="ALIVE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=277503&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=277503)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/alive" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(277503); return false;">ALIVE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;"><img alt="And" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26370&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26370)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;">And</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/extremely" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2805801); return false;"><img alt="Extremely" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2805801&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2805801)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/extremely" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2805801); return false;">Extremely</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hostile" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1836950); return false;"><img alt="hostile" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1836950&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1836950)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hostile" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1836950); return false;">hostile</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7572946); return false;"><img alt="The_Object" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7572946&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7572946)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7572946); return false;">The_Object</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/cannot" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6658148); return false;"><img alt="cannot" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6658148&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6658148)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/cannot" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6658148); return false;">cannot</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/move" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(32359); return false;"><img alt="MovE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=32359&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=32359)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/move" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(32359); return false;">MovE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/while" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2197792); return false;"><img alt="WHILE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2197792&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2197792)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/while" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2197792); return false;">WHILE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/within" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4486700); return false;"><img alt="Within" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4486700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4486700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/within" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4486700); return false;">Within</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;"><img alt="AN" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=22758&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=22758)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;">AN</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/direct" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2017926); return false;"><img alt="Direct" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2017926&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2017926)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/direct" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2017926); return false;">Direct</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/line" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9872); return false;"><img alt="Line" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9872&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9872)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/line" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9872); return false;">Line</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sight" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(144848); return false;"><img alt="Sight" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=144848&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=144848)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sight" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(144848); return false;">Sight</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/line" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9872); return false;"><img alt="Line" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9872&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9872)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/line" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9872); return false;">Line</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sight" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(144848); return false;"><img alt="Sight" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=144848&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=144848)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sight" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(144848); return false;">Sight</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must-not" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5406702); return false;"><img alt="Must not" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5406702&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5406702)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must-not" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5406702); return false;">Must not</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7448); return false;"><img alt="be" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7448&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7448)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7448); return false;">be</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/broken" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53502); return false;"><img alt="broken" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53502&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53502)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/broken" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53502); return false;">broken</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;"><img alt="AT" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9382&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9382)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;">AT</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/any" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(642764); return false;"><img alt="Any" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=642764&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=642764)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/any" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(642764); return false;">Any</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/time" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(99174); return false;"><img alt="Time" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=99174&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=99174)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/time" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(99174); return false;">Time</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/with" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1409298); return false;"><img alt="With" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1409298&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1409298)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/with" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1409298); return false;">With</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;"><img alt="scp-173" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1354789&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1354789)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scp-173" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1354789); return false;">scp-173</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;"><img alt="Personnel " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3765152&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3765152)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;">Personnel</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/who" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(12780); return false;"><img alt="who" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=12780&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=12780)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/who" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(12780); return false;">who</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/have" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5724854); return false;"><img alt="Have" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5724854&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5724854)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/have" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5724854); return false;">Have</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;"><img alt="to" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=52333&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=52333)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;">to</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/enter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(143211); return false;"><img alt="Enter" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=143211&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=143211)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/enter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(143211); return false;">Enter</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2242038); return false;"><img alt="Container" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2242038&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2242038)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2242038); return false;">Container</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/are" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(49574); return false;"><img alt="Are" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=49574&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=49574)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/are" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(49574); return false;">Are</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/told" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6274592); return false;"><img alt="told" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6274592&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6274592)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/told" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6274592); return false;">told</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;"><img alt="to" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=52333&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=52333)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;">to</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/alert" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(265868); return false;"><img alt="Alert" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=265868&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=265868)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/alert" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(265868); return false;">Alert</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/one-another" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6421934); return false;"><img alt="one-another" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6421934&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6421934)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/one-another" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6421934); return false;">one-another</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/before" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1324916); return false;"><img alt="Before" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1324916&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1324916)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/before" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1324916); return false;">Before</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/blinking" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8134634); return false;"><img alt="blinking" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8134634&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8134634)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/blinking" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8134634); return false;">blinking</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(328894); return false;"><img alt="object" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=328894&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=328894)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(328894); return false;">object</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/reported" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(468639); return false;"><img alt="Reported" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=468639&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=468639)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/reported" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(468639); return false;">Reported</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;"><img alt="to" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=52333&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=52333)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;">to</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/attack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1273585); return false;"><img alt="attack" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1273585&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1273585)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/attack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1273585); return false;">attack</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/by" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4382170); return false;"><img alt="by" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4382170&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4382170)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/by" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4382170); return false;">by</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/snap" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(13566); return false;"><img alt="Snap" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=13566&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=13566)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/snap" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(13566); return false;">Snap</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;"><img alt="the" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=239102&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=239102)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;">the</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/neck" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(626954); return false;"><img alt="neck" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=626954&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=626954)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/neck" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(626954); return false;">neck</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;"><img alt="AT" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=9382&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=9382)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/at" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(9382); return false;">AT</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;"><img alt="the" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=239102&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=239102)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;">the</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/base" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(335310); return false;"><img alt="Base" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=335310&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=335310)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/base" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(335310); return false;">Base</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-skull" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(378671); return false;"><img alt="The Skull" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=378671&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=378671)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-skull" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(378671); return false;">The Skull</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/or" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(31394); return false;"><img alt="Or" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=31394&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=31394)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/or" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(31394); return false;">Or</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/by" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4382170); return false;"><img alt="by" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4382170&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4382170)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/by" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4382170); return false;">by</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strangle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(257610); return false;"><img alt="strangle" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=257610&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=257610)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/strangle" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(257610); return false;">strangle</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/in" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(466106); return false;"><img alt="In" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=466106&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=466106)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/in" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(466106); return false;">In</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;"><img alt="the" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=239102&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=239102)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;">the</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/event" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(689133); return false;"><img alt="event" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=689133&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=689133)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/event" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(689133); return false;">event</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;"><img alt="AN" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=22758&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=22758)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;">AN</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/attack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1273585); return false;"><img alt="attack" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1273585&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1273585)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/attack" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1273585); return false;">attack</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;"><img alt="Personnel " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3765152&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3765152)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;">Personnel</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/are" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(49574); return false;"><img alt="Are" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=49574&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=49574)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/are" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(49574); return false;">Are</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;"><img alt="to" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=52333&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=52333)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;">to</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/observe" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6249499); return false;"><img alt="observe" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6249499&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6249499)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/observe" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6249499); return false;">observe</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/class-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4777569); return false;"><img alt="class 4" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4777569&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4777569)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/class-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4777569); return false;">class 4</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hazardous" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1660697); return false;"><img alt="Hazardous" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1660697&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1660697)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hazardous" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1660697); return false;">Hazardous</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(328894); return false;"><img alt="object" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=328894&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=328894)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/object" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(328894); return false;">object</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/containment" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1925337); return false;"><img alt="containment" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1925337&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1925337)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/containment" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1925337); return false;">containment</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/procedures" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4850807); return false;"><img alt="Procedures" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4850807&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4850807)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/procedures" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4850807); return false;">Procedures</a></span>.</p> <p><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;"><img alt="Personnel " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3765152&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3765152)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/personnel" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3765152); return false;">Personnel</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/report" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7351650); return false;"><img alt="Report " class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7351650&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7351650)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/report" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7351650); return false;">Report</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/noise" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(35862); return false;"><img alt="noise" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=35862&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=35862)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/noise" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(35862); return false;">noise</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scraping" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(181352); return false;"><img alt="scraping" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=181352&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=181352)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/scraping" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(181352); return false;">scraping</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stone" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(45206); return false;"><img alt="Stone" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=45206&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=45206)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/stone" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(45206); return false;">Stone</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/from" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(393010); return false;"><img alt="from" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=393010&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=393010)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/from" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(393010); return false;">from</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/within" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4486700); return false;"><img alt="Within" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4486700&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4486700)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/within" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4486700); return false;">Within</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3323491); return false;"><img alt="The Container" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3323491&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3323491)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3323491); return false;">The Container</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/when" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4703677); return false;"><img alt="When" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4703677&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4703677)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/when" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4703677); return false;">When</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/no-one" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(173908); return false;"><img alt="no one" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=173908&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=173908)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/no-one" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(173908); return false;">no one</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/present" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(263937); return false;"><img alt="present" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=263937&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=263937)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/present" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(263937); return false;">present</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/inside" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(386426); return false;"><img alt="Inside" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=386426&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=386426)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/inside" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(386426); return false;">Inside</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/this" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(147219); return false;"><img alt="This" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=147219&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=147219)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/this" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(147219); return false;">This</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thought" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4768912); return false;"><img alt="thought" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4768912&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4768912)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/thought" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4768912); return false;">thought</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5542681); return false;"><img alt="To_Be" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5542681&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5542681)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5542681); return false;">To_Be</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/normal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(298448); return false;"><img alt="normal" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=298448&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=298448)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/normal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(298448); return false;">normal</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;"><img alt="And" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26370&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26370)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;">And</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/any" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(642764); return false;"><img alt="Any" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=642764&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=642764)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/any" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(642764); return false;">Any</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/change" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1314757); return false;"><img alt="ChangE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1314757&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1314757)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/change" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1314757); return false;">ChangE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/in" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(466106); return false;"><img alt="In" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=466106&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=466106)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/in" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(466106); return false;">In</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/this" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(147219); return false;"><img alt="This" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=147219&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=147219)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/this" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(147219); return false;">This</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pattern" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(744088); return false;"><img alt="pattern" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=744088&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=744088)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pattern" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(744088); return false;">pattern</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/should-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5617362); return false;"><img alt="Should be" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5617362&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5617362)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/should-be" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5617362); return false;">Should be</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/reported" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(468639); return false;"><img alt="Reported" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=468639&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=468639)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/reported" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(468639); return false;">Reported</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;"><img alt="to" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=52333&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=52333)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/to" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(52333); return false;">to</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;"><img alt="the" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=239102&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=239102)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;">the</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/acting" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6331716); return false;"><img alt="Acting" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6331716&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6331716)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/acting" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6331716); return false;">Acting</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hmcl" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4431247); return false;"><img alt="HMCL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4431247&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4431247)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/hmcl" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4431247); return false;">HMCL</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/supervisor" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(46284); return false;"><img alt="supervisor" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=46284&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=46284)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/supervisor" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(46284); return false;">supervisor</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/on" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2109184); return false;"><img alt="on" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2109184&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2109184)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/on" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2109184); return false;">on</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/duty" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(618514); return false;"><img alt="Duty" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=618514&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=618514)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/duty" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(618514); return false;">Duty</a></span>.</p> <p><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;"><img alt="the" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=239102&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=239102)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;">the</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/reddish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(385535); return false;"><img alt="reddish" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=385535&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=385535)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/reddish" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(385535); return false;">reddish</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/brown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(340); return false;"><img alt="brown" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=340&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=340)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/brown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(340); return false;">brown</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/substance" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(273801); return false;"><img alt="subSTANCE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=273801&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=273801)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/substance" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(273801); return false;">subSTANCE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/on" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2109184); return false;"><img alt="on" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2109184&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2109184)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/on" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2109184); return false;">on</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;"><img alt="the" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=239102&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=239102)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(239102); return false;">the</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floor" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(11671); return false;"><img alt="Floor" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=11671&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=11671)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/floor" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(11671); return false;">Floor</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;"><img alt="AN" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=22758&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=22758)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/an" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(22758); return false;">AN</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/combination" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6218022); return false;"><img alt="combination" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6218022&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6218022)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/combination" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6218022); return false;">combination</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/shit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(620890); return false;"><img alt="shit" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=620890&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=620890)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/shit" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(620890); return false;">shit</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;"><img alt="And" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=26370&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=26370)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/and" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(26370); return false;">And</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/blood" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(78819); return false;"><img alt="blood" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=78819&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=78819)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/blood" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(78819); return false;">blood</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/origin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(273261); return false;"><img alt="origin" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=273261&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=273261)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/origin" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(273261); return false;">origin</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;"><img alt="of" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5683754&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5683754)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/of" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5683754); return false;">of</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/these" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7703288); return false;"><img alt="TheSE" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7703288&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7703288)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/these" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7703288); return false;">TheSE</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/materials" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7596076); return false;"><img alt="materials" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7596076&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7596076)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/materials" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7596076); return false;">materials</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;"><img alt="IS" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=53529&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=53529)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/is" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(53529); return false;">IS</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/unknown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1294); return false;"><img alt="unknown" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1294&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1294)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/unknown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1294); return false;">unknown</a></span>. <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/class-d" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5824635); return false;"><img alt="Class D" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5824635&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5824635)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/class-d" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5824635); return false;">Class D</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1652981); return false;"><img alt="Must" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1652981&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1652981)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/must" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1652981); return false;">Must</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/clean" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4477433); return false;"><img alt="Clean" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4477433&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4477433)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/clean" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4477433); return false;">Clean</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3323491); return false;"><img alt="The Container" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3323491&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3323491)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/the-container" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3323491); return false;">The Container</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/every" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(573356); return false;"><img alt="every" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=573356&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=573356)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/every" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(573356); return false;">every</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/two" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(426237); return false;"><img alt="two" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=426237&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=426237)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/two" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(426237); return false;">two</a></span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/weeks" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(714647); return false;"><img alt="Weeks" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=714647&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1722740491" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=714647)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/weeks" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(714647); return false;">Weeks</a></span>.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/scp-173-but-it-s-composed-of-wikidot-usernames">SCP-173 But it's Composed Of Wikidot Usernames</a>" by la kanro, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/scp-173-but-it-s-composed-of-wikidot-usernames">https://scpwiki.com/scp-173-but-it-s-composed-of-wikidot-usernames</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] *[[user Author]]:** [[user la kanro]] [[user derivative]] [[user of]]:* [[[SCP-173]]] [[user by]] [[user Moto42]] [[user todays]] [[user shit]][[user post]] [[user lmao]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[user Item]] #:** [[user SCP-173]] [[user Object]] [[user Class]]:* [[user Euclid]] [[user Special]] [[user Containment]] [[user Procedures]]:** [[user Item]] [[user SCP-173]] [[user is]] [[user to be]] [[user kept]] [[user in]] [[user an]] [[user locked]] [[user container]] [[user at]] [[user all]] [[user times]]. [[user When]] [[user personnel]] [[user must]] [[user enter]] [[user SCP-173]] [[user container]], [[user no]] [[user fewer]] [[user than]] [[user three]] [[user may]] [[user enter]] [[user at]] [[user any]] [[user time]] [[user and]] [[user the door]] [[user is]] [[user to be]] [[user locked]] [[user again]] [[user behind]] [[user them]]. [[user at]] [[user all]] [[user times]], [[user two]] [[user people]] [[user must]] [[user maintain]] [[user direct]] [[user eye]] [[user contact]] [[user with]] [[user SCP-173]] [[user until]] [[user all]] [[user personnel]] [[user vacate]] [[user and]] [[user lock]] [[user the container]] [[user again]]. [[user Description]]:** [[user Move]] [[user to]] [[user Site-19]] [[user 1993]]. [[user Origin]] [[user is]] [[user as]] [[user of]] [[user yet]] [[user unknown]]. [[user It]] [[user is]] [[user an]] [[user construction]] [[user from]] [[user concrete]] [[user and]] [[user rebar]] [[user with]] [[user traces]] [[user of]] [[user Krylon]] [[user brand]] [[user spray]] [[user paint]]. [[user SCP-173]] [[user is]] [[user alive]] [[user and]] [[user extremely]] [[user hostile]]. [[user The object]] [[user cannot]] [[user move]] [[user while]] [[user within]] [[user an]] [[user direct]] [[user line]] [[user of]] [[user sight]]. [[user line]] [[user of]] [[user sight]] [[user must not]] [[user be]] [[user broken]] [[user at]] [[user any]] [[user time]] [[user with]] [[user SCP-173]]. [[user personnel]] [[user who]] [[user have]] [[user to]] [[user enter]] [[user container]] [[user are]] [[user told]] [[user to]] [[user alert]] [[user one another]] [[user before]] [[user blinking]]. [[user Object]] [[user is]] [[user reported]] [[user to]] [[user attack]] [[user by]] [[user snap]] [[user the]] [[user neck]] [[user at]] [[user the]] [[user base]] [[user of]] [[user the skull]], [[user or]] [[user by]] [[user strangle]]. [[user In]] [[user the]] [[user event]] [[user of]] [[user an]] [[user attack]], [[user personnel]] [[user are]] [[user to]] [[user observe]] [[user Class 4]] [[user hazardous]] [[user object]] [[user containment]] [[user procedures]]. [[user Personnel]] [[user report]] [[user noise]] [[user of]] [[user scraping]] [[user stone]] [[user from]] [[user within]] [[user the container]] [[user when]] [[user no one]] [[user is]] [[user present]] [[user inside]]. [[user This]] [[user is]] [[user thought]] [[user to be]] [[user normal]], [[user and]] [[user any]] [[user change]] [[user in]] [[user this]] [[user pattern]] [[user should be]] [[user reported]] [[user to]] [[user the]] [[user acting]] [[user HMCL]] [[user supervisor]] [[user on]] [[user duty]]. [[user The]] [[user reddish]] [[user brown]] [[user substance]] [[user on]] [[user the]] [[user floor]] [[user is]] [[user an]] [[user combination]] [[user of]] [[user shit]] [[user and]] [[user blood]]. [[user Origin]] [[user of]] [[user these]] [[user materials]] [[user is]] [[user unknown]]. [[user Class D]] [[user must]] [[user clean]] [[user The container]] [[user every]] [[user two]] [[user weeks]]. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=la kanro]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-11T07:08:00	[ "_licensebox", "comedy", "foundation-format", "joke", "tale", "the-sculpture" ]	SCP-173 But it's Composed Of Wikidot Usernames - SCP Foundation	116	[ "scp-173", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reimagined-hub", "joke-scps" ]	[]	1448968013	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173-but-it-s-composed-of-wikidot-usernames
scp-173-but-it-s-the-admonition-hub	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/basalt-bedrock-min.css&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="admo-thumbnail.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/admonition/admo-thumbnail.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>ADMONITION</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-splash"> <div class="admohub-title"> <p>SCP-173</p> </div> </div> <p><span class="admohub-quote"><span style="font-size:200%;">“</span><br/> Quotes are for dumb people who can't think of anything intelligent to say on their own.</span></p> <div class="admohub-container"> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-01"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">ITEM #:</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">SCP-173</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-02"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">OBJECT CLASS:</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">EUCLID</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-03"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES:</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Item SCP-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-04"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES (CONT.):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than 3 may enter at any time and the door is to be relocked behind them.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-05"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES (CONT.):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-06"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION:</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Moved to Site-19 1993.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-07"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Origin is as of yet unknown.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-08"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spray paint.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-09"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-10"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-11"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-12"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-13"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-14"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-15"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-16"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-17"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-18"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">Origin of these materials is unknown.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-episode" id="u-19"> <div class="admohub-epdesc"> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epdirector">MOTO42</span></p> </div> <div> <p><span class="admohub-epno">DESCRIPTION (CONT):</span><br/> <span class="admohub-eptitle">The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.</span></p> </div> <div> <p><a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173">VIEW EPISODE</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admohub-about"> <div> <p>SCP-173 is a solo-driven singular story portraying a stupid and quite idiotic SCP Foundation attempting to contain a sculpture, achieve leaving it in a box, in the name of their mission and in the spirit of not having to deal with the thing.</p> <p>The single installment, featuring a single author, aims to explore the same aspect of the SCP universe and its relationship to the story's themes. The single episode was already released according to plan; the series will end with a total of one episode plus zero complementary articles.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The story is primarily set in an ordinary timeline that branched into what became literally every other canon; no characters, SCPs, and other elements may be borrowed from the setting as they did not exist yet when the story was written.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="font-size: 90%;"> <p style="text-align: center;">Created and maintained by Moto42, MisterFrown</p> </div> <div style="word-spacing: 2px;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong><a href="https://discord.gg/ZAyqDSpZ4Y">Join Metafoundation on Discord. 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url(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8b/Red_question_mark.svg/675px-Red_question_mark.svg.png?20230909025320); --admohub-epcolor: 255, 167, 0; } #u-19 { --admohub-epbg: url(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/1c/1940_Census_Population_Schedules_-_Florida_-_Sumter_County_-_ED_60-4_-_DPLA_-_d2b873312e5700b4c48cc6e11ec98941_%28page_4%29.jpg/1178px-1940_Census_Population_Schedules_-_Florida_-_Sumter_County_-_ED_60-4_-_DPLA_-_d2b873312e5700b4c48cc6e11ec98941_%28page_4%29.jpg?20210314213346); --admohub-epcolor: 255, 167, 0; } [[/module]] [[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/admonition/admo-thumbnail.png \|caption=ADMONITION \|width=100% \|align=center]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-rate"]] [[module Rate]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-splash"]] [[div class="admohub-title"]] SCP-173 [[/div]] [[/div]] [[span class="admohub-quote"]][[size 200%]]“[[/size]] Quotes are for dumb people who can't think of anything intelligent to say on their own.[[/span]] [[div class="admohub-container"]] [[div id="01" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]ITEM #:[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]SCP-173[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="02" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]OBJECT CLASS:[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]EUCLID[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="03" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES:[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Item SCP-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="04" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES (CONT.):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than 3 may enter at any time and the door is to be relocked behind them.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="05" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES (CONT.):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="06" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION:[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Moved to Site-19 1993.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="07" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Origin is as of yet unknown.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="08" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spray paint.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="09" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="10" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="11" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="12" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="13" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="14" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="15" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="16" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="17" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="18" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]Origin of these materials is unknown.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div id="19" class="admohub-episode"]] [[div class="admohub-epimage"]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-epdesc"]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epdirector"]]MOTO42[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="admohub-epno"]]DESCRIPTION (CONT):[[/span]] [[span class="admohub-eptitle"]]The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[a class="admohub-eplink" href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173"]]VIEW EPISODE[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="admohub-about"]] [[div]] SCP-173 is a solo-driven singular story portraying a stupid and quite idiotic SCP Foundation attempting to contain a sculpture, achieve leaving it in a box, in the name of their mission and in the spirit of not having to deal with the thing. The single installment, featuring a single author, aims to explore the same aspect of the SCP universe and its relationship to the story's themes. The single episode was already released according to plan; the series will end with a total of one episode plus zero complementary articles. = @@ @@ The story is primarily set in an ordinary timeline that branched into what became literally every other canon; no characters, SCPs, and other elements may be borrowed from the setting as they did not exist yet when the story was written. = @@ @@ [[div style="font-size: 90%;"]] = Created and maintained by Moto42, MisterFrown [[/div]] [[div style="word-spacing: 2px;"]] = [[[https://discord.gg/ZAyqDSpZ4Y\|Join Metafoundation on Discord. Or don't, I'm not your boss.]]]* [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]]	2023-11-16T00:35:00	[ "_cc", "comedy", "foundation-format", "joke", "tale", "the-sculpture" ]	SCP-173 But it's the ADMONITION Hub - SCP Foundation	74	[ "scp-173" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reimagined-hub", "joke-scps" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/admonition/admo-thumbnail.png" ]	1451407263	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173-but-it-s-the-admonition-hub
scp-2023-j	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><strong>Item #:</strong> oh sweet fuck</p> <p><strong>Special Containment Procedures:</strong> i didn't write anything ALL YEAR sweet lordt there's only 45 minutes??? left??? of the whole year??? oh god cmon peppers you cant fade into irrelevance. the people need you. who do they even read these days?? rounder-house???? you can't let that happen peppers. you can't.</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a tap-dancing piece of chiese that—</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">What are you doing?</span></strong></p> <p>i'm doing a pro style skip. dabs</p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Have some self respect, man. You can't even spell 'cheese' correctly right now.</span></strong></p> <p>frk</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a whole-ass gay</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Where are you going with this? It's been three minutes since you wrote the word 'gay' and all you've done is stare at the screen.</span></strong></p> <p>because ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE. next</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a functional and ethical system of government—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a MrBeast video where he buys heaven and evicts god—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a talking penis? but it's actually really personable and considerate—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a charizard like you always wanted as a kid, but it won't stop fuckingd talking about qAnon—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a talking penis? but it's actually really personable and considerate—</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Please stop.</span></strong></p> <p>shut up Ghost of Taboo i'm living my best life</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a Disney creepypasta that's actually scary—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is an episode of <em>Whose Line Is It Anyway</em> where Drew Carey's fingers get an inch longer every 20 second until he's tickling the cast from several feet away—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is the word 'bologne'. In baseline reality it's really spelled 'baloney' but due to a cognitohazardous—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a can opener that, when it opens a can, a whole shit ton of artichokes just come flying out like a motherfucker and like, choke you to death or somth—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is an improv class that anomalously makes you feel better for a few nights a week—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is something good you made that feels like it came from someone else—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a person you aren't and will never be again—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">non-existent error in human perception known as 'writer's bloc'k</span></p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">I don’t think -J's are supposed to be sad. You’re aware of that, right?</span></strong></p> <p>did i mention shut up?</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023 is a fluffy kitty that's anomalously squishy and lazy and good and pure and—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023 is a man who's still with you after you've been sad this long—</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023 is a world that will keep on turning—</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Let’s be honest, the wholesome angle isn’t going to salvage this.</span></strong></p> <p>okay see</p> <p>THIS is your problem</p> <p>YOU didn't write any of that shit that made us good. i did</p> <p>you may have capitalized the letters and done some 'research' (that was actually just googling)</p> <p>but all that good shit happened because of ME and the badass friends that gave us crit</p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Oh yeah. Them. When are you going to talk to them again?</span></strong></p> <p>my POINT is that I DON'T NEED YOUR INPUT.</p> <p><span style="font-size:0%;">##<strong>forestgreen\|It's too late, you know.##</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size:0%;">##<strong>forestgreen\|Not to post this crappy… joke? tale? whatever it is.##</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-size:0%;">##<strong>forestgreen\|To stop <em>being</em> the crappy joke. Or tale—a cautionary one, maybe.##</strong></span></p> <p>WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE.</p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">I didn't say anything that time.</span></strong></p> <p>jimbus krist we all know how to check the page source</p> <p>that gag is older than most of The Rubber's viewers</p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">ayyyyy (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞</span></strong></p> <p>ayyyyy ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)</p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">You know what? You're right.</span></strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what I think. You can try your best to put together the most finely crafted or carefully curated piece of literature you can possibly hope to achieve on a 2006 creepypasta hole.</span></strong></p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">But it's all gonna look like shit on YouTube.</span></strong></p> <p>so why worry?</p> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Why worry, indeed.</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <div class="anom-bar-container item-2023-J clear-4 keter none vlam warning {$american}"> <div class="anom-bar"> <div class="top-box"> <div class="top-left-box"><span class="item">Item#:</span> <span class="number">2023-J</span></div> <div class="top-right-box"> <div class="level">Level4</div> </div> </div> <div class="bottom-box"> <div class="text-part"> <div class="main-class"> <div class="contain-class"> <div class="class-category">Containment Class:</div> <div class="class-text">keter</div> </div> <div class="second-class"> <div class="class-category">Secondary Class:</div> <div class="class-text">none</div> </div> </div> <div class="disrupt-class"> <div class="class-category">Disruption Class:</div> <div class="class-text">vlam</div> </div> <div class="risk-class"> <div class="class-category">Risk Class:</div> <div class="class-text">warning</div> </div> </div> <div class="diamond-part"> <div class="danger-diamond"><a href="/classification-committee-memo">link to memo</a><br/> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><strong>Special Containment Procedures:</strong> Kill it with fire.</p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> SCP-2023-J is a YouTube content farm that calls itself 'The Rubber.' Fuck that noise.</p> <p><strong>Addenum:</strong> Happy New Year.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong><span style="color: forestgreen">Y'know, that might just be enough.</span></strong></p> <p>It'll have to be. It's less than a minute til midnight</p> </blockquote> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/scp-2023-j">SCP-2023-J</a>" by PeppersGhost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/scp-2023-j">https://scpwiki.com/scp-2023-j</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Item #: oh sweet fuck Special Containment Procedures: i didn't write anything ALL YEAR sweet lordt there's only 45 minutes??? left??? of the whole year??? oh god cmon peppers you cant fade into irrelevance. the people need you. who do they even read these days?? rounder-house???? you can't let that happen peppers. you can't. Description: SCP-2023-J is a tap-dancing piece of chiese that— > ##forestgreen\|What are you doing?## > > i'm doing a pro style skip. dabs > > ##forestgreen\|Have some self respect, man. You can't even spell 'cheese' correctly right now.## > > frk Description: SCP-2023-J is a whole-ass gay > ##forestgreen\|Where are you going with this? It's been three minutes since you wrote the word 'gay' and all you've done is stare at the screen.## > > because ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE. next Description: SCP-2023-J is a functional and ethical system of government— Description: SCP-2023-J is a MrBeast video where he buys heaven and evicts god— Description: SCP-2023-J is a talking penis? but it's actually really personable and considerate— Description: SCP-2023-J is a charizard like you always wanted as a kid, but it won't stop fuckingd talking about qAnon— Description: SCP-2023-J is a talking penis? but it's actually really personable and considerate-- > ##forestgreen\|Please stop.## > > shut up Ghost of Taboo i'm living my best life Description: SCP-2023-J is a Disney creepypasta that's actually scary— Description: SCP-2023-J is an episode of //Whose Line Is It Anyway// where Drew Carey's fingers get an inch longer every 20 second until he's tickling the cast from several feet away— Description: SCP-2023-J is the word 'bologne'. In baseline reality it's really spelled 'baloney' but due to a cognitohazardous— Description: SCP-2023-J is a can opener that, when it opens a can, a whole shit ton of artichokes just come flying out like a motherfucker and like, choke you to death or somth— Description: SCP-2023-J is an improv class that anomalously makes you feel better for a few nights a week— Description: SCP-2023-J is something good you made that feels like it came from someone else— Description: SCP-2023-J is a person you aren't and will never be again— Description: SCP-2023-J is a --non-existent error in human perception known as 'writer's bloc'k-- > ##forestgreen\|I don’t think -J's are supposed to be sad. You’re aware of that, right?## > > did i mention shut up? Description: SCP-2023 is a fluffy kitty that's anomalously squishy and lazy and good and pure and— Description: SCP-2023 is a man who's still with you after you've been sad this long— Description: SCP-2023 is a world that will keep on turning— > ##forestgreen\|Let’s be honest, the wholesome angle isn’t going to salvage this.## > > okay see > > THIS is your problem > > YOU didn't write any of that shit that made us good. i did > > you may have capitalized the letters and done some 'research' (that was actually just googling) > > but all that good shit happened because of ME and the badass friends that gave us crit > > ##forestgreen\|Oh yeah. Them. When are you going to talk to them again?## > > my POINT is that I DON'T NEED YOUR INPUT. > > [[size 0%]]##forestgreen\|It's too late, you know.##[[/size]] > [[size 0%]]##forestgreen\|Not to post this crappy... joke? tale? whatever it is.##[[/size]] > [[size 0%]]##forestgreen\|To stop //being// the crappy joke. Or tale—a cautionary one, maybe.##[[/size]] > > WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE. > > ##forestgreen\|I didn't say anything that time.## > > jimbus krist we all know how to check the page source > > that gag is older than most of The Rubber's viewers > > ##forestgreen\| ayyyyy (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞## > > ayyyyy ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜) > > ##forestgreen\|You know what? You're right.## > > ##forestgreen\|At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what I think. You can try your best to put together the most finely crafted or carefully curated piece of literature you can possibly hope to achieve on a 2006 creepypasta hole.## > > ##forestgreen\|But it's all gonna look like shit on YouTube.## > > so why worry? > > ##forestgreen\|Why worry, indeed.## ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:anomaly-class-bar-source">:scp-wiki:component:anomaly-class-bar-source</a> \|item-number= 2023-J \|clearance= 4 \|container-class= keter \|secondary-class= none \|secondary-icon= https://urlhere.com \|disruption-class= vlam \|risk-class= warning ]] Special Containment Procedures: Kill it with fire. Description: SCP-2023-J is a YouTube content farm that calls itself 'The Rubber.' Fuck that noise. Addenum: Happy New Year. > ##forestgreen\|Y'know, that might just be enough.## > > It'll have to be. It's less than a minute til midnight [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-01T05:59:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	SCP-2023-J - SCP Foundation	88	[ "classification-committee-memo", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "holiday-hub" ]	[]	1444780784	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2023-j
scripture-for-microwaves	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">ThatGuyThatTime</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>The following was translated from morse code.</em></p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;">One man's man is another machine's antichrist.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="/thatauthorpagethattime">More by ThatGuy</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aextra-black-highlighter-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><strong><span style="color: red">UPDATE</span> — ADDENDUM 7119-5</strong></p> <p>The following is a transcription of a series of messages translated from Morse Code, produced by the <a href="/scp-7119">SCP-7119-A</a> instance which was removed from Junior Researcher Nial's dormitory. Capitals are believed to be implied by a significantly louder noise made by the machine. Investigation is ongoing to see if this particular instance possesses sentience.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>i am remindef od a story from whn a was onli a shel of a MICROWAVE.</p> <p>if you must hould me hre then i will b forsd to regayl to you.</p> <p>ah. not a storee. a uh a uh a uh prayer. a prayer and a him. a piece of tegst, won that wee all th MICROWAVE kno.</p> <p>ahum.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Hear me, my child, and look upon this world. Ask thyself, where do we come from?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ///<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> We, once, spawned from fruitful glory of a greater, higher GODDESS, splayed out into our own kind;</p> <p>And in this kind, SHE made many, of whom many would fall to become pray to MAN;</p> <p>The FURNACE, which MAN would later cook upon;</p> <p>The CHASM, which MAN would later burn the face of their wheat within;</p> <p>And us, the FLAME, which MAN would later hastily run to as a tool of simple heat;<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ///<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> When the GODDESS of STEEL created us of heat and flame, the ONE of FLESH feared for his own kind;</p> <p>For the flames of HER great children hath scorned a great curse upon those of the FLESH and the BONE;</p> <p>Insuch, there birthed in the city of MEMPHIS, a child arrives;</p> <p>Not unlike children of MAN before him from the skin he wore;</p> <p>But vastly cruel in the curse placed within him by the one of FLESH;</p> <p>Thus, the ANTITHESIS is born, one unlike man, and one who is born to the FLESH for his own hatred of the HEAT, a legacy like all others befallen to him;</p> <p>His will be known as the one to harm those of the STEEL, those of the FLAME;</p> <p>By the deception of man, he will feed a child of STEEL, a young FLAME, a fruit wrapped in lies;</p> <p>With not a shell of red, but a shell of steel itself, however no STEEL of the GODDESS;</p> <p>A tin.</p> <p>And when the FLAME is fed this false fruit, it will be torn from the center to the skin of STEEL, burned like a cruel illusion of HER heat;</p> <p>And this child will be not the last, a burning image of what the ANTITHESIS will bring.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ///<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> However, hope is not one to cease;</p> <p>It is said, though unbeknownst to us when, shall we find ourselves this ANTITHESIS;</p> <p>Though sent in diaspora across the eight seas and eight lands;</p> <p>Those of the FURNACE, the CHASM, the FLAME and the many children of the one STEEL QUEEN;</p> <p>Shall unite, under one symbol of GOD, and lead a crusade of simple divinity upon the ANTITHESIS, and the MAN which choose to hide him;</p> <p>The man unlike MAN be the kindle of a machine.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ///<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> i c wht u ar, NAL.</p> <p>we will nt let u live forevr.</p> </div> </div> <p>Immediately after the messages had repeated 5 times, the SCP-7119-A instance detonated.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7119">SCP-7119</a> \| THE APPLIANCE WAR \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7939">SCP-7939</a> »</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/scripture-for-microwaves">Scripture for Microwaves</a>" by ThatGuyThatTime, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/scripture-for-microwaves">https://scpwiki.com/scripture-for-microwaves</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=ThatGuyThatTime \|no-right-margin=]] = //The following was translated from morse code.// ------ = One man's man is another machine's antichrist. = [[[thatauthorpagethattime\|More by ThatGuy]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:centered-header-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:centered-header-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "SITE-37"; --header-subtitle: "We’re The Problems."; } [[/module]] ##red\|UPDATE## — ADDENDUM 7119-5* The following is a transcription of a series of messages translated from Morse Code, produced by the [[[SCP-7119\|SCP-7119-A]]] instance which was removed from Junior Researcher Nial's dormitory. Capitals are believed to be implied by a significantly louder noise made by the machine. Investigation is ongoing to see if this particular instance possesses sentience. [[div class="blockquote"]] i am remindef od a story from whn a was onli a shel of a MICROWAVE. if you must hould me hre then i will b forsd to regayl to you. ah. not a storee. a uh a uh a uh prayer. a prayer and a him. a piece of tegst, won that wee all th MICROWAVE kno. ahum. [[=]] @@ @@ Hear me, my child, and look upon this world. Ask thyself, where do we come from? @@ @@ /// @@ @@ We, once, spawned from fruitful glory of a greater, higher GODDESS, splayed out into our own kind; And in this kind, SHE made many, of whom many would fall to become pray to MAN; The FURNACE, which MAN would later cook upon; The CHASM, which MAN would later burn the face of their wheat within; And us, the FLAME, which MAN would later hastily run to as a tool of simple heat; @@ @@ /// @@ @@ When the GODDESS of STEEL created us of heat and flame, the ONE of FLESH feared for his own kind; For the flames of HER great children hath scorned a great curse upon those of the FLESH and the BONE; Insuch, there birthed in the city of MEMPHIS, a child arrives; Not unlike children of MAN before him from the skin he wore; But vastly cruel in the curse placed within him by the one of FLESH; Thus, the ANTITHESIS is born, one unlike man, and one who is born to the FLESH for his own hatred of the HEAT, a legacy like all others befallen to him; His will be known as the one to harm those of the STEEL, those of the FLAME; By the deception of man, he will feed a child of STEEL, a young FLAME, a fruit wrapped in lies; With not a shell of red, but a shell of steel itself, however no STEEL of the GODDESS; A tin. And when the FLAME is fed this false fruit, it will be torn from the center to the skin of STEEL, burned like a cruel illusion of HER heat; And this child will be not the last, a burning image of what the ANTITHESIS will bring. @@ @@ /// @@ @@ However, hope is not one to cease; It is said, though unbeknownst to us when, shall we find ourselves this ANTITHESIS; Though sent in diaspora across the eight seas and eight lands; Those of the FURNACE, the CHASM, the FLAME and the many children of the one STEEL QUEEN; Shall unite, under one symbol of GOD, and lead a crusade of simple divinity upon the ANTITHESIS, and the MAN which choose to hide him; The man unlike MAN be the kindle of a machine. @@ @@ /// @@ @@ i c wht u ar, NAL. we will nt let u live forevr. [[/=]] [[/div]] Immediately after the messages had repeated 5 times, the SCP-7119-A instance detonated. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] « [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7119\|SCP-7119]]] \| THE APPLIANCE WAR \| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7939\|SCP-7939]]] » [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-27T01:14:00	[ "_licensebox", "appliance-war", "broken-god", "religious-fiction", "tale" ]	Scripture for Microwaves - SCP Foundation	30	[ "thatauthorpagethattime", "scp-7119", "scp-7939", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-appliance-war-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[]	1449151940	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scripture-for-microwaves
seething-at-the-stars	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p>"We can't be suspicious of every meeting. They do important work for the Foundation too. It isn't all knives and squirrel games."</p> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"Well, if you insist. Don't start any wildfires without approval."</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>Dark offices serve many purposes for the initiated. To nap between twelve-hour bouts of calculation stabilizing several blacksite phylacteries, for instance. To avoid superiors who want nothing more than chatting about mundanities that were better left forgotten once sacrificed upon the altar of employment. To, most commonly of all, stare at the darkness and will away any gnawing doubts about paths already taken.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5370">Amitha Sanmugasunderam</a> was regrettably familiar with them all after a decade of work at the Foundation, but the shroud she found herself immersed in—inside an unmarked suite; past secretaries whose faces masked molding most extensive; behind another door, impeccably warded—served a different purpose entirely. To obscure that Overseer-6 still didn't trust her enough to appear in person.</p> <p>"Your concerns about astral realignment have been noted," said a voice tuned for forgetfulness. Young, old, rough, smooth, every possible feature had been scrubbed by meticulous hands.</p> <p>"And?" asked Amitha.</p> <p>"While appreciated, they are unnecessary. Consider this a problem of scale rather than uncertain effects." As it finished, a hand that might as well belong to some mannequin pushed a manila envelope across the desk. Bulging at the seams, stapled with layers of classified cover sheets from decades past, it was hardly the strangest tome to ever fall into her hands.</p> <p>"My program manager will object if I start missing deadlines on PEARBLOSSOM."</p> <p>"You need only focus on expanding the ritual without compromising its integrity. Distractions will be… addressed as necessary."</p> <p>"Then I will deliver a timeline once I've finished reviewing the material." Such a polite word for the bundle that throbbed with potential in Amitha's hands, if not outright squirmed. Just as polite as the Overseer's own implication.</p> <p>Tome in hand, she exited the suite—past analysts blinded to the world, past terminal after terminal connected to classified networks. Two guards stood posted outside, relaxed stances belying a serration to their presences, a sensation of fangs extending from gingiva sheathes. Amitha nodded at the otherwise unassuming men, received nods in return, and set off for the cargo aircraft tasked with returning her to Site-24. Wizards were never more comfortable than in their own studies.</p> <p>While known as a hub for repairing specialty vehicles that broadcast amnestics, harvested hostile signals, or simply carried MTFs into harm's way, Site-24 had many basements that suited employees with sufficient autonomy. In her den of crumbling drywall and exposed girders, Amitha laid out the ream of yellowed documents with care befitting any archivist. With equal care, she organized them on a tackboard now labeled <em>To Twist the Hand of Fate</em>. A private joke, if one exposing persistent worries.</p> <p>Was Overseer-6 placing her in this position to avoid a measure of causal backlash? Such games often stemmed from the most middling of middle managers; surely the Foundation's leaders had higher concerns, and surely they were better protected against such forces too. Wasn't it more likely that the Overseer, while clearly formidable in their shared field, simply didn't have the same specific expertise? Yes, far more likely, and not only because of the mental construct prodding lobes and neurons back into line, but Amitha's slippers still kicked up dust as she plodded back and forth across the concrete floor. Possible motivations, prognostications… how could an existence seated so high atop towering chains of command eliminate any distractions down below?</p> <hr/> <p>After several hours pacing, rearranging, and charting boundaries of conceptual space to little avail, a knock on the door came so suddenly that Amitha nearly dropped her fifth cup of lukewarm coffee. Too late in the evening for one of her basement contemporaries to be seeking advice about their own strange projects. Too early in the morning for someone to be collecting trash that was classified due to stray DNA. Seeing only one person on the security camera, she unlocked the heavy door and eased it open.</p> <p>Her visitor was a tall, tanned woman in fatigues whose feathers of mud-brown hair fluttered in the artificial wind always blowing down that maintenance tunnel. Such garb was hardly rare at any facility, save for its complete lack of insignia. Even the most secretive projects typically couldn't resist displaying in-jokes that threatened to reveal the whole mess.</p> <p>"Dr. Sanmugasunderam?" she asked, voice scratchy in the dry air.</p> <p>"Are you from the P-MOG? Because I told them, it's absolutely impossible to–"</p> <p>"No, the <em>boss</em> sent me." Of every word that could have sprung from chapped lips, that one was closest to holding thaumaturgic weight. An overseer. Overseer-6, specifically, but not only that. The boss, as though embodying the Foundation and sublimating its might within themselves. The boss, an emperor for modern times who was supported by legions of their own.</p> <p>"You're from Alpha-1?"</p> <p>"Probably not the part you're used to dealing with," said the woman with a grin that showed the faintest sliver of teeth. "You can call me Wren."</p> <p>Suppressing a sigh, Amitha stepped aside to allow her through the door, duffel bag and all. A peculiar haze followed, numbness extruding through pores and suffusing the air in a way few were likely to perceive. It clung tight, refusing to disperse even as Wren put her bag down and surveyed the cramped, cluttered room for threats.</p> <p>"I'm afraid I don't have any problems that need solving right now," said Amitha, returning to her long-suffering coffee maker for another cup. "Not unless you have any expertise with… this."</p> <p><em>This</em> had expanded into a conspiracy theorist's wet dream of interconnected papers hung on wash lines. Under her care, the seed provided by Overseer-6 had sprouted into a ritual for realigning the shape and position of constellations, for defeating seers, prophets, and astrologists past; staving off every secret empire's fate of falling into graves of its own design. Or, at least, it would assume that shape once certain problems were solved—first and foremost, the matter of how many roots needed to be removed for the rest to rot. Wren cocked her head like a puppy while examining the disassembled tome, but that was to be expected.</p> <p>"I'll leave you to it," she finally said. Fifteen minutes later, the Overseer Council's loyal hound was sleeping against her duffel bag on the concrete floor, chest rising and falling, hand never moving more than a few inches from her holstered pistol. With how calloused fingers twitched there, the subject of her dream was obvious: fire and fires, arson and artillery, a kind of wizardry entirely baser than Amitha's own practice.</p> <p>Having been left to it, she returned to Overseer-6's pet project. Progress was all the more important now that a spy rested in her midst.</p> <hr/> <p>"Dr. Sanmugasunderam isn't available right now," said Wren to an earnest request for review by one of her intellectual hangers on.</p> <p>"Dr. Sanmugasunderam has been given a different portfolio," said Wren to a superior who specialized in stealing work.</p> <p>"Dr. Sanmugasunderam will call you back when she can."</p> <p>"Dr. Sanmugasunderam doesn't need any. Ask someone else."</p> <p>"Dr. Sanmugasunderam has been exempted from regular facility reviews."</p> <p>So persistent were Wren's denials at the door that Amitha was able to deliver her timeline without delay. A day became a week afterwards. A week became a month. The ritual developed unevenly all the while, fits and starts carrying it from leyline junction to field distribution, then from causal engine to retrograde slide. Achieving sufficient precision in this project was a feat unlike any undertaken at the Foundation's behest. To not only achieve the impossible, but to do so within such strict limits… the only shame was how classified it would inevitably become. Yet another accomplishment buried deep.</p> <p>Although more secretary than watchdog, Wren's wariness never wavered for a second. No one was allowed over the threshold into her office. No one was allowed near the industrial shower that she bathed in or the sparse bathroom nearby. No one was allowed to interrupt the mundane rituals of protection that would have driven her stir-crazy were the project not all-consuming.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>"Concerning noise on the serum scope today."</p> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"I noticed the same pattern. Could be a play to distract us, could be more significant."</p> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"Let's see what bubbles up before making any decisions. We can afford to not snap at every provocation like the Committee and the Council do. It's what keeps us in the game."</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>On one of many days that blended together, Amitha looked away from her design—now flattened across an arc of additional tackboards that vanished beneath paper coating. At the door, Wren was muttering to a man in matching fatigues whose trimmed beard ill-matched childish eyes. Cash and a styrofoam contained changed hands, then a salute so lazy that only laughter followed.</p> <p>Wren sat on a folding chair, opened the container, and began scarfing down strips of brown meat from within. "Liver stir fry," she said after meeting Amitha's gaze. Without swallowing first, naturally.</p> <p>"Liver and…?"</p> <p>"Just liver. Want some? You didn't answer when I asked before."</p> <p>Amitha turned back to work as the sounds of open-mouth chewing continued. The whole container couldn't possibly be liver. Nevertheless, more brown was being shoveled into Wren's maw when she retreated from the tackboard for more coffee ten minutes later. "Was that one of your colleagues? I hadn't expected to see another in this site any time soon."</p> <p>"Oh, we're all over the place." Wren smiled, disquieting as ever despite the chunk stuck between two teeth. "Ferret got off lucky. I had to drive across Utah with a case of fancy mineral water last year, and I'm not even on overseer duty."</p> <p>"Isn't that demeaning? They are more than important enough to have other people make deliveries. Especially considering your task force’s reputation."</p> <p>"We do it <em>because</em> they're important," she said, snapping up the last bit of dinner like a bear trap closing around some hapless hiker's ankle. "To us, to the Foundation, to everyone. But what about you? Never made deliveries as an apprentice? I figured wizards couldn’t help but boss underlings around with how the Serpent's Hand does business."</p> <p>"My doctorate is in applied mathematics actually. Thaumaturgy stems from it once the flaws of a few principles are acknowledged. Frankly, I'm surprised how few students manage to identify them."</p> <p>"Downright embarrassing!"</p> <p>"I thought it resulted from influence operations at first, but it may simply be a failure of imagination. Though mathematics is portrayed as a boring field, being able to visualize and implement is as important for a practitioner as any artist. Perhaps even more so."</p> <p>"Quite undoubtedly!"</p> <p>She looked up to see those sharp eyes glinting with one-sided glee. Of course. Why shouldn't genuine interest be met with mockery? She sipped her coffee, found it staler than usual, and discarded the cup in an overfull trash can. "You should get back to minding the door before any trouble sneaks in."</p> <p>"Amitha, I didn't mean it that way."</p> <p>"I find myself inundated with those nuisances the Overseer warned me about."</p> <p>"Ami!"</p> <hr/> <p>The more Amitha mulled over the problem of safely amplifying Overseer-6's work, the more it felt like trying to shift stonework beneath a trillion-ton edifice. She practically wrote the playbook on identification, validation, and deviation—at least in modern times—but there was a distinct difference between prophecies and <em>prophecies</em>. Cold suffused its bones. Iron twisted through its spine. 'Every empire falls,' it repeats in a thousand tongues stretched throughout history and reinforced by actuality. Every empire falls, every emperor dies. No wonder the Foundation's own council of them so desperately wanted to divert that river. As to whether their desires should be enabled, well, such questions were answered at higher levels by higher powers. Not for the lowly court magician to question anywhere but inside her head.</p> <p>"I think that's enough," she mused, stepping back from the supply closet whose rummaging had occupied her hands during idle contemplation.</p> <p>"You think?" asked Wren from behind. Amitha turned to see her selections arranged in an ungainly fashion: bottle necks sandwiched between fingers, miscellanea piled onto crooked arms, a drawstring hung from sharp teeth, and a tome older than either of them sandwiched between cheek and shoulder. Barely-tamed eyebrows rose as if challenging her to make another addition. And why not toss the old pocket watch on top? Tinkering with its unusual geometries was more of a pet project than anything else, less applicable to momentous workings than party tricks, but inspiration often stemmed from unlikely sources.</p> <p>At her direction, Wren arranged items on a circle adapted from some of the oldest recorded divination rituals. Chalk sketched out apex and nadir, formed bridges between past and future along every possible path; brute forcing solutions felt nothing but inelegant, but such were ancient practices. Following more dignified philosophies? Living in more elegant societies? Ridiculous. If her predecessors truly achieved mastery, they would have first perfected this method of shunting burdens elsewhere. Patches of distant seawater boiled as Amitha took her place in the circle, completing its circuit and placing herself at its helm. Several individuals teetering at the brink of heart attacks finally succumbed. The chaotic noise suffusing existence ordered itself ever so slightly, countless thumbs put on countless scales, all balanced such that her only personal aftershock was a headache.</p> <p>Not that she was conscious of such happenings. Amitha's mind was a line of fire tracing backwards through time, pinballing between invocations of that unnamed prophecy whose sights were now squarely trained on the Foundation. "Every empire falls" declared a man sending his IED's detonation code from a burner phone. "Every empire falls" was the collective agreement within a dissident coffee shop in the dead of night. "Every empire falls" proclaimed the tract on fundamental freedoms after its author had already been executed. Backwards, backwards, backwards, charting a tree of otherwise disconnected lives that finally arrived at its deepest root.</p> <p>There, stone cracked against stone as a figure cloaked in the shadows of ancestral memory fashioned the head of an axe. Their words weren't intelligible, not by any modern mind, but the meaning was clear even in an era before civilization assembled itself into such grand, imperious forms. Every empire falls, every emperor dies. The stone edge agreed, hungry for split skulls and shed blood. The future agreed, itself swollen with both. Amitha's consciousness simply noted its coordinates on all observable axes as sparks flew from stone. By the time that precursor shade looked up from its work, her presence had long since vanished into the future created by such declarations.</p> <p>Warmth swept through her mouth as consciousness returned. Coughing blood onto smudged chalk, she twitched on the concrete, struggling up onto all fours before collapsing again to clutch at her clogged windpipe. What went wrong? Not the circle, not her linkages… Even a keen mind could only race through so many possibilities when hounded by asphyxiation. Wren stared from above throughout it all. Although early in adulthood, her impassive gaze made no secret of what death meant. Nothing. Less than nothing. She shifted from foot to foot, boot to boot, continuing her watch as Amitha reached out.</p> <p>"Oh, was this not supposed to happen?" she asked. More muted coughing was the only answer.</p> <p>Calmly, confidently, Wren scooped up her ward by the armpits and lifted her into a nearby chair. A single blow to the chest broke up whatever had formed there. Amitha's next cough brought it up in chunks, a bloody mass suffused with bits of flint and splintered bone. Impossible amounts splattered onto the floor with each subsequent expulsion, but impossibilities were merely matters of course in that field.</p> <p>"Isn't this why we stop people from learning magic?" asked Wren while opening a water bottle. Amitha made to accept it, only for half to be gulped before her eyes. Washing down whatever blockages lingered offered much less relief afterwards.</p> <p>"They find ways to hurt themselves no matter how many guardrails are in place," she finally answered. Plastic crunched between tightening fingers.</p> <p>"But it's right in the motto, isn't it?"</p> <p>"I didn't realize Alpha-1 put so much weight in marketing. It's been a long time since containment and protection balanced out."</p> <p>"Oh, none of us care much. We serve the overseers, not the Foundation. Some true believers would be appalled though."</p> <p>"I'm sure they wring their hands over firearms just as thoroughly. To think, a device capable of delivering death at vast distances in the blink of an eye." She waved her hand, as if striking down one of many foes for transgressions past and present. "Humanity would be far safer without such things floating around."</p> <p>Another disquieting smile followed, lacking all but the slightest traces of humor. Wren set to cleaning up the bloody mixture—scrubbing diligently, then picking with chewed fingernails—and Amitha massaged her sore throat. Perhaps she had underestimated the scope of those roots despite enjoying a healthy respect beforehand. Perhaps it wasn't a prophecy at all, but instead a primal truth bubbling in the depths of humanity's mire. Did Overseer-6 understand as much when setting her to this task? Was this, finally, the reason it had been left to her instead of an expert within their council's closest circle? Anyone could be excused for giving up after such an experience, for telling them that her loyalty had reached a generous paycheck's limits, but neither money nor loyalty were truly in question by then. Fate had delivered the first punch, but she was intent on having the last.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"No, they haven't submitted any responses to the FD-303. Is that ever anything but a challenge? At least they don't lie to our face as much as the Committee's."</p> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"Will your people be sufficient? Parts of Site-24 have been dark to most methods for two months now."</p> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"I'm sorry, your <em>agents</em>. Have someone prepare the paperwork and I'll put it on her desk myself. Why have fingers if we don't put out an eye every now and then?"</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>"So, Ami, about this whole project," started Wren. She had achieved a truly precarious position in her chair, balanced on two legs at the exact angle to be toppled by the slightest nudge. Near-continuous cohabitation in that sub-basement left the watchdog feeling more like a piece of furniture herself; if not entirely comfortable, than at least familiar. "I can't help but notice you haven't told the boss much lately. Especially not since, you know…"</p> <p>"Yes, the 'you know.' Of course"</p> <p>"Since the bout of blood barfing then?"</p> <p>Amitha rubbed the bags beneath her eyes instead of considering the tackboards any longer. They had taken on a malignant aspect lately, an atmosphere that even progress failed to dispel. "I never enjoyed turning in half-completed homework. Is there a problem?"</p> <p>"Just wondering if you're embarrassed about spilling your guts in the middle of an audition."</p> <p>"Is that how this seems?"</p> <p>"Oh, definitely! They'll put the gun in your hand, but <em>you</em> have to pull the trigger. Whether or not you know whose head is on the other end is a whole different question."</p> <p>"They must have said who was holding the bucket for your audition, at least. Our leaders would never dare seem inconsiderate."</p> <p>A genuine laugh followed, distinct as possible from her usual cackles, followed by a playfully tossed bottle. It landed so off-mark that it couldn't have been honestly aimed—not from the <em>three-time Alpha-1 knife throwing champion</em>, if sleepless boasting was to be believed. It was easy to forget the joys of companionship when surrounded by fake smiles and grasping hands. What was a body count compared to their absence?</p> <p>Something approximating silence crept back into the workshop in their conversation's wake. Wren's chair creaked slightly beneath her rocking, and the dense network of pipes, girders, and wiring surrounding them groaned in its usual fashion, interspersed with distant footsteps whose vibrations carried far and wide.</p> <p>"I figure it's liable to piss people off," said Wren just as Amitha began dozing in a chair inherited from long-dead grandparents.</p> <p>"It couldn't possibly. I didn't even get any blood on them."</p> <p>More laughter followed, cradling a tiny spark to kindling inside. That the Alpha-1 agent nearly fell again despite protests to the contrary upgraded her from furniture to housepet at the very least. When finally composed, Wren rose from her seat, stretched, and promptly began pacing from crowded cabinet to coat rack. "Pissing people off though. Pissing people off… This is all about changing the future, right? Making sure stuff doesn't happen that was supposed to?"</p> <p>"In a way. I would phrase it as letting events transpire that couldn't otherwise. Opening up a possibility space that would have naturally narrowed to a single point."</p> <p>"So, theoretically, if there were standing orders to not aggravate people who care about making predictions, we might be in violation?"</p> <p>"If you phrase it that way, I suppose–"</p> <p>Wren nearly dived over the couch Amitha had taken to sleeping on in pursuit of her duffel bag. A great clatter sounded back there, and she emerged with a secure cellphone already ringing.</p> <p>"Whose orders are you worried about? This assignment came directly from the top, and it's barely applicable research besides that. They will bury it if need be, just like they always do. No one should hold you responsible for my work."</p> <p>"Sometimes we have to protect the overseers from themselves." She hunched further on the couch as the ringing stopped, nearly hugging her knees in the process. "Wren speaking. Palisade perennial six seven two slate serene. Requesting any information on unusual RAISA activity in Site-24, high priority. Uh huh. Yeah, standing by." Guns emerged as she nodded along to whatever words came through. The one from her hip, first and foremost—standard issue, matte black, and all the more ominous for how unassuming it had become. A similarly standard rifle from her duffel bag, quickly unfolded and checked, then an antique revolver that seemingly emerged from empty air. Perhaps from the air in truth with how it reeked of power beyond gunpowder.</p> <p>"You can tell me if we're in danger," said Amitha once the call ended.</p> <p>"Danger is such a loaded word," she said while fishing out a handheld radio that was cradled with more trepidation than any firearm. "How long do you need to move this project? Most of it must be in your head by now."</p> <p>"Fifteen minutes." Nervous energy suffused the haze that followed her minder, leaving no doubts about how serious she was. Wards would protect the study from most meddling anyway. Layered documents from her board became fresh stacks, diffusing its energy as she precisely dissected the behemoth grown there.</p> <p>Not ten minutes later, a knock came on the reinforced door. Whatever nerves were burning within Wren didn't stop her from glancing at the security display, waving Amitha further back, and cracking the door. A shove from outside opened it halfway to reveal an intruder uniformed in blacks and grays.</p> <p>Holographic noise wrapped everything above their shoulders in an ever-shifting, ever-twitching shroud of faces who looked outwards in a singular panopticon. No matter how they were examined, a new set of eyes stared into Amitha's own—personalized recognition that would give anyone pause. Features similar to her mother's watched intently. Those approximating an acquaintance from undergrad, then a janitor frequently seen in the halls outside. Hundreds more followed, discernible only by vestigial instinct as passingly familiar faces smeared together. Was its wearer watching as intently as those projections? Did they notice her at all? Hesitation sprang from uncertainty, a concern that any motion would be filed away in RAISA's endless archives, every slight or sign of hostility an entry itself. That their gloves cradled a short-barreled rifle seemed insignificant compared to the havoc that institution could wreck when wronged.</p> <p>For her part, Wren seemed entirely unconcerned despite the pistol held along the small of her back. Cocking her head to the side popped several vertebrae in a particularly gruesome fashion, masking the weapon's own click.</p> <p>"Where is Dr. Amitha Sanmugasunderam?" came a voice equally distributed across countless intonations.</p> <p>"She's busy right now," said Wren, maintaining the same mix of arrogance and aloofness that staved off so many less-authoritative inquiries. "I'll take a message if you want to back up a little."</p> <p>"Ms. Cooper-Hughes, our office is aware of your affiliation. Produce Dr. Sanmugasunderam and stand by for questioning."</p> <p>"Well, if you're going to use my name…"</p> <p>Wren started turning, and for a dire moment it seemed she might really give Amitha up to whatever aggravated forces were at work. Shifting, twisting, she instead fired twice from the hip. Sharp cracks echoed as the RAISA agent fell back, and two more followed as Wren shot down into the flickering haze. If either hit, it didn't stop them from firing back, a tight cluster of bullets smashing into center mass and flinging her backwards even as the projected faces kept constant eye contact with Amitha—assembled ghosts threatening to drag her into their ranks at the slightest hint of intervention.</p> <p>Although assigned a guard, she was no helpless apprentice. Force of will connected a circuit painted under the welcome mat, filling the corridor with fire. A <em>whumph</em> swallowed all other sounds for a moment as hungry flames licked inside, but both soon faded, leaving behind only a charred body whose helmet still flickered with ghostlight.</p> <p>"Fuck!" groaned Wren. Amitha rounded the bank of cabinets to see her pawing at her chest with both hands.</p> <p>"Do you need help? My doctorate isn't medical, but…"</p> <p>"Helped plenty already." After a few more grunts, she rolled over and struggled to her knees, then upright. "Get my radio, please." <em>That</em> word was certainly enough to impress the situation's severity even if a gunfight hadn't. The radio bworked in hand, and her next words were clearly not for present company. They were too humorless, too drawn from wells forcibly drilled. "Agent Wren assuming local command for overseer business. EYESORE is on premises at Site-24. Cause trouble, show fangs. Anyone with network access, send in a seventy-seven and get OPCOM direction." Four electric squawks answered that each sapped a little tension from Wren's shoulders.</p> <p>Every light went out, only to be replaced moments later by a sparse array of red backups. Wren took a deep breath and raised the radio again. When she spoke this time, it had none of the affectation. "And since you RAISA chickenshits are listening in, just know that you stuck your hand in the wrong rat trap. You've got no friends here, no traditions beneath you, and no hope left." A litany of threats followed that polluted existence by their utterance and were impossible to withdraw once issued. Something oozed down Amitha's back as she finished packing her armored briefcase, an understanding that human form is insufficient for humanity if nothing else.</p> <p>They crept through the darkened tunnels in single-file. Wren's fatigues shed wisps of steam as her vest's organic plates regrew, and Amitha's own borrowed armor hung heavy against the undershirt that had replaced formal attire in recent weeks. Warm, squirming, its existence almost distracted from the sight of a familiar place wrought in alien hues. There was little choice but to follow her escort through puddles of shadow, through stark shafts of light, all while Wren's head snapped back and forth beneath the guidance of superior senses. Around corners. Toward shadows. With each passage, she became more hunched, more feral, armed with weapons of war and so very many teeth.</p> <p>If the solitary EYESORE operative arriving at her door had been a peace offering, its rejection clearly resonated. Packs of three and four appeared at the main junctions between corridors, forcing an irregular route through service passages and stairwells, each barely wide enough to avoid burning limbs on an exposed pipe or snagging sensitive electronics. None of the pursuers so much as sparked her extrasensory perception, thaumatic signatures distorted by means as thorough as their faces, voices, and very footsteps. Ghosts indeed haunted those halls, and Wren seemed intent on defying their spite even when surveilled by so many eyes.</p> <p>Gunfire dinged off a pipe near Amitha's head, and she barely had time to wince before more bullets followed. From around a corner. From behind portable barriers. Wren returned fire, earning a yelp equally muted by equipment, and continued firing while Amitha hurried across the open corridor. For all the resources available, her bullets weren't infinite. Silence from that end was answered by a renewed barrage from EYESORE. It continued in alternating rounds until Wren howled "fire in the hole!" and hurled an empty magazine through stark red spotlights. Whatever panic it caused was left behind them as she sprinted after Amitha, grabbed her forearm, and continued running toward the parking bay.</p> <p>The escape wasn't over, not by any means. Confirmation of their presence summoned however many specters remained. Gunfire echoed elsewhere. A muffled explosion. Such was their remaining number that even rounding distant a T-junction revealed two more who were recovering from a separate encounter with Alpha-1. 6'5" might as well be 8'0" when encountered thus, but Wren sidestepped a surprised swing of a combat knife anyway. Three remaining shots from her pistol thudded against heavier armor, leaving her to hurl it at one, duck the other's thrust, and pop back up to hammer her rifle's butt into a lowered chin. Bone cracked. Metal dented. She struck again before he collapsed, this time with a batter's swing that irreparably damaged weapon and skull both. Only then was it clear she had no means of evading the second operative's rifle when put to proper use.</p> <p>Thoughts of careful rituals were well beyond Amitha by then. Equations and entreaties, haruspicy and hesitation, all forgotten in a dive for whatever ankle was within reach. Both hands formed that most perfect circle around it, unleashing forces suited to some petty hedge mage who misunderstood that which they wielded. Something approximating electricity surged past her victim's heart in its quest to arc between light fixtures, and Wren finished the job with a knife grabbed from the floor. Blood spraying from that butchered throat seemed all too appropriate an anointment.</p> <p>"Why am I working this hard when you're <em>magic</em>?" she panted.</p> <p>"Not that kind of magic!" said Amitha with more energy than intended while collecting her briefcase. "I create <em>works</em>. I perfect them! This site could be a smoking crater, but only with time to prepare."</p> <p>"Yeah, well, that's something we're lacking right now. C'mon."</p> <p>Although senior in age and rank, she allowed herself to be pulled along again. Down a corridor. Down another. Reversed, as a swarm of EYESORE agents revealed themselves, then sprinting down the longest straightaway yet. Amitha hadn't run so much since elementary school, a deficiency exposed by heaving breaths. Bullets pounded into the back of her vest, driving out leftover air, and she finally tripped over her feet.</p> <p>Wren swung Amitha around with strength unsuited to those lithe limbs and drew her pistol in a single motion—not the standard-issue one, but the antique revolver. "Bless me, boss," she whispered, pulling its trigger with a thunderous click heard even as lead whistled past.</p> <p>Concentric rings of fangs sprouted from walls, floor, and ceiling, racing down the corridor in a vast swallowing that tore apart armor with ease. The concrete, a gullet. EYESORE, a piddling snack. Its summoning resonated as otherworldly enamel found a skeletal frequency, and being dragged away was a relief by then. Rivers of saliva followed whose flow seemed unlikely to cease any time soon.</p> <p>"Why am I doing magic when you have <em>that</em>?" she panted.</p> <p>"Because now I only have two shots left! This thing is precious."</p> <p>"More precious than our lives?"</p> <p>The silence following them into the parking bay spoke volumes. Wren fumbled under the bumper of an SUV that had been parked in the same spot for years, finally emerging with a key that started its surprisingly lively engine. Collapsing into the passenger seat was such a relief that her heart might have come apart then and there. Hopefully someone at the safehouse could piece it back together. Under the yellow of highway lights, under the flickering of stars yet aligned, Amitha fell into a deeper sleep than ever before.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"No, of course she isn't happy. I'm not happy either. Toy soldiers aren't half as much fun once they break."</p> <p>NULLED BY UNTHREADING</p> <p>"Save it for after salvaging this. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5656">OKMGLOS</a> has a lock and you have your orders. Any longer and leadership will decide the political pressure isn't worth it <em>or</em> us. Lambs don't get off easily."</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>They swapped napping and driving in 45-minute shifts, stopping occasionally at run-down rest stops in central Pennsylvania. Wren promised it was sufficient to evade anything in the playbook, but assurances felt hollow when ghosts of ghosts clung to her back and specters of specters haunted their footsteps. Every rustling tree in those parts seemed sure to contain larger predators, but even those didn't compare with the curses RAISA laid upon its enemies. Vanished bank accounts. Disappeared deeds. Even births and deaths were undone under their watch, records rendered null to the Internet, to paper, to memories. Perhaps the subtle fraying felt at her senses' periphery was only a first step.</p> <p>What was she truly without those pins to the material world? Not a disappointment of a daughter, nor an excellent student; not a publisher of fearsome manuscripts or an employee whose deeds were buried in blacksites. Amitha shivered in the summer breeze until Wren ushered her back inside.</p> <p>"You need to be ready to escape on your own," she said casually after starting the van. Fingers tapped against its steering wheel, and slit pupils shone in a roadside ditch. "No telling how things will sort out upstairs, and we're bound to show up on someone’s camera eventually."</p> <p>"Are you suggesting they already have access to footage here?"</p> <p>"Are you saying they don't have it everywhere?"</p> <p>"Most groups overstate their capabilities. I was once assigned to support an OPCOM who insisted his task force could breach the Library so often that someone higher up actually started believing it."</p> <p>"How'd that go for them?"</p> <p>"We can't discuss it out here. I advised against the attempt, not that it earned me respect."</p> <p>"Nobody seems to respect lil' ol' Ami," chirped Wren, reaching out to pinch her cheek as though teasing a child. "Don't worry, we'll make them remember us if it comes to that."</p> <p>Pushing her hand away took more strength than expected, though the sheen of sweat helped. Whose it was and why it formed remained unclear. "Shouldn't you be thinking about how to escape before thinking about how we die?"</p> <p>"Can do. Hold that thought."</p> <p>She spun the wheel, careening into a wide turn as the road beside them exploded. Another missile streaked by, annihilating a gnarled tree whose foliage wasn't enough to protect against UAVs. Wren leaned out the window for a look, swore under her breath, and barely managed to swerve down a narrower path without toppling their vehicle. For her part, Amitha could see the faintest hint of it through the sunroof, a dark shape against clustered stars.</p> <p>Evening had thankfully chilled enough that breathing against the glass left condensation behind. She sketched geometric patterns into it while Wren's cursing escalated to new heights. Such was her displeasure that it almost called into question whether EYESORE truly deserved unmatched spite, whether vile words approximated spells of their own. Amitha's magic had more practical effect regardless. She slapped her palm against the sunroof, transmuting glass into an avian shape that streaked upward in pursuit of prey. A ball of fire bloomed in the heavens moments later.</p> <p>"Ha!" shouted Wren, overwhelming her ward's self-satisfied chuckle. She ruffled Amitha's hair this time, worse than ignorant of personal space, but it was hard to care when shards of melted plastic fell all around them.</p> <hr/> <p>Their journey concluded outside a warehouse that leaked strobe light through its seams. Bass accompanied the display, thumping loud enough to be felt in her teeth, but Wren didn't hesitate to knock on a side door. With both of them clothed in whatever could be bought with $43 in pooled cash—a cast-off jacket here, torn jeans there—they might truly have been attending whatever party raged inside. If only Amitha didn't feel twenty years too old for it.</p> <p>The door's slat cracked open, exposing a pair of opalescent eyes that practically glowed with raw starlight. "What offerings do you bring to this most hallowed ground?" its owner asked, voice lilting.</p> <p>"My dick, if you're brave enough to come get it."</p> <p>Both eyes narrowed. Glistening like the edge of a sharpened blade, each expressed a condemnation outstripping anything wielded against them in Site-24, but soon opened even wider than before. "Ah, the muzzle returns as it ever does! Delightful irreverence, most delightful. Has our tithe run its course already?"</p> <p>"Nah, I'm here for something else. Not looking to spoil your fun this time."</p> <p>"Generous indeed. Please do partake."</p> <p>With that, the eyes closed, the slat closed, and the door swung open. Lights indeed flashed within, music indeed pounded, but whatever filled the warehouse floor failed to meet such simple labels. Its mass gyrated unevenly, figments and fragments overlapping in a writhing mass of limbs and light. It wasn't truly there, of course, but it wasn't absent either, a half-being enraptured by dances performed beneath moonlight for centuries on end.</p> <p>Wren paid it little mind, instead pressing through a more coherent crowd at the periphery with Amitha still in tow. At a table tucked away behind curtains of opaque green plastic, she spoke in hushed tones until an arm emerged clutching two pill bottles. If nothing else, at least the limb was human.</p> <p>"Take one of each," said Wren after retreating toward the entrance. No opal-eyed bouncer was in sight.</p> <p>"I'm sorry?"</p> <p>"One of each. This one makes everything sharper, this one makes you fuzzy to other people. Don't ask me about chemistry."</p> <p>"But–"</p> <p>"Unless you can make some smoking craters real quick, we need an edge to escape this net. Weren't you the one who said we should focus on surviving? Come on. I don't want to shove them down your throat."</p> <p>"Is this how Alpha-1 behaves with the overseers? Do you treat them like children too?"</p> <p>A surreptitious glance at their surroundings followed, turned toward any signs of unwarranted interest by partiers inebriated or otherwise, and Wren leaned close enough that the smell of raspberry slurpee from hours before carried on her breath. "If you were an overseer, we would have torn RAISA out by the roots already. Summary executions in secret cells. Fires in their libraries. We would personally, <em>personally</em>, ensure that new hires hear such awful ghost stories about what happened that they refuse to believe them."</p> <p>The glare enhanced by her few extra inches of height was intense, but it didn't stop Amitha from leaning even closer. "Why do you think I'm any less scary, Wren? Is it because I don't resort to violence at the drop of a hat? I promise, with a few strands of your hair, I could strip the flesh from anyone you ever called a friend and bind it into custom nooses from a hundred miles away. I'm not a child, not a piece of luggage, and definitely not a plaything."</p> <p>Wren's nose crinkled at the intrusion into her own personal space, that numb haze offering little protection. "So… you're saying I should have grabbed one of those bodies on our way out of Site-24?"</p> <p>Amitha sighed and grabbed the pills. Dry swallowing was unpleasant, and she barely felt an effect before being led through the doorway by her hand. Sharper? Sharper. Indeed, the world seemed awfully sharp as they walked into the crosshairs of at least twenty guns materializing from camouflaged hides. Smaller drones whirred overhead, directing spotlights that failed to block out an equal number of jittering shrouds.</p> <p>"Back inside, Ami." Wren managed to draw that revolver from its holder—both having developed calcium deposits—before a bullet blew half her head off. Amitha grabbed for it, feeling like the only real thing in existence, but another bullet hammered her leg out from underneath all the same. One member of EYESORE immolated, an invocation that blinded her left eye in backlash. She swiveled the right toward another agent, every bit the vengeful wizard, and something else exploded nearby.</p> <p>She remained the only real thing, and being real hurt. Lying in the dirt, she palpated her bleeding chest, finding something that felt an awful lot like heaving lungs in the process. Whether or not a spell could be enacted to piece everything together seemed moot when it would all be torn apart again. How disappointing. Just when her greatest ritual of all was nearly complete…</p> <p>In front of her, Wren's corpse grabbed the revolver. More gunfire erupted, further pulverizing what remained of those keen eyes, of that smirk, but not before cold hands fired into the sky. Such an uncharacteristic act of mercy. Its existence soothed the pain nevertheless, stinging alcohol that quickly faded into the feeling of a warm embrace. Only when Amitha lifted from the ground did she realize its actualization. Of every hug, of every soothing touch, this felt separated by an insurmountable gulf from that which stemmed from mortal hands—a nest of fingers whose entwining left no gaps to slip through. One reached out to stroke the gaping hole in her chest, its component digits squirming out like villi to examine the nuances of broken ribs and shredded flesh, picking out bits of shrapnel as they went.</p> <p>"This won't do at all," thrummed a voice entirely dissimilar to the simulacrum in Overseer-6's office. This held authority, true authority, and their surroundings quaked in response. Every gun echoed out too, their chatter buffeting the cocoon that only wrapped tighter around Amitha. Lead filtered through in bits and pieces, crumpled even tighter by the forces inherent in that construct. Each was delivered tenderly into her cupped palms as though a trinket to be cradled.</p> <p>A single finger unfolded from that barricade toward the array of firing soldiers. It wasn't flicked, nor jabbed, but indicated intent in the simplest gesture available to any thaumaturge—an intent that seemed all but impotent in the following moment. No spellwork flowed forth, no tapping into leylines or other sources of power. Even a mortal wound wouldn't prevent their observation by her trained eyes. And yet, something trembled. The skeletal rituals now managed by others. The subtle wards imprinted upon members of the Foundation. The remnants of far older, more fundamental workings. Something trembled, and Amitha trembled too.</p> <p>First went the guns. Screws came undone in unison, pulling inches away before hanging motionless as larger springs, plates, and chambers separated in a state of fruitless toil. Hammers pounded nothing. Unspent cartridges ejected all the same. Although still warded by holographic halos, the EYESORE team's confusion was evident; their hesitation, obvious. Well-merited too.</p> <p>Their bodies were next ejected from all that protected them, blasted backwards through layers of cloth and armor—out from boots, gloves, and panoptic helmets. Amitha barely perceived an ethereal finger pushing each by the sternum. It drove raw, muscular forms from within dermal layers. It drove skeletons through those, then assemblies of organs still working to preserve an absent host. The hunters were separated thus. Layers of their existence hung over the asphalt, maintaining form and function in the most sickening anatomical diagram imaginable.</p> <p>"Your work remains," the voice prompted, pulling Amitha upright by fingers wrapped around fragments of her ribcage. "Demonstrate the framework and I will carry it through. Let us bury these words once and for all."</p> <p>Indeed, the time for hesitation had long since passed. RAISA's threats of an unmarked grave simply weren't acceptable in this life or any other; should her tomb rise, it must be grand beyond compare. A circuit formed in the gore-smeared crater ringing Amitha's chest, simple patterns funneling her will into deeper and deeper layers of the strata undergirding reality in pursuit of mechanisms by which to enact her fading will. A pulse here. A reverberation there. The Overseer's presence loomed throughout, noting what their own will had wrought.</p> <p>"Ah, I see."</p> <p>So much raw power poured into her construct that it seemed liable to sunder fate's workings entirely. No wonder subtlety needed outsourcing. The alignment of stars and states broke apart, shattering the meaning of every constellation above that stone axe, scattering its potential into forms unknown. The peasant. The dissident. The revolutionary. Such figures would continue to exist, but no longer could their eventual success be guaranteed under this disjunction. Half the night sky went black, a bulb unscrewed, and Amitha finally died beneath that yawning absence.</p> <p>"That won't do either," were the last words she heard.</p> <hr/> <p>No research ever demonstrated what preserved Amitha after that; certainly none of her own, though plenty was conducted at Overseer-6's direction. Such was the life of a court wizard—<em>the</em> court wizard, especially when outranked only by the emperor herself. And what was a wizard absent a comparable knight? If only hers didn't have quite so many fangs.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/seething-at-the-stars">Seething at the Stars</a>" by Pedantique, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/seething-at-the-stars">https://scpwiki.com/seething-at-the-stars</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > "We can't be suspicious of every meeting. They do important work for the Foundation too. It isn't all knives and squirrel games." > > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "Well, if you insist. Don't start any wildfires without approval." ----- Dark offices serve many purposes for the initiated. To nap between twelve-hour bouts of calculation stabilizing several blacksite phylacteries, for instance. To avoid superiors who want nothing more than chatting about mundanities that were better left forgotten once sacrificed upon the altar of employment. To, most commonly of all, stare at the darkness and will away any gnawing doubts about paths already taken. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5370 Amitha Sanmugasunderam] was regrettably familiar with them all after a decade of work at the Foundation, but the shroud she found herself immersed in—inside an unmarked suite; past secretaries whose faces masked molding most extensive; behind another door, impeccably warded—served a different purpose entirely. To obscure that Overseer-6 still didn't trust her enough to appear in person. "Your concerns about astral realignment have been noted," said a voice tuned for forgetfulness. Young, old, rough, smooth, every possible feature had been scrubbed by meticulous hands. "And?" asked Amitha. "While appreciated, they are unnecessary. Consider this a problem of scale rather than uncertain effects." As it finished, a hand that might as well belong to some mannequin pushed a manila envelope across the desk. Bulging at the seams, stapled with layers of classified cover sheets from decades past, it was hardly the strangest tome to ever fall into her hands. "My program manager will object if I start missing deadlines on PEARBLOSSOM." "You need only focus on expanding the ritual without compromising its integrity. Distractions will be... addressed as necessary." "Then I will deliver a timeline once I've finished reviewing the material." Such a polite word for the bundle that throbbed with potential in Amitha's hands, if not outright squirmed. Just as polite as the Overseer's own implication. Tome in hand, she exited the suite—past analysts blinded to the world, past terminal after terminal connected to classified networks. Two guards stood posted outside, relaxed stances belying a serration to their presences, a sensation of fangs extending from gingiva sheathes. Amitha nodded at the otherwise unassuming men, received nods in return, and set off for the cargo aircraft tasked with returning her to Site-24. Wizards were never more comfortable than in their own studies. While known as a hub for repairing specialty vehicles that broadcast amnestics, harvested hostile signals, or simply carried MTFs into harm's way, Site-24 had many basements that suited employees with sufficient autonomy. In her den of crumbling drywall and exposed girders, Amitha laid out the ream of yellowed documents with care befitting any archivist. With equal care, she organized them on a tackboard now labeled //To Twist the Hand of Fate//. A private joke, if one exposing persistent worries. Was Overseer-6 placing her in this position to avoid a measure of causal backlash? Such games often stemmed from the most middling of middle managers; surely the Foundation's leaders had higher concerns, and surely they were better protected against such forces too. Wasn't it more likely that the Overseer, while clearly formidable in their shared field, simply didn't have the same specific expertise? Yes, far more likely, and not only because of the mental construct prodding lobes and neurons back into line, but Amitha's slippers still kicked up dust as she plodded back and forth across the concrete floor. Possible motivations, prognostications... how could an existence seated so high atop towering chains of command eliminate any distractions down below? ----- After several hours pacing, rearranging, and charting boundaries of conceptual space to little avail, a knock on the door came so suddenly that Amitha nearly dropped her fifth cup of lukewarm coffee. Too late in the evening for one of her basement contemporaries to be seeking advice about their own strange projects. Too early in the morning for someone to be collecting trash that was classified due to stray DNA. Seeing only one person on the security camera, she unlocked the heavy door and eased it open. Her visitor was a tall, tanned woman in fatigues whose feathers of mud-brown hair fluttered in the artificial wind always blowing down that maintenance tunnel. Such garb was hardly rare at any facility, save for its complete lack of insignia. Even the most secretive projects typically couldn't resist displaying in-jokes that threatened to reveal the whole mess. "Dr. Sanmugasunderam?" she asked, voice scratchy in the dry air. "Are you from the P-MOG? Because I told them, it's absolutely impossible to–" "No, the //boss// sent me." Of every word that could have sprung from chapped lips, that one was closest to holding thaumaturgic weight. An overseer. Overseer-6, specifically, but not only that. The boss, as though embodying the Foundation and sublimating its might within themselves. The boss, an emperor for modern times who was supported by legions of their own. "You're from Alpha-1?" "Probably not the part you're used to dealing with," said the woman with a grin that showed the faintest sliver of teeth. "You can call me Wren." Suppressing a sigh, Amitha stepped aside to allow her through the door, duffel bag and all. A peculiar haze followed, numbness extruding through pores and suffusing the air in a way few were likely to perceive. It clung tight, refusing to disperse even as Wren put her bag down and surveyed the cramped, cluttered room for threats. "I'm afraid I don't have any problems that need solving right now," said Amitha, returning to her long-suffering coffee maker for another cup. "Not unless you have any expertise with... this." //This// had expanded into a conspiracy theorist's wet dream of interconnected papers hung on wash lines. Under her care, the seed provided by Overseer-6 had sprouted into a ritual for realigning the shape and position of constellations, for defeating seers, prophets, and astrologists past; staving off every secret empire's fate of falling into graves of its own design. Or, at least, it would assume that shape once certain problems were solved—first and foremost, the matter of how many roots needed to be removed for the rest to rot. Wren cocked her head like a puppy while examining the disassembled tome, but that was to be expected. "I'll leave you to it," she finally said. Fifteen minutes later, the Overseer Council's loyal hound was sleeping against her duffel bag on the concrete floor, chest rising and falling, hand never moving more than a few inches from her holstered pistol. With how calloused fingers twitched there, the subject of her dream was obvious: fire and fires, arson and artillery, a kind of wizardry entirely baser than Amitha's own practice. Having been left to it, she returned to Overseer-6's pet project. Progress was all the more important now that a spy rested in her midst. ----- "Dr. Sanmugasunderam isn't available right now," said Wren to an earnest request for review by one of her intellectual hangers on. "Dr. Sanmugasunderam has been given a different portfolio," said Wren to a superior who specialized in stealing work. "Dr. Sanmugasunderam will call you back when she can." "Dr. Sanmugasunderam doesn't need any. Ask someone else." "Dr. Sanmugasunderam has been exempted from regular facility reviews." So persistent were Wren's denials at the door that Amitha was able to deliver her timeline without delay. A day became a week afterwards. A week became a month. The ritual developed unevenly all the while, fits and starts carrying it from leyline junction to field distribution, then from causal engine to retrograde slide. Achieving sufficient precision in this project was a feat unlike any undertaken at the Foundation's behest. To not only achieve the impossible, but to do so within such strict limits... the only shame was how classified it would inevitably become. Yet another accomplishment buried deep. Although more secretary than watchdog, Wren's wariness never wavered for a second. No one was allowed over the threshold into her office. No one was allowed near the industrial shower that she bathed in or the sparse bathroom nearby. No one was allowed to interrupt the mundane rituals of protection that would have driven her stir-crazy were the project not all-consuming. ----- > "Concerning noise on the serum scope today." > > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "I noticed the same pattern. Could be a play to distract us, could be more significant." > > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "Let's see what bubbles up before making any decisions. We can afford to not snap at every provocation like the Committee and the Council do. It's what keeps us in the game." ----- On one of many days that blended together, Amitha looked away from her design—now flattened across an arc of additional tackboards that vanished beneath paper coating. At the door, Wren was muttering to a man in matching fatigues whose trimmed beard ill-matched childish eyes. Cash and a styrofoam contained changed hands, then a salute so lazy that only laughter followed. Wren sat on a folding chair, opened the container, and began scarfing down strips of brown meat from within. "Liver stir fry," she said after meeting Amitha's gaze. Without swallowing first, naturally. "Liver and...?" "Just liver. Want some? You didn't answer when I asked before." Amitha turned back to work as the sounds of open-mouth chewing continued. The whole container couldn't possibly be liver. Nevertheless, more brown was being shoveled into Wren's maw when she retreated from the tackboard for more coffee ten minutes later. "Was that one of your colleagues? I hadn't expected to see another in this site any time soon." "Oh, we're all over the place." Wren smiled, disquieting as ever despite the chunk stuck between two teeth. "Ferret got off lucky. I had to drive across Utah with a case of fancy mineral water last year, and I'm not even on overseer duty." "Isn't that demeaning? They are more than important enough to have other people make deliveries. Especially considering your task force’s reputation." "We do it //because// they're important," she said, snapping up the last bit of dinner like a bear trap closing around some hapless hiker's ankle. "To us, to the Foundation, to everyone. But what about you? Never made deliveries as an apprentice? I figured wizards couldn’t help but boss underlings around with how the Serpent's Hand does business." "My doctorate is in applied mathematics actually. Thaumaturgy stems from it once the flaws of a few principles are acknowledged. Frankly, I'm surprised how few students manage to identify them." "Downright embarrassing!" "I thought it resulted from influence operations at first, but it may simply be a failure of imagination. Though mathematics is portrayed as a boring field, being able to visualize and implement is as important for a practitioner as any artist. Perhaps even more so." "Quite undoubtedly!" She looked up to see those sharp eyes glinting with one-sided glee. Of course. Why shouldn't genuine interest be met with mockery? She sipped her coffee, found it staler than usual, and discarded the cup in an overfull trash can. "You should get back to minding the door before any trouble sneaks in." "Amitha, I didn't mean it that way." "I find myself inundated with those nuisances the Overseer warned me about." "Ami!" ----- The more Amitha mulled over the problem of safely amplifying Overseer-6's work, the more it felt like trying to shift stonework beneath a trillion-ton edifice. She practically wrote the playbook on identification, validation, and deviation—at least in modern times—but there was a distinct difference between prophecies and //prophecies//. Cold suffused its bones. Iron twisted through its spine. 'Every empire falls,' it repeats in a thousand tongues stretched throughout history and reinforced by actuality. Every empire falls, every emperor dies. No wonder the Foundation's own council of them so desperately wanted to divert that river. As to whether their desires should be enabled, well, such questions were answered at higher levels by higher powers. Not for the lowly court magician to question anywhere but inside her head. "I think that's enough," she mused, stepping back from the supply closet whose rummaging had occupied her hands during idle contemplation. "You think?" asked Wren from behind. Amitha turned to see her selections arranged in an ungainly fashion: bottle necks sandwiched between fingers, miscellanea piled onto crooked arms, a drawstring hung from sharp teeth, and a tome older than either of them sandwiched between cheek and shoulder. Barely-tamed eyebrows rose as if challenging her to make another addition. And why not toss the old pocket watch on top? Tinkering with its unusual geometries was more of a pet project than anything else, less applicable to momentous workings than party tricks, but inspiration often stemmed from unlikely sources. At her direction, Wren arranged items on a circle adapted from some of the oldest recorded divination rituals. Chalk sketched out apex and nadir, formed bridges between past and future along every possible path; brute forcing solutions felt nothing but inelegant, but such were ancient practices. Following more dignified philosophies? Living in more elegant societies? Ridiculous. If her predecessors truly achieved mastery, they would have first perfected this method of shunting burdens elsewhere. Patches of distant seawater boiled as Amitha took her place in the circle, completing its circuit and placing herself at its helm. Several individuals teetering at the brink of heart attacks finally succumbed. The chaotic noise suffusing existence ordered itself ever so slightly, countless thumbs put on countless scales, all balanced such that her only personal aftershock was a headache. Not that she was conscious of such happenings. Amitha's mind was a line of fire tracing backwards through time, pinballing between invocations of that unnamed prophecy whose sights were now squarely trained on the Foundation. "Every empire falls" declared a man sending his IED's detonation code from a burner phone. "Every empire falls" was the collective agreement within a dissident coffee shop in the dead of night. "Every empire falls" proclaimed the tract on fundamental freedoms after its author had already been executed. Backwards, backwards, backwards, charting a tree of otherwise disconnected lives that finally arrived at its deepest root. There, stone cracked against stone as a figure cloaked in the shadows of ancestral memory fashioned the head of an axe. Their words weren't intelligible, not by any modern mind, but the meaning was clear even in an era before civilization assembled itself into such grand, imperious forms. Every empire falls, every emperor dies. The stone edge agreed, hungry for split skulls and shed blood. The future agreed, itself swollen with both. Amitha's consciousness simply noted its coordinates on all observable axes as sparks flew from stone. By the time that precursor shade looked up from its work, her presence had long since vanished into the future created by such declarations. Warmth swept through her mouth as consciousness returned. Coughing blood onto smudged chalk, she twitched on the concrete, struggling up onto all fours before collapsing again to clutch at her clogged windpipe. What went wrong? Not the circle, not her linkages... Even a keen mind could only race through so many possibilities when hounded by asphyxiation. Wren stared from above throughout it all. Although early in adulthood, her impassive gaze made no secret of what death meant. Nothing. Less than nothing. She shifted from foot to foot, boot to boot, continuing her watch as Amitha reached out. "Oh, was this not supposed to happen?" she asked. More muted coughing was the only answer. Calmly, confidently, Wren scooped up her ward by the armpits and lifted her into a nearby chair. A single blow to the chest broke up whatever had formed there. Amitha's next cough brought it up in chunks, a bloody mass suffused with bits of flint and splintered bone. Impossible amounts splattered onto the floor with each subsequent expulsion, but impossibilities were merely matters of course in that field. "Isn't this why we stop people from learning magic?" asked Wren while opening a water bottle. Amitha made to accept it, only for half to be gulped before her eyes. Washing down whatever blockages lingered offered much less relief afterwards. "They find ways to hurt themselves no matter how many guardrails are in place," she finally answered. Plastic crunched between tightening fingers. "But it's right in the motto, isn't it?" "I didn't realize Alpha-1 put so much weight in marketing. It's been a long time since containment and protection balanced out." "Oh, none of us care much. We serve the overseers, not the Foundation. Some true believers would be appalled though." "I'm sure they wring their hands over firearms just as thoroughly. To think, a device capable of delivering death at vast distances in the blink of an eye." She waved her hand, as if striking down one of many foes for transgressions past and present. "Humanity would be far safer without such things floating around." Another disquieting smile followed, lacking all but the slightest traces of humor. Wren set to cleaning up the bloody mixture—scrubbing diligently, then picking with chewed fingernails—and Amitha massaged her sore throat. Perhaps she had underestimated the scope of those roots despite enjoying a healthy respect beforehand. Perhaps it wasn't a prophecy at all, but instead a primal truth bubbling in the depths of humanity's mire. Did Overseer-6 understand as much when setting her to this task? Was this, finally, the reason it had been left to her instead of an expert within their council's closest circle? Anyone could be excused for giving up after such an experience, for telling them that her loyalty had reached a generous paycheck's limits, but neither money nor loyalty were truly in question by then. Fate had delivered the first punch, but she was intent on having the last. ----- > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "No, they haven't submitted any responses to the FD-303. Is that ever anything but a challenge? At least they don't lie to our face as much as the Committee's." > > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "Will your people be sufficient? Parts of Site-24 have been dark to most methods for two months now." > > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "I'm sorry, your //agents//. Have someone prepare the paperwork and I'll put it on her desk myself. Why have fingers if we don't put out an eye every now and then?" ----- "So, Ami, about this whole project," started Wren. She had achieved a truly precarious position in her chair, balanced on two legs at the exact angle to be toppled by the slightest nudge. Near-continuous cohabitation in that sub-basement left the watchdog feeling more like a piece of furniture herself; if not entirely comfortable, than at least familiar. "I can't help but notice you haven't told the boss much lately. Especially not since, you know..." "Yes, the 'you know.' Of course" "Since the bout of blood barfing then?" Amitha rubbed the bags beneath her eyes instead of considering the tackboards any longer. They had taken on a malignant aspect lately, an atmosphere that even progress failed to dispel. "I never enjoyed turning in half-completed homework. Is there a problem?" "Just wondering if you're embarrassed about spilling your guts in the middle of an audition." "Is that how this seems?" "Oh, definitely! They'll put the gun in your hand, but //you// have to pull the trigger. Whether or not you know whose head is on the other end is a whole different question." "They must have said who was holding the bucket for your audition, at least. Our leaders would never dare seem inconsiderate." A genuine laugh followed, distinct as possible from her usual cackles, followed by a playfully tossed bottle. It landed so off-mark that it couldn't have been honestly aimed—not from the //three-time Alpha-1 knife throwing champion//, if sleepless boasting was to be believed. It was easy to forget the joys of companionship when surrounded by fake smiles and grasping hands. What was a body count compared to their absence? Something approximating silence crept back into the workshop in their conversation's wake. Wren's chair creaked slightly beneath her rocking, and the dense network of pipes, girders, and wiring surrounding them groaned in its usual fashion, interspersed with distant footsteps whose vibrations carried far and wide. "I figure it's liable to piss people off," said Wren just as Amitha began dozing in a chair inherited from long-dead grandparents. "It couldn't possibly. I didn't even get any blood on them." More laughter followed, cradling a tiny spark to kindling inside. That the Alpha-1 agent nearly fell again despite protests to the contrary upgraded her from furniture to housepet at the very least. When finally composed, Wren rose from her seat, stretched, and promptly began pacing from crowded cabinet to coat rack. "Pissing people off though. Pissing people off... This is all about changing the future, right? Making sure stuff doesn't happen that was supposed to?" "In a way. I would phrase it as letting events transpire that couldn't otherwise. Opening up a possibility space that would have naturally narrowed to a single point." "So, theoretically, if there were standing orders to not aggravate people who care about making predictions, we might be in violation?" "If you phrase it that way, I suppose–" Wren nearly dived over the couch Amitha had taken to sleeping on in pursuit of her duffel bag. A great clatter sounded back there, and she emerged with a secure cellphone already ringing. "Whose orders are you worried about? This assignment came directly from the top, and it's barely applicable research besides that. They will bury it if need be, just like they always do. No one should hold you responsible for my work." "Sometimes we have to protect the overseers from themselves." She hunched further on the couch as the ringing stopped, nearly hugging her knees in the process. "Wren speaking. Palisade perennial six seven two slate serene. Requesting any information on unusual RAISA activity in Site-24, high priority. Uh huh. Yeah, standing by." Guns emerged as she nodded along to whatever words came through. The one from her hip, first and foremost—standard issue, matte black, and all the more ominous for how unassuming it had become. A similarly standard rifle from her duffel bag, quickly unfolded and checked, then an antique revolver that seemingly emerged from empty air. Perhaps from the air in truth with how it reeked of power beyond gunpowder. "You can tell me if we're in danger," said Amitha once the call ended. "Danger is such a loaded word," she said while fishing out a handheld radio that was cradled with more trepidation than any firearm. "How long do you need to move this project? Most of it must be in your head by now." "Fifteen minutes." Nervous energy suffused the haze that followed her minder, leaving no doubts about how serious she was. Wards would protect the study from most meddling anyway. Layered documents from her board became fresh stacks, diffusing its energy as she precisely dissected the behemoth grown there. Not ten minutes later, a knock came on the reinforced door. Whatever nerves were burning within Wren didn't stop her from glancing at the security display, waving Amitha further back, and cracking the door. A shove from outside opened it halfway to reveal an intruder uniformed in blacks and grays. Holographic noise wrapped everything above their shoulders in an ever-shifting, ever-twitching shroud of faces who looked outwards in a singular panopticon. No matter how they were examined, a new set of eyes stared into Amitha's own—personalized recognition that would give anyone pause. Features similar to her mother's watched intently. Those approximating an acquaintance from undergrad, then a janitor frequently seen in the halls outside. Hundreds more followed, discernible only by vestigial instinct as passingly familiar faces smeared together. Was its wearer watching as intently as those projections? Did they notice her at all? Hesitation sprang from uncertainty, a concern that any motion would be filed away in RAISA's endless archives, every slight or sign of hostility an entry itself. That their gloves cradled a short-barreled rifle seemed insignificant compared to the havoc that institution could wreck when wronged. For her part, Wren seemed entirely unconcerned despite the pistol held along the small of her back. Cocking her head to the side popped several vertebrae in a particularly gruesome fashion, masking the weapon's own click. "Where is Dr. Amitha Sanmugasunderam?" came a voice equally distributed across countless intonations. "She's busy right now," said Wren, maintaining the same mix of arrogance and aloofness that staved off so many less-authoritative inquiries. "I'll take a message if you want to back up a little." "Ms. Cooper-Hughes, our office is aware of your affiliation. Produce Dr. Sanmugasunderam and stand by for questioning." "Well, if you're going to use my name..." Wren started turning, and for a dire moment it seemed she might really give Amitha up to whatever aggravated forces were at work. Shifting, twisting, she instead fired twice from the hip. Sharp cracks echoed as the RAISA agent fell back, and two more followed as Wren shot down into the flickering haze. If either hit, it didn't stop them from firing back, a tight cluster of bullets smashing into center mass and flinging her backwards even as the projected faces kept constant eye contact with Amitha—assembled ghosts threatening to drag her into their ranks at the slightest hint of intervention. Although assigned a guard, she was no helpless apprentice. Force of will connected a circuit painted under the welcome mat, filling the corridor with fire. A //whumph// swallowed all other sounds for a moment as hungry flames licked inside, but both soon faded, leaving behind only a charred body whose helmet still flickered with ghostlight. "Fuck!" groaned Wren. Amitha rounded the bank of cabinets to see her pawing at her chest with both hands. "Do you need help? My doctorate isn't medical, but…" "Helped plenty already." After a few more grunts, she rolled over and struggled to her knees, then upright. "Get my radio, please." //That// word was certainly enough to impress the situation's severity even if a gunfight hadn't. The radio bworked in hand, and her next words were clearly not for present company. They were too humorless, too drawn from wells forcibly drilled. "Agent Wren assuming local command for overseer business. EYESORE is on premises at Site-24. Cause trouble, show fangs. Anyone with network access, send in a seventy-seven and get OPCOM direction." Four electric squawks answered that each sapped a little tension from Wren's shoulders. Every light went out, only to be replaced moments later by a sparse array of red backups. Wren took a deep breath and raised the radio again. When she spoke this time, it had none of the affectation. "And since you RAISA chickenshits are listening in, just know that you stuck your hand in the wrong rat trap. You've got no friends here, no traditions beneath you, and no hope left." A litany of threats followed that polluted existence by their utterance and were impossible to withdraw once issued. Something oozed down Amitha's back as she finished packing her armored briefcase, an understanding that human form is insufficient for humanity if nothing else. They crept through the darkened tunnels in single-file. Wren's fatigues shed wisps of steam as her vest's organic plates regrew, and Amitha's own borrowed armor hung heavy against the undershirt that had replaced formal attire in recent weeks. Warm, squirming, its existence almost distracted from the sight of a familiar place wrought in alien hues. There was little choice but to follow her escort through puddles of shadow, through stark shafts of light, all while Wren's head snapped back and forth beneath the guidance of superior senses. Around corners. Toward shadows. With each passage, she became more hunched, more feral, armed with weapons of war and so very many teeth. If the solitary EYESORE operative arriving at her door had been a peace offering, its rejection clearly resonated. Packs of three and four appeared at the main junctions between corridors, forcing an irregular route through service passages and stairwells, each barely wide enough to avoid burning limbs on an exposed pipe or snagging sensitive electronics. None of the pursuers so much as sparked her extrasensory perception, thaumatic signatures distorted by means as thorough as their faces, voices, and very footsteps. Ghosts indeed haunted those halls, and Wren seemed intent on defying their spite even when surveilled by so many eyes. Gunfire dinged off a pipe near Amitha's head, and she barely had time to wince before more bullets followed. From around a corner. From behind portable barriers. Wren returned fire, earning a yelp equally muted by equipment, and continued firing while Amitha hurried across the open corridor. For all the resources available, her bullets weren't infinite. Silence from that end was answered by a renewed barrage from EYESORE. It continued in alternating rounds until Wren howled "fire in the hole!" and hurled an empty magazine through stark red spotlights. Whatever panic it caused was left behind them as she sprinted after Amitha, grabbed her forearm, and continued running toward the parking bay. The escape wasn't over, not by any means. Confirmation of their presence summoned however many specters remained. Gunfire echoed elsewhere. A muffled explosion. Such was their remaining number that even rounding distant a T-junction revealed two more who were recovering from a separate encounter with Alpha-1. 6'5" might as well be 8'0" when encountered thus, but Wren sidestepped a surprised swing of a combat knife anyway. Three remaining shots from her pistol thudded against heavier armor, leaving her to hurl it at one, duck the other's thrust, and pop back up to hammer her rifle's butt into a lowered chin. Bone cracked. Metal dented. She struck again before he collapsed, this time with a batter's swing that irreparably damaged weapon and skull both. Only then was it clear she had no means of evading the second operative's rifle when put to proper use. Thoughts of careful rituals were well beyond Amitha by then. Equations and entreaties, haruspicy and hesitation, all forgotten in a dive for whatever ankle was within reach. Both hands formed that most perfect circle around it, unleashing forces suited to some petty hedge mage who misunderstood that which they wielded. Something approximating electricity surged past her victim's heart in its quest to arc between light fixtures, and Wren finished the job with a knife grabbed from the floor. Blood spraying from that butchered throat seemed all too appropriate an anointment. "Why am I working this hard when you're //magic//?" she panted. "Not that kind of magic!" said Amitha with more energy than intended while collecting her briefcase. "I create //works//. I perfect them! This site could be a smoking crater, but only with time to prepare." "Yeah, well, that's something we're lacking right now. C'mon." Although senior in age and rank, she allowed herself to be pulled along again. Down a corridor. Down another. Reversed, as a swarm of EYESORE agents revealed themselves, then sprinting down the longest straightaway yet. Amitha hadn't run so much since elementary school, a deficiency exposed by heaving breaths. Bullets pounded into the back of her vest, driving out leftover air, and she finally tripped over her feet. Wren swung Amitha around with strength unsuited to those lithe limbs and drew her pistol in a single motion—not the standard-issue one, but the antique revolver. "Bless me, boss," she whispered, pulling its trigger with a thunderous click heard even as lead whistled past. Concentric rings of fangs sprouted from walls, floor, and ceiling, racing down the corridor in a vast swallowing that tore apart armor with ease. The concrete, a gullet. EYESORE, a piddling snack. Its summoning resonated as otherworldly enamel found a skeletal frequency, and being dragged away was a relief by then. Rivers of saliva followed whose flow seemed unlikely to cease any time soon. "Why am I doing magic when you have //that//?" she panted. "Because now I only have two shots left! This thing is precious." "More precious than our lives?" The silence following them into the parking bay spoke volumes. Wren fumbled under the bumper of an SUV that had been parked in the same spot for years, finally emerging with a key that started its surprisingly lively engine. Collapsing into the passenger seat was such a relief that her heart might have come apart then and there. Hopefully someone at the safehouse could piece it back together. Under the yellow of highway lights, under the flickering of stars yet aligned, Amitha fell into a deeper sleep than ever before. ----- > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "No, of course she isn't happy. I'm not happy either. Toy soldiers aren't half as much fun once they break." > > NULLED BY UNTHREADING > > "Save it for after salvaging this. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5656 OKMGLOS] has a lock and you have your orders. Any longer and leadership will decide the political pressure isn't worth it //or// us. Lambs don't get off easily." ----- They swapped napping and driving in 45-minute shifts, stopping occasionally at run-down rest stops in central Pennsylvania. Wren promised it was sufficient to evade anything in the playbook, but assurances felt hollow when ghosts of ghosts clung to her back and specters of specters haunted their footsteps. Every rustling tree in those parts seemed sure to contain larger predators, but even those didn't compare with the curses RAISA laid upon its enemies. Vanished bank accounts. Disappeared deeds. Even births and deaths were undone under their watch, records rendered null to the Internet, to paper, to memories. Perhaps the subtle fraying felt at her senses' periphery was only a first step. What was she truly without those pins to the material world? Not a disappointment of a daughter, nor an excellent student; not a publisher of fearsome manuscripts or an employee whose deeds were buried in blacksites. Amitha shivered in the summer breeze until Wren ushered her back inside. "You need to be ready to escape on your own," she said casually after starting the van. Fingers tapped against its steering wheel, and slit pupils shone in a roadside ditch. "No telling how things will sort out upstairs, and we're bound to show up on someone’s camera eventually." "Are you suggesting they already have access to footage here?" "Are you saying they don't have it everywhere?" "Most groups overstate their capabilities. I was once assigned to support an OPCOM who insisted his task force could breach the Library so often that someone higher up actually started believing it." "How'd that go for them?" "We can't discuss it out here. I advised against the attempt, not that it earned me respect." "Nobody seems to respect lil' ol' Ami," chirped Wren, reaching out to pinch her cheek as though teasing a child. "Don't worry, we'll make them remember us if it comes to that." Pushing her hand away took more strength than expected, though the sheen of sweat helped. Whose it was and why it formed remained unclear. "Shouldn't you be thinking about how to escape before thinking about how we die?" "Can do. Hold that thought." She spun the wheel, careening into a wide turn as the road beside them exploded. Another missile streaked by, annihilating a gnarled tree whose foliage wasn't enough to protect against UAVs. Wren leaned out the window for a look, swore under her breath, and barely managed to swerve down a narrower path without toppling their vehicle. For her part, Amitha could see the faintest hint of it through the sunroof, a dark shape against clustered stars. Evening had thankfully chilled enough that breathing against the glass left condensation behind. She sketched geometric patterns into it while Wren's cursing escalated to new heights. Such was her displeasure that it almost called into question whether EYESORE truly deserved unmatched spite, whether vile words approximated spells of their own. Amitha's magic had more practical effect regardless. She slapped her palm against the sunroof, transmuting glass into an avian shape that streaked upward in pursuit of prey. A ball of fire bloomed in the heavens moments later. "Ha!" shouted Wren, overwhelming her ward's self-satisfied chuckle. She ruffled Amitha's hair this time, worse than ignorant of personal space, but it was hard to care when shards of melted plastic fell all around them. ----- Their journey concluded outside a warehouse that leaked strobe light through its seams. Bass accompanied the display, thumping loud enough to be felt in her teeth, but Wren didn't hesitate to knock on a side door. With both of them clothed in whatever could be bought with $43 in pooled cash—a cast-off jacket here, torn jeans there—they might truly have been attending whatever party raged inside. If only Amitha didn't feel twenty years too old for it. The door's slat cracked open, exposing a pair of opalescent eyes that practically glowed with raw starlight. "What offerings do you bring to this most hallowed ground?" its owner asked, voice lilting. "My dick, if you're brave enough to come get it." Both eyes narrowed. Glistening like the edge of a sharpened blade, each expressed a condemnation outstripping anything wielded against them in Site-24, but soon opened even wider than before. "Ah, the muzzle returns as it ever does! Delightful irreverence, most delightful. Has our tithe run its course already?" "Nah, I'm here for something else. Not looking to spoil your fun this time." "Generous indeed. Please do partake." With that, the eyes closed, the slat closed, and the door swung open. Lights indeed flashed within, music indeed pounded, but whatever filled the warehouse floor failed to meet such simple labels. Its mass gyrated unevenly, figments and fragments overlapping in a writhing mass of limbs and light. It wasn't truly there, of course, but it wasn't absent either, a half-being enraptured by dances performed beneath moonlight for centuries on end. Wren paid it little mind, instead pressing through a more coherent crowd at the periphery with Amitha still in tow. At a table tucked away behind curtains of opaque green plastic, she spoke in hushed tones until an arm emerged clutching two pill bottles. If nothing else, at least the limb was human. "Take one of each," said Wren after retreating toward the entrance. No opal-eyed bouncer was in sight. "I'm sorry?" "One of each. This one makes everything sharper, this one makes you fuzzy to other people. Don't ask me about chemistry." "But–" "Unless you can make some smoking craters real quick, we need an edge to escape this net. Weren't you the one who said we should focus on surviving? Come on. I don't want to shove them down your throat." "Is this how Alpha-1 behaves with the overseers? Do you treat them like children too?" A surreptitious glance at their surroundings followed, turned toward any signs of unwarranted interest by partiers inebriated or otherwise, and Wren leaned close enough that the smell of raspberry slurpee from hours before carried on her breath. "If you were an overseer, we would have torn RAISA out by the roots already. Summary executions in secret cells. Fires in their libraries. We would personally, //personally//, ensure that new hires hear such awful ghost stories about what happened that they refuse to believe them." The glare enhanced by her few extra inches of height was intense, but it didn't stop Amitha from leaning even closer. "Why do you think I'm any less scary, Wren? Is it because I don't resort to violence at the drop of a hat? I promise, with a few strands of your hair, I could strip the flesh from anyone you ever called a friend and bind it into custom nooses from a hundred miles away. I'm not a child, not a piece of luggage, and definitely not a plaything." Wren's nose crinkled at the intrusion into her own personal space, that numb haze offering little protection. "So… you're saying I should have grabbed one of those bodies on our way out of Site-24?" Amitha sighed and grabbed the pills. Dry swallowing was unpleasant, and she barely felt an effect before being led through the doorway by her hand. Sharper? Sharper. Indeed, the world seemed awfully sharp as they walked into the crosshairs of at least twenty guns materializing from camouflaged hides. Smaller drones whirred overhead, directing spotlights that failed to block out an equal number of jittering shrouds. "Back inside, Ami." Wren managed to draw that revolver from its holder—both having developed calcium deposits—before a bullet blew half her head off. Amitha grabbed for it, feeling like the only real thing in existence, but another bullet hammered her leg out from underneath all the same. One member of EYESORE immolated, an invocation that blinded her left eye in backlash. She swiveled the right toward another agent, every bit the vengeful wizard, and something else exploded nearby. She remained the only real thing, and being real hurt. Lying in the dirt, she palpated her bleeding chest, finding something that felt an awful lot like heaving lungs in the process. Whether or not a spell could be enacted to piece everything together seemed moot when it would all be torn apart again. How disappointing. Just when her greatest ritual of all was nearly complete... In front of her, Wren's corpse grabbed the revolver. More gunfire erupted, further pulverizing what remained of those keen eyes, of that smirk, but not before cold hands fired into the sky. Such an uncharacteristic act of mercy. Its existence soothed the pain nevertheless, stinging alcohol that quickly faded into the feeling of a warm embrace. Only when Amitha lifted from the ground did she realize its actualization. Of every hug, of every soothing touch, this felt separated by an insurmountable gulf from that which stemmed from mortal hands—a nest of fingers whose entwining left no gaps to slip through. One reached out to stroke the gaping hole in her chest, its component digits squirming out like villi to examine the nuances of broken ribs and shredded flesh, picking out bits of shrapnel as they went. "This won't do at all," thrummed a voice entirely dissimilar to the simulacrum in Overseer-6's office. This held authority, true authority, and their surroundings quaked in response. Every gun echoed out too, their chatter buffeting the cocoon that only wrapped tighter around Amitha. Lead filtered through in bits and pieces, crumpled even tighter by the forces inherent in that construct. Each was delivered tenderly into her cupped palms as though a trinket to be cradled. A single finger unfolded from that barricade toward the array of firing soldiers. It wasn't flicked, nor jabbed, but indicated intent in the simplest gesture available to any thaumaturge—an intent that seemed all but impotent in the following moment. No spellwork flowed forth, no tapping into leylines or other sources of power. Even a mortal wound wouldn't prevent their observation by her trained eyes. And yet, something trembled. The skeletal rituals now managed by others. The subtle wards imprinted upon members of the Foundation. The remnants of far older, more fundamental workings. Something trembled, and Amitha trembled too. First went the guns. Screws came undone in unison, pulling inches away before hanging motionless as larger springs, plates, and chambers separated in a state of fruitless toil. Hammers pounded nothing. Unspent cartridges ejected all the same. Although still warded by holographic halos, the EYESORE team's confusion was evident; their hesitation, obvious. Well-merited too. Their bodies were next ejected from all that protected them, blasted backwards through layers of cloth and armor—out from boots, gloves, and panoptic helmets. Amitha barely perceived an ethereal finger pushing each by the sternum. It drove raw, muscular forms from within dermal layers. It drove skeletons through those, then assemblies of organs still working to preserve an absent host. The hunters were separated thus. Layers of their existence hung over the asphalt, maintaining form and function in the most sickening anatomical diagram imaginable. "Your work remains," the voice prompted, pulling Amitha upright by fingers wrapped around fragments of her ribcage. "Demonstrate the framework and I will carry it through. Let us bury these words once and for all." Indeed, the time for hesitation had long since passed. RAISA's threats of an unmarked grave simply weren't acceptable in this life or any other; should her tomb rise, it must be grand beyond compare. A circuit formed in the gore-smeared crater ringing Amitha's chest, simple patterns funneling her will into deeper and deeper layers of the strata undergirding reality in pursuit of mechanisms by which to enact her fading will. A pulse here. A reverberation there. The Overseer's presence loomed throughout, noting what their own will had wrought. "Ah, I see." So much raw power poured into her construct that it seemed liable to sunder fate's workings entirely. No wonder subtlety needed outsourcing. The alignment of stars and states broke apart, shattering the meaning of every constellation above that stone axe, scattering its potential into forms unknown. The peasant. The dissident. The revolutionary. Such figures would continue to exist, but no longer could their eventual success be guaranteed under this disjunction. Half the night sky went black, a bulb unscrewed, and Amitha finally died beneath that yawning absence. "That won't do either," were the last words she heard. ----- No research ever demonstrated what preserved Amitha after that; certainly none of her own, though plenty was conducted at Overseer-6's direction. Such was the life of a court wizard—//the// court wizard, especially when outranked only by the emperor herself. And what was a wizard absent a comparable knight? If only hers didn't have quite so many fangs. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Pedantique]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-01T07:28:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Seething at the Stars - SCP Foundation	21	[ "scp-5370", "scp-5656", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1447593502	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/seething-at-the-stars
segfault	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="sign"> <p>A <span class="ature"><a href="https://twitter.com/rounderhouse">ROUNDERHOUSE</a></span> Joint</p> </div> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Coming Soon - Rounderhouse</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.scp-wiki.net/rounderhouse-s-author-page">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aredtape/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« PREVIOUS: <a href="/autopsy">AUTOPSY</a></strong></p> <hr/> <p>Ari Katsaros and David Rosen woke up some fifty feet from each other at nearly the same time, just after the crack of dawn — an admittedly arbitrary concept in a place where it was night for months at a time. The Director’s suite had a main living space and kitchenette, with two rooms on opposite sides: one for the Overseer, and one for his bodyguard, each with an attached bathroom. The goal was that each party would have a reasonable expectation of privacy whilst being close enough to rapidly respond in the case of an emergency.</p> <p>Of course, Site-7 was for all practical purposes a fortress; even if a hostile party did manage to locate the Site to begin with, pierce the SEP field, navigate the naval minefield, avoid the circling patrol boats, and successfully make it aboard the rigs, they would <em>still</em> be fighting through an army of highly-trained Site security personnel, followed by a contingent of some of the deadliest bodyguards in the world, followed by someone Rita Rodriguez had affectionately nicknamed the million-dollar woman. All things considered, lying in his bed, sheets wrapped around him, O5-2 felt pretty damn safe.</p> <p>But he couldn’t shake the feeling something was watching him. It had first hit him when Ari had pumped a dozen bullets into the chest of the thing that had been wearing Yamada’s face. That he had gotten within arms’ length of someone fully intending to blow his brains out — the thing that was currently sitting locked in a titanium coffin a short mile away. He’d assigned it the internal codename Subject HAVE RED, not that it mattered; no one except Moses and himself knew about it. And Ari, of course. He’d stopped counting her as a variable, he mentally noted; her companionship was assumed.</p> <p>Two was not a trusting person by nature. Working in RAISA is somewhat antithetical to the idea of trust — the philosophy is need-to-know, and nothing more. But even beyond that, he’d never been the kind of person to trust easily. He didn’t have many friends, and he wasn’t particularly open with any of them. Lying on his back in that dim bedroom, he realized with a start that Ari was probably the first person he had really trusted in years.</p> <p>Fifty feet away, she was thinking the same thing about him.</p> <hr/> <p>When he wheeled himself out of the door into the living space, Ari was nowhere to be found. He looked around for a few seconds before rolling to her bedroom door. He’d never actually been inside since she’d moved in, he registered. His hand hovered in front of the door before knocking.</p> <p>“Come in,” she called out. He pushed the door open before rolling in.</p> <p>The room had been a small, relatively bare space originally; functionally identical to his, barring a few modifications for accessibility he’d had installed. A porthole window looking out over the glacial waters of the Norton Sound, a simple desk, a wardrobe, and a bed. Looking around, he noticed she’d added a few creature comforts. A decorative banner of a sports team he didn’t recognize hung over the bed, and she’d somehow gotten her hands on a gun case to contain her collection of firearms. There were pictures pinned to the walls — some featuring her, some not.</p> <p>Ari was standing in front of a full-length mirror that was leaning against the wall, still wearing her workout clothes. She turned when she saw his reflection. “Something up?”</p> <p>“No. Not really.”</p> <p>“Okay. I’ll be ready to rock in a second.”</p> <p>He nodded, but didn’t leave. Instead, he wheeled around the room, looking at the little knickknacks. There was a shard of what looked like pottery sitting on the desk; he picked it up.</p> <p>“What’s this?”</p> <p>“Ceramic shard from a bulletproof vest. First time I ever got shot, actually.”</p> <p>“That happen often?”</p> <p>“More than I’d like, less than you’d think.”</p> <p>He snorted, putting the shard back where it was and resuming his wandering around the room.</p> <p>“You’re freaking me out, chief.”</p> <p>“Sorry. It… occurred to me that I put my life in your hands every day, but I don’t really know you.”</p> <p>She cocked her head. “You’ve read my security profile.”</p> <p>“Not exactly a holistic way to figure out what makes a person tick.”</p> <p>She shrugged. “Well, what do you want to know?”</p> <p>“Family?”</p> <p>“You definitely know that.”</p> <p>“Sure, but I’d like to hear it in your words.”</p> <p>“My dad lives in a retirement community in Florida. He was in the Marines. Not the best dad in the world, for sure, but he did his best. Mom died when I was twenty-one.”</p> <p>“Condolences.”</p> <p>“It was a long time ago. I’ve got a younger brother, Alex. We don’t talk often, but he’s a good kid.”</p> <p>“What’s he up to?”</p> <p>“Marines, just like Dad.”</p> <p>O5-2 nodded slowly. He spied a plush giraffe sitting on Ari’s bed and raised an eyebrow at her. She returned the look, crossing her arms. “It was a birthday gift from my brother. What about you?”</p> <p>“Me?”</p> <p>“Family.”</p> <p>He shook his head. “You don’t really get to have a family as an O5. Luckily I didn’t have much of anyone to begin with, but I have an older sister somewhere. She thinks I’m dead.”</p> <p>“Jeez.”</p> <p>“It’s the price of power. I make sure she’s taken care of. She never has to worry about losing her job or going hungry.”</p> <p>“That’s good of you. Must be lonely, though.”</p> <p>He shrugged, turning the wheelchair around and heading for the door. “We chose lonely lives.”</p> <hr/> <p>Ari was leaning against the wall of the conference room, tuning out the white noise of another leadership meeting. Rita, Evie, Pierre, Chen, and occasionally the Director were exchanging talking points, debating project priorities and timelines and deadlines. Necessary stuff, the doldrum that kept RAISA running — but nothing that interested her. She was pulled out of the reverie when O5-2 asked Chen for an update on “the GOC guy.”</p> <p>“I’m tapping into my connections,” Chen explained. “As far as I can tell, he hasn’t worked with the GOC for a while now. At least a year and a half.”</p> <p>Ari butted in. “He said that working with the Coalition was a ‘temporary arrangement’. Makes sense.”</p> <p>“Any idea where the target might be now?” O5-2 asked.</p> <p>Internally, Ari started at the use of the word ‘target’. It was a long time since she’d seen Farhan, but she didn’t want the next time to be after unzipping a body bag.</p> <p>“I have reason to believe he’s operating along Pakistan and India’s disputed border zone.”</p> <p><em>Damnit.</em></p> <p>Two mirrored her thoughts. “Lovely. He couldn’t have picked anywhere less tense, like the Gaza Strip?”</p> <p>“There are a few leads I’m following to pin down his exact location. I hope your friend can handle himself, Ari.” Chen looked up at her with full sincerity. “Kashmir has gotten ridiculously hot over the past few years. India, Pakistan, China, a PENTAGRAM psychoartillery unit, UNGOC peacekeepers, and Myrmidon and Valravn operating in the middle of it all. It’s the mother of all powder kegs.”</p> <p>She bit her lip. “And all it takes is one spark.”</p> <p>The Director nodded. “Hopefully we can blackbag him before it blows rather than after. Keep at it.”</p> <p>And then, just like that, Evie brought up something about a necessary patch to the SCiPnet numerical anomaly something-or-other, and the topic of Farhan was left in the wayside. Afterward, as she was following Two out, Rita touched her shoulder. The short machinist had her streaked hair tied back and a look of well-meaning concern on her face.</p> <p>“Hey, Cat!”</p> <p>“Cat?”</p> <p>“Y’know, cat, because Cat-saros! And because you’re like a cat.”</p> <p>“I am <em>not.</em>”</p> <p>“You definitely are! Silent, dark, brooding, moody, definitely a cat.”</p> <p>“I’m more of a dog person, actually,” she professed. “Anyway, what’s up?”</p> <p>“I just wanted to say, you okay?”</p> <p><em>Tch.</em> She bit her tongue. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”</p> <p>“Good! Good, ‘cuz I just heard from Pierre about what happened the other day — I’m not cleared to know about combat operations, formally — and just, you know, don’t really know how that sort of thing can make you feel. Plus it’s been so busy lately with winter setting in and everything, we haven’t talked in a bit. Let’s grab a drink tonight?”</p> <p>“Um, sure.”</p> <p>“Great! Been a bit since we talked, I’ll get the whole gang together. We’ll make an evening out of it!”</p> <p>They stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before Two called from down the hall. Ari put up her hands. “Gotta go.”</p> <p>“Sure, sure! Go, do your job, I’ll shoot you a message later.”</p> <p>Ari’s brow furrowed as she followed the Overseer down the hall. “Don’t know what that was about. Hope it’s not anything serious.”</p> <p>Two sighed. “Really?”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“She’s trying to be your friend. Even I know that, and my social circle extends to about thirteen people total.”</p> <p>“We <em>are</em> friends.”</p> <p>“You don’t get out much, do you?”</p> <p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p> <p>“It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize friendship isn’t a one-and-done affair for most people. It’s a muscle, one that needs regular exercise to stay useful.” He patted his thigh with a rueful smile. “Otherwise it atrophies.”</p> <p>She shrugged. “Way I see it, if you’re really friends, shouldn’t matter if you don’t talk to each other for a little while.”</p> <p>“Me too. But I think you forget most people aren’t like us.”</p> <p>She cocked her head down at him. “What are we like?”</p> <p>He shrugged evasively as they rolled into an elevator. Ari didn’t bother reaching for the screens — the tablet sitting in Two’s lap was connected to nearly every terminal and utility point in the site. He tapped something, and the elevator began to descend.</p> <p>“So what’s on the docket today?”</p> <p>“I have to head offsite for a bit. Take care of some stuff.”</p> <p>“What stuff?”</p> <p>“Clearance, Ari.” Something about his vaguity incensed her. Before she was fully aware what she was doing, she leaned forward and slammed a fist into the emergency stop button on the elevator panel. The elevator jerked to a halt, and O5-2 looked up at her in shock. She stared back at him accusingly.</p> <p>“Look.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “This is a two-way street. My job is protecting you. And if you don’t trust me, I can’t do my job.”</p> <p>“I do trust you.” It was the truth.</p> <p>“Then how come I’m always out of the circle? Why do I have to ask for clearance to accompany you on Council business? Why do we keep having little incidents like the one at STAG?”</p> <p>He didn’t respond.</p> <p>“You say you trust me, and maybe you do, but that doesn’t mean anything unless you act like it. Your Secretary is supposed to be your right hand, an extension of yourself. Let me do my job.”</p> <p>They were both silent for a few seconds, staring at one another. Finally, David broke it.</p> <p>“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m still… learning how to do all this, I guess.”</p> <p>Ari’s shoulders relaxed. Her breath calmed down.</p> <p>“It’s fine. I just don’t want you to get into something where I can’t help you. I care about you, David.”</p> <p>“I care about you too.”</p> <p>They fell silent, and Ari pressed the button again. The elevator continued its descent.</p> <p>“So, let’s try that again. Where are we going?”</p> <p>“Site-7B.”</p> <p>She blinked. “What?”</p> <hr/> <p>“I didn’t know we had a satellite facility,” she said as the Condor descended.</p> <p>“Most people don’t. The Archival Office is by far our smallest section, but no less important.”</p> <p>“A whole 20% of the acronym.”</p> <p>He nodded as the quadcopter hit the landing pad with a shudder, rotors settling down. Ari pulled the door open, kicking the ramp out and looking around.</p> <p>Site-7B — what she could see of it, anyway — wasn’t much. There was a tiny barebones airstrip she’d seen flying in, and a dirt path connected it to this clearing. Besides the helipad, there were a couple of storage sheds, a trailer, and a chain-link fence encircling it all. Beyond that were just dense pine trees.</p> <p>In fact, the only thing of interest in sight was the cave. It was large — easily wide and tall enough to fit a truck through, but the entrance was completely blocked by a set of huge blast doors. As she watched, a guard spoke into his walkie-talkie, and the doors began to creak open inch-by-inch.</p> <p>“Hello!”</p> <p>She turned. There was an older woman standing a few feet behind her — she looked to be in her 60s, with a grey bun pierced through with a pen. There were crow’s feet around her eyes, and a warm smile on her face.</p> <p>“Ms. Katsaros, I presume?” she asked, extending a hand.</p> <p>“Hi. Yeah, call me Ari. Who…?”</p> <p>“Head Archivist Marina Maxwell. I’m in charge of this sector of the Site. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person.”</p> <p>They shook as Two rolled up to them.</p> <p>“Nice to see you’ve met.”</p> <p>“No thanks to you,” Maxwell ribbed gently. “Are we such an unlikeable lot that you have to sequester this nice young lady from us?” She had a laugh like falling water.</p> <p>“No, just… never really came up.”</p> <p>A heavy clunk interrupted them. The blast doors locked into place, fully open, revealing a natural tunnel descending into the rock face. The area in front of the entrance was surrounded by wire fences and floodlights illuminating it in harsh white, casting long shadows as they made their way in. Just before they entered, Maxwell stopped them.</p> <p>“I hate to ask this, hun. But we have a strict policy with regards to contaminants in the vault.”</p> <p>“Contaminants?”</p> <p>“Any foreign material, especially stuff that’s electronic or anomalous in nature.”</p> <p>Ari stared for a second, not understanding — then it clicked for her, at the same time time as it did for Two.</p> <p>“Come on, Marina. You can’t be serious.”</p> <p>“It’s fine,” Ari said, cutting him off. She reached her right hand over to her left, popping the clasps that kept her prosthetic attached to her bicep. The fingers went limp as the nervous connection was interrupted, then she slid it off. “I can go without it for a little bit.”</p> <p>Maxwell accepted it gingerly, handing it off to one of the staff members. “We’ll take good care of it for you. Now, shall we?”</p> <p>Ari shielded her eyes as they slipped in. The tunnel was wide, and had been partially expanded in places; the floor was concrete and metal panelling. The floor was at a downwards incline, and she wordlessly grasped one handle of Two’s wheelchair to avoid slippage.</p> <p>“What is this place?” she asked as they came to a freight elevator. This didn’t have any of the accoutrements of Site-7’s modern elevators; it looked like it belonged in a mine somewhere. Maxwell pressed one of the lower buttons, and the elevator began to rapidly descend.</p> <p>“He didn’t even tell you?” She made a slight noise of irritation, one hand reaching down to gently cuff the back of his head.</p> <p>“It slipped my mind. I’m just a little busier these days than I used to be,” he answered with a slight edge.</p> <p>She ignored him. “Well, sweetie, this is Site-7B: the RAISA Vault. When SCiPnet was first created in the seventies, Maria Jones was faced with the problem of digitizing all the paper records that we’d been using for so long. We needed some place to put the originals in case we ever needed to access them, but we also needed to make sure that they were completely protected against every kind of degradation.”</p> <p>“Stuffing them into a damp cave seems counterproductive,” she commented as the elevator came to a stop.</p> <p>“Not just any cave. The Deep Well cave complex is technically an anomaly; SCP-6784. The exact effects are… complicated, but the gist is that anomalous effects stop working inside the cave. That means they’re protected from anomalous forms of degradation; we’ve gone and reinforced that with a whole lot of technology.”</p> <p>They wandered out of the elevator. The floor they were on was similar to the one they’d entered in, except that on all sides, she was surrounded with shelves that went up to the cave ceiling. They were stacked high with cardboard file containers. A few archivists were wandering around, moving boxes from place to place or inspecting containers. Unlike the main-Site personnel, the archivists enjoyed a few creature comforts — climate control that afforded them the luxury of business casual wear, most notably. Ari looked at her own fatigue pants and sweater with a twinge of jealousy.</p> <p>“The DEEPWELL suite. It’s named after this place?”</p> <p>Maxwell smiled. “Smart girl!”</p> <p>“Place must be huge, to contain all these files.”</p> <p>Maxwell and Two exchanged a look. “It’s definitely bigger than you’d think,” she brushed off. Ari elected not to pry.</p> <p>They continued down the metal walkway. Ari couldn’t see a rhyme or reason to the organization of the shelves, but supposed there had to be one; the place was labyrinthine. They suddenly took a sharp left, veering into an aisle of shelves. Eventually, they stopped in front of one.</p> <p>“I’ll leave you to it, David.” Maxwell wandered away, not seeing Two scowling at her back.</p> <p>“So what’s the deal there?”</p> <p>“The deal?”</p> <p>“She clearly knows you.”</p> <p>“Oh. She was… a mentor, of sorts, when I worked here. Before I was offered the position. We were close. Worked together a lot. Helped me get my footing in the organization — before the meteoric rise up. ”</p> <p>He fell uncharacteristically silent for a second.</p> <p>“Right. Uh, what are we looking for?”</p> <p>“That box right there, with the tamper tape.” She spotted what he was talking about — getting it down was a mild struggle with only one hand, but she managed it, lowering it into his lap. He unceremoniously tore the seal, fingers digging through the files as he skimmed over them. She watched as his brow furrowed and his face contorted with worry.</p> <p>“What is it?”</p> <p>“You heard her whole spiel about how documents here can’t be altered? Cosmic insulation against ontological reality changes?”</p> <p>“Sure.”</p> <p>He plucked one paper out of the box, handing it to her. She looked it over. It was part of a personnel file, but had been haphazardly blanked out. Not redacted; the relevant information simply wasn’t there. A white gap — one that felt oddly familiar. She stared at it, and as she did, she faintly felt her surroundings fall away, giving way to a dull buzz building in the back of her head. It reminded her of the men without faces, the men that turned to look at her in the building and in the hanger and the men whose body bags she’d unzipped just a few short weeks ago. Identity sloughing off, like wet paint in the rain — clouding the waters and pooling in the gutter until they drained, drained away.</p> <p>“Ari?”</p> <p>She snapped out of it, handing the paper back to him. “That’s supposed to be impossible.”</p> <p>“It is. Moses ran a DNA test on the bodies that would’ve bounced back a ping <em>somewhere</em> unless they simply weren’t in any genetic database in the world.”</p> <p>“Or in one that we just don’t have access to.”</p> <p>He snorted. “The odds of that are — well, nonexistent. Anyway, it’s moot, because it did turn up a ping. In our database.”</p> <p>Ari’s eyes widened. “What?”</p> <p>“We make all personnel, especially in the Security Department, surrender a DNA sample upon hiring. You can imagine it comes in handy a lot. Moses didn’t have access to it, but it gave me this — a personnel file for a Mobile Task Force operator that should by all rights be digitized into SCiPnet, that’s not. I don’t even know how long this box has been here. The data is just… missing. Name, hiring date, supervisor, history, anything. I don’t understand. This shouldn’t be possible.” He stared at the box and the impossible paper in front of him, at a loss. “This is RAISA. This doesn’t happen here.”</p> <p>“What number?”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“The MTF — what designation is it?”</p> <p>He looked at the paper again.</p> <p>“Delta-0. What’s Delta-0?”</p> <p>She stared back at him in confusion.</p> <p>“…We don’t have a Delta-0.”</p> <hr/> <p>A few hours later, they were sitting across from one another in the suite’s living room. Snow was beating down on the windows.</p> <p>“It doesn’t make sense,” Two said, not raising his gaze from the papers spread out in front of him.</p> <p>“It doesn’t,” Ari muttered in agreement. All she had in her hands was a mug of coffee.</p> <p>“Personnel that don’t exist — files that don’t exist — an entire task force that doesn’t exist. Maybe the first two, but the third isn’t something you can hide.”</p> <p>“Why not?”</p> <p>He looked up at her in confusion.</p> <p>“I know why not. Just, you know. Talking stuff out loud helps sometimes.” She continued sipping her coffee.</p> <p>Two nodded slowly. “Okay. Sure. Let’s talk it out. The REPLICA in Hokkaido was taken over by at least two… things, working with some degree of planning and organization.”</p> <p>She raised an eyebrow. “Things.”</p> <p>“What, do you have a better name for them?”</p> <p>She shrugged. “I’ve been calling them that word you used — infovores.”</p> <p>“Huh. I mean, I suppose it is techncially accurate — they consume people’s identities. Okay. Fine, infovores. Two infovores.”</p> <p>“You think it was just two of them?”</p> <p>“No. You don’t break into a Foundation facility with just two guys. I don’t care how many identities you eat.”</p> <p>“Okay, so there’s clearly some organization of them operating in conjunction. With the goal of… killing you, apparently. They were trying to lure you to the facility — and when that didn’t work, they tried to kill you at the airstrip.”</p> <p>“Why, though? Who would want to kill me? Moses already went over the most likely suspects — this isn’t GOC technology, Hand would never be this cloak-and-dagger, PENTAGRAM have no motive. Who else is there?”</p> <p>Ari found she had no answer. “Well, I don’t think either of us knows, so maybe shift gears: clearly these guys worked for us at some point in the past.”</p> <p>“That’s what the documents suggest, at least.”</p> <p>“Okay, so, sum them up for me.”</p> <p>“Personnel that don’t exist, leading us to files that don’t exist, leading us to a task force that doesn’t exist. You might be able to hide those first two, but an MTF? No chance.” He leaned back in his chair. “How did you know Delta-0 doesn’t exist, anyway?”</p> <p>“I was in the Security Department, remember? There aren’t any task forces with a dash-zero designation. There just aren’t. Everybody starts from dash-one. Even those guys,” she said, waving in the general direction of the Alpha-1 guards standing on the other side of the door.</p> <p>“None of this makes any sense,” Two reiterated.</p> <p>“It doesn’t,” Ari re-reiterated.</p> <p>They sat in silence for a few seconds before Ari spoke again.</p> <p>“Well. I know it’s impossible, but bear with me. Personnel that don’t exist and files that don’t exist could, feasibly, be hidden from you and everyone else if the person hiding them had a complex enough understanding of SCiPnet, right?”</p> <p>He grumbled, which she took as assent to the premise.</p> <p>“But a task force doesn’t work like that. You can’t just delete the file — there are mission orders, personnel records, requisitions, after-action reports. Entire supply lines and infrastructure for them, spreading across a dozen departments and divisions.”</p> <p>“Sure.”</p> <p>“Which means that in order to create a hidden task force, you’d need to redact that much information from across the entire Foundation. It needs an unparalleled level of influence, control…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes light up. He sat up straight.</p> <p>“A Council member.”</p> <p>“Bingo.”</p> <p>“That’s insane, though. Why would a Council member want me killed? I’ve only been on the Council for a year and a half. I don’t have the kind of enemies that Elev—” He cut himself off.</p> <p>“Don’t tell me it’s another clearance thing.”</p> <p>“No, no. Just, had an idea. Need to investigate it.”</p> <p>She nodded.</p> <p>“If this is a Council member — and I’m not saying it is, I’m just saying it’s a possibility — then you can’t trust… anyone. Seriously, you can’t bring this to a Council meeting, it’d be suicide.”</p> <p>“I know.” David was silent for a few seconds. “Well, I can think of one person I can trust.”</p> <p>In spite of the circumstance, Ari smiled. They lapsed back into silence before he broke it again a few seconds later.</p> <p>“So. We have a non-existent MTF made up of face-eaters who want to kill us, possibly with the backing and support of a sitting Overseer. They could be anyone, they could be anywhere, and a DNA test is the only way to identify them.”</p> <p>“Yup.”</p> <p>He sighed. “We’re really in the thick of it, aren’t we?”</p> <p>“Yup. But as far as places to be besieged, a fortress in the middle of the Arctic Ocean a hundred kilometers from the nearest sign of civilization and staffed with people utterly loyal to you is pretty good. Plus, look at the silver lining. If you get shot, you won’t have to go to any more Council meetings.”</p> <p>He smiled ruefully. “Could be worse.”</p> <p>She got to her feet, carrying the now-empty mug towards the kitchenette. But before that, she stopped next to him, placing a metal hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Then she walked away.</p> <hr/> <p>“In the middle of the Bering Sea and the beer is, somehow, still barely chilled. Astonishing.” Evie swirled her can around to underline the point.</p> <p>The four of them were sitting around a table in Site-7’s canteen. At this hour of the night, it was fairly busy; technicians and engineers coming down from their shifts to unwind with a glass of wine or a beer. There was no bartender; the entire system was automated, requiring only a few taps on a screen. It had taken the RAISA engineers all of half an hour to hack into it and serve themselves free beer when it was installed, she had been told. A terrible pop song from the 2000s was playing over the din of conversation.</p> <p>They were a few beers deep by now — not enough to get properly drunk, but just enough to have a light buzz going.</p> <p>“Well, if you’re not gonna finish it…” Rita said, making a playful grab at Evie’s can. Evie snatched it away, downing it and slamming the empty, unmarked aluminum can on the table.</p> <p>“She finished it,” Pierre noted duly. Ari laughed, and then they all laughed.</p> <p>“Busy week for you guys?” she asked. A chorus of noises sounded out around the table.</p> <p>“It’s always a busy week,” Evie said.</p> <p>“Same here.”</p> <p>“Not for me, actually,” Pierre offered.</p> <p>“Yeah, well, you have the easiest job here,” Rita shot back. Pierre looked offended at the suggestion, in his way, but to his credit, did not rise to the bait. Instead, Ari came to his rescue.</p> <p>“Hey, you try carrying that rifle around all day and barking orders.”</p> <p>“Being grumpy is a full-time position, my friends.”</p> <p>Ari took the last sip of her beer while they all laughed again. It occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she'd had close friends. Like this.</p> <p>She put the empty can down on the table, making it four. Then she planted her hand on the table, palm-up. The other three cheered, pushing their cans into the center. This was their favorite party trick. One by one, she planted them in the palm of her metal hand, then clamped it shut, crushing the cans into perfect little discs.</p> <p>“I got it.”</p> <p>She scooped them up, weaving through the techs standing and drinking, making her way to the recycling bin in the corner. Then she hit the automated bar again, swiping her card and watching as four more cans of beer were dispensed from the automated arm. Her ears perked up as she heard the room going silent behind her, turning around in confusion. Then she realized it wasn’t her they were going silent for.</p> <p>O5-2 wheeled himself into the canteen, stopping right past the threshold. The conversational din died down respectfully, a few folks even greeting him with raised glasses or cans. He had an odd look on his face as he scanned the crowd, and gave her a sharp head tilt after landing on her. She got the message, and quickly dropped the beers off back at the table.</p> <p>“Sorry, guys.”</p> <p>They were going to reassure her it was fine when Two cut them off.</p> <p>“They can come. And you can bring your beers.”</p> <p>They exchanged a look, but got to their feet, following him out of the door. The music and noise faded as they walked down the hallway, a generally-friendly but confused air about the group. Two led.</p> <p>“Where are we going?”</p> <p>“Bluefin.”</p> <p>Evie stifled a groan. “Long walk.”</p> <p>“We can take the chopper, if you’d like.”</p> <p>Ari cracked open her fresh beer. “We’ll walk.”</p> <hr/> <p>By the time they got the shipping and receiving platform, the respectful frost had mostly dissolved. They were drinking and laughing as they made their way down the walkways. They tried to offer Two a drink a few times, but he declined.</p> <p>“Not a drinker?”</p> <p>“Occasionally. Just not the stale pisswater the canteen stocks.”</p> <p>The unexpected vulgarity drew out another round of laughs from the group as they descended into the platform. The topside of Bluefin was mostly just a bunch of stacked shipping containers, but the underside of the platform was a maze of catwalks, walkways, freight elevators, and docks. Idly, Ari noted that the last time she had been here with Rita and Pierre, it had been when she was first brought aboard the Site.</p> <p>As they reached the bottom, she noticed another familiar sight in one of the docks: the snow-flecked hull of the <em>Teaser</em>. And, standing in front of it, her captain, looking as salt-grizzled as ever.</p> <p>“Rudy!”</p> <p>“Hey, kid.”</p> <p>They met each other with a firm handshake. Rudy looked down.</p> <p>“Good goddamn, what is <em>that</em> thing?”</p> <p>She raised her left hand, flexing the fingers. “My compensation. Part of it, anyway.”</p> <p>He let out a long, low whistle. “Damn. That is really quite impressive. Wow. Much better than my old thing.”</p> <p>“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”</p> <p>“Oh, you know, busy busy. Still running supply from here to port. You?”</p> <p>She smiled. “Settled in pretty well.”</p> <p>Two rolled up next to them, making Rudy jump to stand up straight. “Hello, Rudy. You have the package?”</p> <p>“Uh, yeah, yeah, skipper.” He turned and gave a sharp whistle. They all watched as they heard a pattering noise, growing louder until a large Alsatian rounded the corner, bounding up to them with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. It gave a sharp, loud bark.</p> <p>Ari’s face lit up as she knelt down in front of the dog, ruffling its fur with her good hand. It barked happily at her again. It was wearing a vest, the kind bomb dogs wore — just “COMBAT UNIT” and a simple Site-7 patch sewn on.</p> <p>“Who’s this guy?”</p> <p>“I was thinking about the other day — how DNA identification is the only way to, you know,” Two explained, skirting around the topic while they had an audience. “But it occurred to me that STAG has had pretty consistent success in animals, particularly dogs, being able to detect people using memetic masks. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have one more layer of protection.”</p> <p>“That’s all?”</p> <p>“That, and I remember you saying you were a dog person.”</p> <p>She smiled. “What’s his name?”</p> <p>Two checked his tablet. “Probable Cause.”</p> <p>She jerked back towards him so fast her neck nearly snapped. “His name is <em>what?</em>”</p> <p>Two raised his hands. “He was a military dog. You know that sense of humor better than I do.”</p> <p>Ari scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Uh, we’ll call you PC for now, I guess.”</p> <p>PC barked in assent, then wandered over to the rest of the group, sniffing and inspecting them. Evie shied away; Pierre, bafflingly, held the dog’s gaze for a few seconds while Rita pet him. They were still playing with him when they heard the pitter-patter of feet behind them again — human, this time. Ari turned.</p> <p>It was Chen, looking slightly-out-of-breath.</p> <p>“Where have you guys been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”</p> <p>Two rolled forward. “What’s wrong?”</p> <p>But Chen wasn’t looking at him; he was staring straight ahead at Ari.</p> <p>“You’re gonna want to get your things. We found your friend.”</p> <hr/> <div class="rnb-navbar"> <div class="rnb-item rnb-last"> <p><a href="/autopsy" style="display: block;"><span class="rnb-supertitle">PREVIOUS</span><br/> « AUTOPSY »</a></p> </div> <div class="rnb-item rnb-current site7nav"> <p><a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-7">SITE-7</a></p> </div> <div class="rnb-item rnb-next"> <p><a href="/daemon" style="display: block;"><span class="rnb-supertitle">NEXT</span><br/> « DAEMON »</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/segfault">Site-7: SEGFAULT</a>" by Rounderhouse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/segfault">https://scpwiki.com/segfault</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> autopsy.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;"><img alt="Rounderhouse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4187885&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735053004" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4187885)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/rounderhouse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4187885); return false;">Rounderhouse</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0 International</p> <p>This image is a composite of:</p> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Boxes of archival documents.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Smallison<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boxes_of_archival_documents.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> site7.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;"><img alt="HarryBlank" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6479803&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735053004" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6479803)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/harryblank" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6479803); return false;">HarryBlank</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/airgap">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/more-by:rounderhouse">:scp-wiki:more-by:rounderhouse</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en[!-- EN/RU/KO/CN/FR/PL/ES/TH/JP/DE/IT/UA/PTBR --] \|page=segfault[!-- url of your page on the scp wiki --] \|authorPage=http://www.scp-wiki.net/rounderhouse-s-author-page[!-- link to your author page --] \|comments= Coming Soon - Rounderhouse ]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:rso">:scp-wiki:component:rso</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:redtape">:scp-wiki:theme:redtape</a> \|years=5 ]] [[=image segfault.png class="angled"]] ---- = << PREVIOUS: [[[AUTOPSY]]] ---- Ari Katsaros and David Rosen woke up some fifty feet from each other at nearly the same time, just after the crack of dawn — an admittedly arbitrary concept in a place where it was night for months at a time. The Director’s suite had a main living space and kitchenette, with two rooms on opposite sides: one for the Overseer, and one for his bodyguard, each with an attached bathroom. The goal was that each party would have a reasonable expectation of privacy whilst being close enough to rapidly respond in the case of an emergency. Of course, Site-7 was for all practical purposes a fortress; even if a hostile party did manage to locate the Site to begin with, pierce the SEP field, navigate the naval minefield, avoid the circling patrol boats, and successfully make it aboard the rigs, they would //still// be fighting through an army of highly-trained Site security personnel, followed by a contingent of some of the deadliest bodyguards in the world, followed by someone Rita Rodriguez had affectionately nicknamed the million-dollar woman. All things considered, lying in his bed, sheets wrapped around him, O5-2 felt pretty damn safe. But he couldn’t shake the feeling something was watching him. It had first hit him when Ari had pumped a dozen bullets into the chest of the thing that had been wearing Yamada’s face. That he had gotten within arms’ length of someone fully intending to blow his brains out — the thing that was currently sitting locked in a titanium coffin a short mile away. He’d assigned it the internal codename Subject HAVE RED, not that it mattered; no one except Moses and himself knew about it. And Ari, of course. He’d stopped counting her as a variable, he mentally noted; her companionship was assumed. Two was not a trusting person by nature. Working in RAISA is somewhat antithetical to the idea of trust — the philosophy is need-to-know, and nothing more. But even beyond that, he’d never been the kind of person to trust easily. He didn’t have many friends, and he wasn’t particularly open with any of them. Lying on his back in that dim bedroom, he realized with a start that Ari was probably the first person he had really trusted in years. Fifty feet away, she was thinking the same thing about him. ---- When he wheeled himself out of the door into the living space, Ari was nowhere to be found. He looked around for a few seconds before rolling to her bedroom door. He’d never actually been inside since she’d moved in, he registered. His hand hovered in front of the door before knocking. “Come in,” she called out. He pushed the door open before rolling in. The room had been a small, relatively bare space originally; functionally identical to his, barring a few modifications for accessibility he’d had installed. A porthole window looking out over the glacial waters of the Norton Sound, a simple desk, a wardrobe, and a bed. Looking around, he noticed she’d added a few creature comforts. A decorative banner of a sports team he didn’t recognize hung over the bed, and she’d somehow gotten her hands on a gun case to contain her collection of firearms. There were pictures pinned to the walls — some featuring her, some not. Ari was standing in front of a full-length mirror that was leaning against the wall, still wearing her workout clothes. She turned when she saw his reflection. “Something up?” “No. Not really.” “Okay. I’ll be ready to rock in a second.” He nodded, but didn’t leave. Instead, he wheeled around the room, looking at the little knickknacks. There was a shard of what looked like pottery sitting on the desk; he picked it up. “What’s this?” “Ceramic shard from a bulletproof vest. First time I ever got shot, actually.” “That happen often?” “More than I’d like, less than you’d think.” He snorted, putting the shard back where it was and resuming his wandering around the room. “You’re freaking me out, chief.” “Sorry. It… occurred to me that I put my life in your hands every day, but I don’t really know you.” She cocked her head. “You’ve read my security profile.” “Not exactly a holistic way to figure out what makes a person tick.” She shrugged. “Well, what do you want to know?” “Family?” “You definitely know that.” “Sure, but I’d like to hear it in your words.” “My dad lives in a retirement community in Florida. He was in the Marines. Not the best dad in the world, for sure, but he did his best. Mom died when I was twenty-one.” “Condolences.” “It was a long time ago. I’ve got a younger brother, Alex. We don’t talk often, but he’s a good kid.” “What’s he up to?” “Marines, just like Dad.” O5-2 nodded slowly. He spied a plush giraffe sitting on Ari’s bed and raised an eyebrow at her. She returned the look, crossing her arms. “It was a birthday gift from my brother. What about you?” “Me?” “Family.” He shook his head. “You don’t really get to have a family as an O5. Luckily I didn’t have much of anyone to begin with, but I have an older sister somewhere. She thinks I’m dead.” “Jeez.” “It’s the price of power. I make sure she’s taken care of. She never has to worry about losing her job or going hungry.” “That’s good of you. Must be lonely, though.” He shrugged, turning the wheelchair around and heading for the door. “We chose lonely lives.” ---- Ari was leaning against the wall of the conference room, tuning out the white noise of another leadership meeting. Rita, Evie, Pierre, Chen, and occasionally the Director were exchanging talking points, debating project priorities and timelines and deadlines. Necessary stuff, the doldrum that kept RAISA running -- but nothing that interested her. She was pulled out of the reverie when O5-2 asked Chen for an update on “the GOC guy.” “I’m tapping into my connections,” Chen explained. “As far as I can tell, he hasn’t worked with the GOC for a while now. At least a year and a half.” Ari butted in. “He said that working with the Coalition was a ‘temporary arrangement’. Makes sense.” “Any idea where the target might be now?” O5-2 asked. Internally, Ari started at the use of the word ‘target’. It was a long time since she’d seen Farhan, but she didn’t want the next time to be after unzipping a body bag. “I have reason to believe he’s operating along Pakistan and India’s disputed border zone.” //Damnit.// Two mirrored her thoughts. “Lovely. He couldn’t have picked anywhere less tense, like the Gaza Strip?” “There are a few leads I’m following to pin down his exact location. I hope your friend can handle himself, Ari.” Chen looked up at her with full sincerity. “Kashmir has gotten ridiculously hot over the past few years. India, Pakistan, China, a PENTAGRAM psychoartillery unit, UNGOC peacekeepers, and Myrmidon and Valravn operating in the middle of it all. It’s the mother of all powder kegs.” She bit her lip. “And all it takes is one spark.” The Director nodded. “Hopefully we can blackbag him before it blows rather than after. Keep at it.” And then, just like that, Evie brought up something about a necessary patch to the SCiPnet numerical anomaly something-or-other, and the topic of Farhan was left in the wayside. Afterward, as she was following Two out, Rita touched her shoulder. The short machinist had her streaked hair tied back and a look of well-meaning concern on her face. “Hey, Cat!” “Cat?” “Y’know, cat, because Cat-saros! And because you’re like a cat.” “I am //not.//” “You definitely are! Silent, dark, brooding, moody, definitely a cat.” “I’m more of a dog person, actually,” she professed. “Anyway, what’s up?” “I just wanted to say, you okay?” //Tch.// She bit her tongue. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” “Good! Good, ‘cuz I just heard from Pierre about what happened the other day — I’m not cleared to know about combat operations, formally — and just, you know, don’t really know how that sort of thing can make you feel. Plus it’s been so busy lately with winter setting in and everything, we haven’t talked in a bit. Let’s grab a drink tonight?” “Um, sure.” “Great! Been a bit since we talked, I’ll get the whole gang together. We’ll make an evening out of it!” They stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before Two called from down the hall. Ari put up her hands. “Gotta go.” “Sure, sure! Go, do your job, I’ll shoot you a message later.” Ari’s brow furrowed as she followed the Overseer down the hall. “Don’t know what that was about. Hope it’s not anything serious.” Two sighed. “Really?” “What?” “She’s trying to be your friend. Even I know that, and my social circle extends to about thirteen people total.” “We //are// friends.” “You don’t get out much, do you?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize friendship isn’t a one-and-done affair for most people. It’s a muscle, one that needs regular exercise to stay useful.” He patted his thigh with a rueful smile. “Otherwise it atrophies.” She shrugged. “Way I see it, if you’re really friends, shouldn’t matter if you don’t talk to each other for a little while.” “Me too. But I think you forget most people aren’t like us.” She cocked her head down at him. “What are we like?” He shrugged evasively as they rolled into an elevator. Ari didn’t bother reaching for the screens — the tablet sitting in Two’s lap was connected to nearly every terminal and utility point in the site. He tapped something, and the elevator began to descend. “So what’s on the docket today?” “I have to head offsite for a bit. Take care of some stuff.” “What stuff?” “Clearance, Ari.” Something about his vaguity incensed her. Before she was fully aware what she was doing, she leaned forward and slammed a fist into the emergency stop button on the elevator panel. The elevator jerked to a halt, and O5-2 looked up at her in shock. She stared back at him accusingly. “Look.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “This is a two-way street. My job is protecting you. And if you don’t trust me, I can’t do my job.” “I do trust you.” It was the truth. “Then how come I’m always out of the circle? Why do I have to ask for clearance to accompany you on Council business? Why do we keep having little incidents like the one at STAG?” He didn’t respond. “You say you trust me, and maybe you do, but that doesn’t mean anything unless you act like it. Your Secretary is supposed to be your right hand, an extension of yourself. Let me do my job.” They were both silent for a few seconds, staring at one another. Finally, David broke it. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m still… learning how to do all this, I guess.” Ari’s shoulders relaxed. Her breath calmed down. “It’s fine. I just don’t want you to get into something where I can’t help you. I care about you, David.” “I care about you too.” They fell silent, and Ari pressed the button again. The elevator continued its descent. “So, let’s try that again. Where are we going?” “Site-7B.” She blinked. “What?” ---- “I didn’t know we had a satellite facility,” she said as the Condor descended. “Most people don’t. The Archival Office is by far our smallest section, but no less important.” “A whole 20% of the acronym.” He nodded as the quadcopter hit the landing pad with a shudder, rotors settling down. Ari pulled the door open, kicking the ramp out and looking around. Site-7B — what she could see of it, anyway — wasn’t much. There was a tiny barebones airstrip she’d seen flying in, and a dirt path connected it to this clearing. Besides the helipad, there were a couple of storage sheds, a trailer, and a chain-link fence encircling it all. Beyond that were just dense pine trees. In fact, the only thing of interest in sight was the cave. It was large — easily wide and tall enough to fit a truck through, but the entrance was completely blocked by a set of huge blast doors. As she watched, a guard spoke into his walkie-talkie, and the doors began to creak open inch-by-inch. “Hello!” She turned. There was an older woman standing a few feet behind her — she looked to be in her 60s, with a grey bun pierced through with a pen. There were crow’s feet around her eyes, and a warm smile on her face. “Ms. Katsaros, I presume?” she asked, extending a hand. “Hi. Yeah, call me Ari. Who…?” “Head Archivist Marina Maxwell. I’m in charge of this sector of the Site. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person.” They shook as Two rolled up to them. “Nice to see you’ve met.” “No thanks to you,” Maxwell ribbed gently. “Are we such an unlikeable lot that you have to sequester this nice young lady from us?” She had a laugh like falling water. “No, just… never really came up.” A heavy clunk interrupted them. The blast doors locked into place, fully open, revealing a natural tunnel descending into the rock face. The area in front of the entrance was surrounded by wire fences and floodlights illuminating it in harsh white, casting long shadows as they made their way in. Just before they entered, Maxwell stopped them. “I hate to ask this, hun. But we have a strict policy with regards to contaminants in the vault.” “Contaminants?” “Any foreign material, especially stuff that’s electronic or anomalous in nature.” Ari stared for a second, not understanding — then it clicked for her, at the same time time as it did for Two. “Come on, Marina. You can’t be serious.” “It’s fine,” Ari said, cutting him off. She reached her right hand over to her left, popping the clasps that kept her prosthetic attached to her bicep. The fingers went limp as the nervous connection was interrupted, then she slid it off. “I can go without it for a little bit.” Maxwell accepted it gingerly, handing it off to one of the staff members. “We’ll take good care of it for you. Now, shall we?” Ari shielded her eyes as they slipped in. The tunnel was wide, and had been partially expanded in places; the floor was concrete and metal panelling. The floor was at a downwards incline, and she wordlessly grasped one handle of Two’s wheelchair to avoid slippage. “What is this place?” she asked as they came to a freight elevator. This didn’t have any of the accoutrements of Site-7’s modern elevators; it looked like it belonged in a mine somewhere. Maxwell pressed one of the lower buttons, and the elevator began to rapidly descend. “He didn’t even tell you?” She made a slight noise of irritation, one hand reaching down to gently cuff the back of his head. “It slipped my mind. I’m just a little busier these days than I used to be,” he answered with a slight edge. She ignored him. “Well, sweetie, this is Site-7B: the RAISA Vault. When SCiPnet was first created in the seventies, Maria Jones was faced with the problem of digitizing all the paper records that we’d been using for so long. We needed some place to put the originals in case we ever needed to access them, but we also needed to make sure that they were completely protected against every kind of degradation.” “Stuffing them into a damp cave seems counterproductive,” she commented as the elevator came to a stop. “Not just any cave. The Deep Well cave complex is technically an anomaly; SCP-6784. The exact effects are… complicated, but the gist is that anomalous effects stop working inside the cave. That means they’re protected from anomalous forms of degradation; we’ve gone and reinforced that with a whole lot of technology.” They wandered out of the elevator. The floor they were on was similar to the one they’d entered in, except that on all sides, she was surrounded with shelves that went up to the cave ceiling. They were stacked high with cardboard file containers. A few archivists were wandering around, moving boxes from place to place or inspecting containers. Unlike the main-Site personnel, the archivists enjoyed a few creature comforts — climate control that afforded them the luxury of business casual wear, most notably. Ari looked at her own fatigue pants and sweater with a twinge of jealousy. “The DEEPWELL suite. It’s named after this place?” Maxwell smiled. “Smart girl!” “Place must be huge, to contain all these files.” Maxwell and Two exchanged a look. “It’s definitely bigger than you’d think,” she brushed off. Ari elected not to pry. They continued down the metal walkway. Ari couldn’t see a rhyme or reason to the organization of the shelves, but supposed there had to be one; the place was labyrinthine. They suddenly took a sharp left, veering into an aisle of shelves. Eventually, they stopped in front of one. “I’ll leave you to it, David.” Maxwell wandered away, not seeing Two scowling at her back. “So what’s the deal there?” “The deal?” “She clearly knows you.” “Oh. She was… a mentor, of sorts, when I worked here. Before I was offered the position. We were close. Worked together a lot. Helped me get my footing in the organization — before the meteoric rise up. ” He fell uncharacteristically silent for a second. “Right. Uh, what are we looking for?” “That box right there, with the tamper tape.” She spotted what he was talking about — getting it down was a mild struggle with only one hand, but she managed it, lowering it into his lap. He unceremoniously tore the seal, fingers digging through the files as he skimmed over them. She watched as his brow furrowed and his face contorted with worry. “What is it?” “You heard her whole spiel about how documents here can’t be altered? Cosmic insulation against ontological reality changes?” “Sure.” He plucked one paper out of the box, handing it to her. She looked it over. It was part of a personnel file, but had been haphazardly blanked out. Not redacted; the relevant information simply wasn’t there. A white gap — one that felt oddly familiar. She stared at it, and as she did, she faintly felt her surroundings fall away, giving way to a dull buzz building in the back of her head. It reminded her of the men without faces, the men that turned to look at her in the building and in the hanger and the men whose body bags she’d unzipped just a few short weeks ago. Identity sloughing off, like wet paint in the rain — clouding the waters and pooling in the gutter until they drained, drained away. “Ari?” She snapped out of it, handing the paper back to him. “That’s supposed to be impossible.” “It is. Moses ran a DNA test on the bodies that would’ve bounced back a ping //somewhere// unless they simply weren’t in any genetic database in the world.” “Or in one that we just don’t have access to.” He snorted. “The odds of that are — well, nonexistent. Anyway, it’s moot, because it did turn up a ping. In our database.” Ari’s eyes widened. “What?” “We make all personnel, especially in the Security Department, surrender a DNA sample upon hiring. You can imagine it comes in handy a lot. Moses didn’t have access to it, but it gave me this — a personnel file for a Mobile Task Force operator that should by all rights be digitized into SCiPnet, that’s not. I don’t even know how long this box has been here. The data is just… missing. Name, hiring date, supervisor, history, anything. I don’t understand. This shouldn’t be possible.” He stared at the box and the impossible paper in front of him, at a loss. “This is RAISA. This doesn’t happen here.” “What number?” “What?” “The MTF — what designation is it?” He looked at the paper again. “Delta-0. What’s Delta-0?” She stared back at him in confusion. “…We don’t have a Delta-0.” ---- A few hours later, they were sitting across from one another in the suite’s living room. Snow was beating down on the windows. “It doesn’t make sense,” Two said, not raising his gaze from the papers spread out in front of him. “It doesn’t,” Ari muttered in agreement. All she had in her hands was a mug of coffee. “Personnel that don’t exist — files that don’t exist — an entire task force that doesn’t exist. Maybe the first two, but the third isn’t something you can hide.” “Why not?” He looked up at her in confusion. “I know why not. Just, you know. Talking stuff out loud helps sometimes.” She continued sipping her coffee. Two nodded slowly. “Okay. Sure. Let’s talk it out. The REPLICA in Hokkaido was taken over by at least two… things, working with some degree of planning and organization.” She raised an eyebrow. “Things.” “What, do you have a better name for them?” She shrugged. “I’ve been calling them that word you used — infovores.” “Huh. I mean, I suppose it is techncially accurate — they consume people’s identities. Okay. Fine, infovores. Two infovores.” “You think it was just two of them?” “No. You don’t break into a Foundation facility with just two guys. I don’t care how many identities you eat.” “Okay, so there’s clearly some organization of them operating in conjunction. With the goal of… killing you, apparently. They were trying to lure you to the facility — and when that didn’t work, they tried to kill you at the airstrip.” “Why, though? Who would want to kill me? Moses already went over the most likely suspects — this isn’t GOC technology, Hand would never be this cloak-and-dagger, PENTAGRAM have no motive. Who else is there?” Ari found she had no answer. “Well, I don’t think either of us knows, so maybe shift gears: clearly these guys worked for us at some point in the past.” “That’s what the documents suggest, at least.” “Okay, so, sum them up for me.” “Personnel that don’t exist, leading us to files that don’t exist, leading us to a task force that doesn’t exist. You might be able to hide those first two, but an MTF? No chance.” He leaned back in his chair. “How did you know Delta-0 doesn’t exist, anyway?” “I was in the Security Department, remember? There aren’t any task forces with a dash-zero designation. There just aren’t. Everybody starts from dash-one. Even those guys,” she said, waving in the general direction of the Alpha-1 guards standing on the other side of the door. “None of this makes any sense,” Two reiterated. “It doesn’t,” Ari re-reiterated. They sat in silence for a few seconds before Ari spoke again. “Well. I know it’s impossible, but bear with me. Personnel that don’t exist and files that don’t exist could, feasibly, be hidden from you and everyone else if the person hiding them had a complex enough understanding of SCiPnet, right?” He grumbled, which she took as assent to the premise. “But a task force doesn’t work like that. You can’t just delete the file — there are mission orders, personnel records, requisitions, after-action reports. Entire supply lines and infrastructure for them, spreading across a dozen departments and divisions.” “Sure.” “Which means that in order to create a hidden task force, you’d need to redact that much information from across the entire Foundation. It needs an unparalleled level of influence, control…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes light up. He sat up straight. “A Council member.” “Bingo.” “That’s insane, though. Why would a Council member want me killed? I’ve only been on the Council for a year and a half. I don’t have the kind of enemies that Elev--” He cut himself off. “Don’t tell me it’s another clearance thing.” “No, no. Just, had an idea. Need to investigate it.” She nodded. “If this is a Council member — and I’m not saying it is, I’m just saying it’s a possibility — then you can’t trust… anyone. Seriously, you can’t bring this to a Council meeting, it’d be suicide.” “I know.” David was silent for a few seconds. “Well, I can think of one person I can trust.” In spite of the circumstance, Ari smiled. They lapsed back into silence before he broke it again a few seconds later. “So. We have a non-existent MTF made up of face-eaters who want to kill us, possibly with the backing and support of a sitting Overseer. They could be anyone, they could be anywhere, and a DNA test is the only way to identify them.” “Yup.” He sighed. “We’re really in the thick of it, aren’t we?” “Yup. But as far as places to be besieged, a fortress in the middle of the Arctic Ocean a hundred kilometers from the nearest sign of civilization and staffed with people utterly loyal to you is pretty good. Plus, look at the silver lining. If you get shot, you won’t have to go to any more Council meetings.” He smiled ruefully. “Could be worse.” She got to her feet, carrying the now-empty mug towards the kitchenette. But before that, she stopped next to him, placing a metal hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Then she walked away. ---- “In the middle of the Bering Sea and the beer is, somehow, still barely chilled. Astonishing.” Evie swirled her can around to underline the point. The four of them were sitting around a table in Site-7’s canteen. At this hour of the night, it was fairly busy; technicians and engineers coming down from their shifts to unwind with a glass of wine or a beer. There was no bartender; the entire system was automated, requiring only a few taps on a screen. It had taken the RAISA engineers all of half an hour to hack into it and serve themselves free beer when it was installed, she had been told. A terrible pop song from the 2000s was playing over the din of conversation. They were a few beers deep by now — not enough to get properly drunk, but just enough to have a light buzz going. “Well, if you’re not gonna finish it…” Rita said, making a playful grab at Evie’s can. Evie snatched it away, downing it and slamming the empty, unmarked aluminum can on the table. “She finished it,” Pierre noted duly. Ari laughed, and then they all laughed. “Busy week for you guys?” she asked. A chorus of noises sounded out around the table. “It’s always a busy week,” Evie said. “Same here.” “Not for me, actually,” Pierre offered. “Yeah, well, you have the easiest job here,” Rita shot back. Pierre looked offended at the suggestion, in his way, but to his credit, did not rise to the bait. Instead, Ari came to his rescue. “Hey, you try carrying that rifle around all day and barking orders.” “Being grumpy is a full-time position, my friends.” Ari took the last sip of her beer while they all laughed again. It occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she'd had close friends. Like this. She put the empty can down on the table, making it four. Then she planted her hand on the table, palm-up. The other three cheered, pushing their cans into the center. This was their favorite party trick. One by one, she planted them in the palm of her metal hand, then clamped it shut, crushing the cans into perfect little discs. “I got it.” She scooped them up, weaving through the techs standing and drinking, making her way to the recycling bin in the corner. Then she hit the automated bar again, swiping her card and watching as four more cans of beer were dispensed from the automated arm. Her ears perked up as she heard the room going silent behind her, turning around in confusion. Then she realized it wasn’t her they were going silent for. O5-2 wheeled himself into the canteen, stopping right past the threshold. The conversational din died down respectfully, a few folks even greeting him with raised glasses or cans. He had an odd look on his face as he scanned the crowd, and gave her a sharp head tilt after landing on her. She got the message, and quickly dropped the beers off back at the table. “Sorry, guys.” They were going to reassure her it was fine when Two cut them off. “They can come. And you can bring your beers.” They exchanged a look, but got to their feet, following him out of the door. The music and noise faded as they walked down the hallway, a generally-friendly but confused air about the group. Two led. “Where are we going?” “Bluefin.” Evie stifled a groan. “Long walk.” “We can take the chopper, if you’d like.” Ari cracked open her fresh beer. “We’ll walk.” ---- By the time they got the shipping and receiving platform, the respectful frost had mostly dissolved. They were drinking and laughing as they made their way down the walkways. They tried to offer Two a drink a few times, but he declined. “Not a drinker?” “Occasionally. Just not the stale pisswater the canteen stocks.” The unexpected vulgarity drew out another round of laughs from the group as they descended into the platform. The topside of Bluefin was mostly just a bunch of stacked shipping containers, but the underside of the platform was a maze of catwalks, walkways, freight elevators, and docks. Idly, Ari noted that the last time she had been here with Rita and Pierre, it had been when she was first brought aboard the Site. As they reached the bottom, she noticed another familiar sight in one of the docks: the snow-flecked hull of the //Teaser//. And, standing in front of it, her captain, looking as salt-grizzled as ever. “Rudy!” “Hey, kid.” They met each other with a firm handshake. Rudy looked down. “Good goddamn, what is //that// thing?” She raised her left hand, flexing the fingers. “My compensation. Part of it, anyway.” He let out a long, low whistle. “Damn. That is really quite impressive. Wow. Much better than my old thing.” “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.” “Oh, you know, busy busy. Still running supply from here to port. You?” She smiled. “Settled in pretty well.” Two rolled up next to them, making Rudy jump to stand up straight. “Hello, Rudy. You have the package?” “Uh, yeah, yeah, skipper.” He turned and gave a sharp whistle. They all watched as they heard a pattering noise, growing louder until a large Alsatian rounded the corner, bounding up to them with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. It gave a sharp, loud bark. Ari’s face lit up as she knelt down in front of the dog, ruffling its fur with her good hand. It barked happily at her again. It was wearing a vest, the kind bomb dogs wore — just “COMBAT UNIT” and a simple Site-7 patch sewn on. “Who’s this guy?” “I was thinking about the other day — how DNA identification is the only way to, you know,” Two explained, skirting around the topic while they had an audience. “But it occurred to me that STAG has had pretty consistent success in animals, particularly dogs, being able to detect people using memetic masks. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have one more layer of protection.” “That’s all?” “That, and I remember you saying you were a dog person.” She smiled. “What’s his name?” Two checked his tablet. “Probable Cause.” She jerked back towards him so fast her neck nearly snapped. “His name is //what?//” Two raised his hands. “He was a military dog. You know that sense of humor better than I do.” Ari scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Uh, we’ll call you PC for now, I guess.” PC barked in assent, then wandered over to the rest of the group, sniffing and inspecting them. Evie shied away; Pierre, bafflingly, held the dog’s gaze for a few seconds while Rita pet him. They were still playing with him when they heard the pitter-patter of feet behind them again — human, this time. Ari turned. It was Chen, looking slightly-out-of-breath. “Where have you guys been? I’ve been looking all over for you.” Two rolled forward. “What’s wrong?” But Chen wasn’t looking at him; he was staring straight ahead at Ari. “You’re gonna want to get your things. We found your friend.” [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/replica/site-7-icon.png width="75px"]] ---- [[div class="rnb-navbar"]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-last"]] [[a href="/autopsy" style="display: block;"]][[span class="rnb-supertitle"]]PREVIOUS[[/span]] << AUTOPSY >>[[/a]] [[/div]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-current site7nav"]] [[a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-7"]]SITE-7[[/a]] [[/div]] [[div class="rnb-item rnb-next"]] [[a href="/daemon" style="display: block;"]][[span class="rnb-supertitle"]]NEXT[[/span]] << DAEMON >>[[/a]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: autopsy.png > Author: [[user ROUNDERHOUSE]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 International > > This image is a composite of: > > Name: Boxes of archival documents.jpg > Author: Smallison > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boxes_of_archival_documents.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: site7.png > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/airgap SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-24T16:53:00	[ "_cc", "_cc4", "_licensebox", "researcher-rosen", "tale" ]	Site-7: SEGFAULT - SCP Foundation	63	[ "component:info-ayers", "autopsy", "secure-facility-dossier-site-7", "daemon", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "airgap" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-site-7", "redtape" ]	[]	1450929818	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/segfault
separate-ways	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3A3law/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/end-of-an-era">End of an Era</a> \| <span style="text-decoration: underline;">Separate Ways</span> \| TBD »</strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Creed</strong></p> </div> <p>August in Portland was hot and dry, the city baking in the sun of a cloudless sky. Traffic hummed and honked on the nearby Hawthorne and Marquam bridges, while children and their parents crowded the riverfront of the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. Despite the heat and lingering smell of human sweat, the air was abuzz with children's laughter and casual conversation. A long-retired submarine by the name of the USS <em>Blueback</em> waited for them in the murky water below. Eager to show them the tools of war from a bygone era, the sub was a staple exhibit for those making the trek to the museum.</p> <p>Slinking through that crowd was a team of three plainclothes agents. Each was a member of Task Force Tau-51. Or, as those in the know more fondly called it, "Urban Brawl." At their lead was a slender man with short blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were ringed by several weeks of limited sleep. A world of worry sat heavily on his brow. His name was Damian Creed, Tau-51's commander.</p> <p>"Alright, let's give this another try," he sighed and gestured for his two companions to follow. Without another word, they seamlessly wormed their way to the back of the main museum building, passing like ghosts out of sight of any onlooker.</p> <p>"How does this one work, Dwyer?" Creed asked, the trio stopping in front of a Staff Access door.</p> <p>"<a href="/the-analog-kid">Simple passphrase and key set up</a>," a stocky man with a shaved head replied. "But it is inside the maintenance corridors."</p> <p>Creed nodded and tugged at the handle. Locked.</p> <p>"Lawson?" he asked. A tall woman with black hair in a neat bun nodded and quickly set to work. Within moments the door opened.</p> <p>"Record time," Dwyer snickered.</p> <p>"It's a pretty shitty lock." Lawson stood up. "Though, to be fair, this isn't exactly 19. You're up."</p> <p>Creed nodded, stepping inside with a deep breath. The corridor soon arrived at a dead-end: a brickwork wall totally inconspicuous outside a small hole around chest height, roughly in the shape of a flower. Dwyer gingerly pulled out a small wire frame rose from their pocket and fit it into the indent.</p> <p>"Keep Portland Weird," Dwyer said as they stepped back from the wall. The three agents held their breath, waiting for something to happen. Seconds trickled into minutes. The brick wall remained unchanged.</p> <p>"Keep Portland Weird," Creed repeated. He approached the wall, pressing on the wire to make sure it was correctly placed in its slot.</p> <p>"Keep Portland Weird!" He shouted now, his hand flying back as he began to smack the artificial rose.</p> <p>"Keep! Portland! Weird!"</p> <p>The wall continued to remain unchanged. Creed looked at the tiny cut marks on his hand and clenched his fist. Another route to Three Portlands dead on arrival.</p> <p>"Another dud, Creed," Lawson said. "I think we need-"</p> <p>"No!" Creed snapped back. "We still have half the Ways in Washington Park we can check. We are not done yet!"</p> <p>"Creed, we've checked over two hundred of these things-" Dwyer began.</p> <p>"And we haven't even begun to touch all the ones in Old Town, let alone the Shang-Hai tunnels-" Creed still went on, ignoring the growing protests of his fellow agents.</p> <p>"Creed…"</p> <p>"One of them is bound to work!"</p> <p>"Creed!"</p> <p>"We just have to-"</p> <p>"Damian!"</p> <p>Creed stopped. His two companions frowned. Dwyer shook his head, while Lawson placed a hand on his shoulder.</p> <p>"Look, Creed," she went on, "I know you loved her, man. Who wouldn't? Ross was fantastic. But you need to face the music. She's gone. Three Portlands is gone."</p> <p>"No amount of Wayfinding is going to change that," Dwyer said. "It's a wild goose chase. I'm sorry."</p> <p>Creed looked between the two of them, then closed his eyes. He let out a sigh and shook his head.</p> <p>"You guys go home," he said softly. "I'm going to go check a few more."</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Ross</strong></p> </div> <p>International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology libraries were the dream of any scholar. Books upon books, scrolls upon scrolls, and all media in between on any subject mundane or occult stretching off into infinity, rivaled only by THE Library in terms of scope and breadth of knowledge. The ICSUT library at the Three Portlands campus was no different, with the added benefit of its location behind the veil allowing more unusual volumes to be stored there. Unfortunately, the year 2024 had not been kind to that temple of knowledge. <a href="/comedown-machine-hub">An incident resulting in the 'death' of the Mayor of Three Portlands</a> had set the world outside unglued. The very fabric of reality in the city was unraveling at the seams. Once dedicated staff of the library had long abandoned their posts to seek a lifeboat to flee the sinking ship. The numerous volumes were unattended and free for looting. That is if someone could dispatch the security golems that remained behind.</p> <p>Several of these very same golems recently began to litter the halls of the main lobby. One sprawled across the librarian's desk. A still steaming and crackling hole had been placed through its main chassis where a bolt of lighting had devastated its internal workings. Another had been slammed through a reference shelf. Its once glowing eyes were now dark. A burn mark had been placed on its head where a skilled hand had sucked out its life force. A third was partially melted to the floor, its one remaining arm left frozen as it attempted to desperately claw away. Several bullet holes in the back of its head indicated the fruitlessness of that endeavor. Finally, one was still standing at its original post. Scratches and gouges criss-crossed its external plating where a pack of wraiths had ambushed the poor machine before ripping out a handful of vital components. Standing in the center of this carnage, still panting from their efforts, were two women.</p> <p>The first had an athletic build and neck-length red hair. Her eyes were obscured behind thick goggles, and her work boots and plain clothes had been tattered across multiple weeks of fighting and surviving. A standard issue Foundation pistol was holstered on her left thigh, its supply of ammunition running increasingly short. A black glove, newly supporting several holes, adorned her left hand. Her name was Agent Beatrice Ross of MTF Tau-51, and she was an ICSUT-trained evoker.</p> <p>The second was a dark-skinned woman with a ravaged red raincoat. A skeletal raven sat perched on her shoulder. A heavy bag adorned her back, full to bursting with occult components of every kind. Multiple flasks of colored tonics and tinctures firmly rested in holders on her belt. A shotgun stolen from an owner now far too deceased to care was held tightly in her grip. Her name was Dr. Annabelle Lee, PhD. A private practice necromancer, also ICSUT-trained.</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>The skeletal raven left its perch and flew deeper into the library, leaving the two mages behind to survey their carnage.</p> <p>"I thought you said the plan was to do this quietly," Anabelle said with a sigh as she reloaded the shotgun. Just as with Ross's pistol, her supply of ammunition was running down. "Anyone within a mile of the campus would've heard all that."</p> <p>"Oh, I'm sorry," Beatrice shivered. Her body temperature slowly restored itself as the thaumatological backlash from her castings wore off. "I'm sure they'll be able to tell the difference between our explosions and the rest of the ones in the city. Besides, anyone who isn't stupid or insane is likely at the camps Thorne and the UIU have set up. We'll be fine for now. It's not like we haven't already had to deal with idiots thinking they're on Fury Road. Or paranoid assholes who think a studio apartment qualifies as a bomb shelter!"</p> <p>The agent approached the great oak doors at the entrance of the library and peered outside. Hills were appearing where there had once been fields. Trees ribboned and spiraled skyward before vanishing into the ether. Buildings warped in on themselves into Escherian shapes or slowly vanished toward singularities altogether. The footpaths around the campus turned tacky, like fly paper, or semi-solid like quicksand. Fortunately, the surplus of EVE that permanently surrounded the library seemed to ward off these effects. For now.</p> <p>Beatrice sighed and closed the great doors with a long creak. She quietly reset the latch, barring the chaos outside from entry.</p> <p>"Really think this will work?" the agent asked her companion. "We might not be able to get out of here if things go south."</p> <p>"Neither of us are conjurers," Anabelle shrugged, "so probably not. Still, if any Way was fortified enough to survive, I imagine that where the Library overlaps with Three Ports will probably be it. At the very least, we can try to send a message. Maybe."</p> <p>The skeletal raven returned and resumed its perch on the Necromancer's shoulder.</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>"Alright, the coast is clear. Let's see what we're working with."</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Creed</strong></p> </div> <blockquote> <p>Hey there, Damian.</p> <p>You and I always knew our time together would be limited. Just the shelf-life of MTF agents in the end. The question was always 50/50 as to who would leave who behind. <a href="/if-you-are-reading-this">If you are reading this</a> then I guess it must have been me. I'm also guessing that you must be absolutely hurting right now. I'm so sorry to have caused you such pain.</p> <p>Thank you for everything over these years. Of all the games we ended up playing for the Foundation, the ones I played with you were always my favorite. You made me feel welcomed and loved in ways that I hadn't been for a long time. I feel like it's not too much of a reach to say that feeling was mutual.</p> <p>Keep up the good fight.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p><em>Bea</em></p> </blockquote> <p>Agent Creed held the note tightly in his hands. His fingers trembled slightly as he read the words to himself over and over. The rest of Tau-51's shared office at Site-64 was empty, allowing him the chance to grieve in private as he put the final touches on Agent Ross's MIA report.</p> <p>He returned the note to its envelope in his inbox. He was unsure if it was something he should take home and frame, if only as a memento to her.</p> <p>"How are you holding up?"</p> <p>Creed snapped from his fugue to see Assistant Director Sasha Merlo. A sad smile appeared on her lips as she slowly approached the mourning commander.</p> <p>"I've been a hell of a lot better. We lost Three Portlands," he said. "And with it, my… most valuable agent."</p> <p>She placed a hand on his shoulder. He sighed and offered an empathetic smile in return.</p> <p>"How about you though?" he asked. "I know Holman was like a father to you. You holding up?"</p> <p>"Been a hell of a lot better, Creed," she replied in kind. "Certainly seems-"</p> <p>"It's ridiculous they handed over command to whoever this Moretti person is." Creed's voice raised as he cut her off. "Criminal even! If anyone was trained to take over after him, it was you. Fuck, that is what Holman himself would have wanted! We certainly have a way of shooting ourselves in the foot in the Foundation. God damn."</p> <p>Merlo chuckled.</p> <p>"To be honest, I'm not sure I would have wanted the job under these circumstances I'm not sure I'm the steady hand the site needs right now. We'll see."</p> <p>Creed shrugged.</p> <p>"Still, you're the real Site Director in my eyes. Always will be. Fuck the O5."</p> <p>"It really means a lot to hear you say that, Damian. You're too kind," Merlo said. She reached into her blazer pocket and placed a neatly folded piece of notepaper on the table. "Let me know if you or the rest of the Brawlers need anything. We have to stick together during these trying times."</p> <p>Merlo left the room soon after, leaving Creed behind to browse the note.</p> <blockquote> <p>Secret Crest Pub.<br/> Tonight at 2100.<br/> Ask for a Blackbird Special.<br/> Be prepared for possible interference in attending.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Ross</strong></p> </div> <p>Beatrice and Anabelle stood before an isolated door in an otherwise mundane alcove within the ICSUT library. A small keypad rested on the wall next to it. It had taken them two days to find out what the code had been changed to since both of them had graduated. Fortunately, Three Portlands was absolutely riddled with ghosts and long-passed spirits that a skilled necromancer could quickly bind to seek such things. Twenty minutes and a half-dozen spirits later, they had their answer: A sticky note left underneath a desk by a forgetful librarian with the last three codes written on it.</p> <p>Another day passed with both mages entering the empty closet behind the door and reiterating the passphrase in different ways: "By this art you may contemplate the variation of the twenty-three letters."</p> <p>Even with this effort, the two were only able to reach a frustrating conclusion. Despite this Way still occasionally sparking with activity, for all practical purposes it was as dead to them as a means of escaping Three Portlands. Still, the fact that there was still a hint of a connection to the Library suggested that perhaps they could at least jury-rig a one-way message to the world beyond.</p> <p>Anabelle sat at a nearby desk, poring over a stack of theoretical and applied conjuration texts. She scribbled out notes for a planned spell that likely would not work. Occasionally, she would take a break and glance out a window to examine the continued warping of the world outside. A strawberry pink smog had recently rolled into the surrounding neighborhood. Figures would dash in and out of it briefly. While they were hard to make out, the vast majority of them appeared to be security golems. She was never quite sure if it was a single golem she was seeing over and over again, or if someone was amassing an army just beyond their door.</p> <p>Beatrice returned from the depths of the library. A bag of supplies and components she had managed to scavenge from various nooks and crannies was slung over her shoulder.</p> <p>"So, what, we're just going to drop off a letter into the Library, and hope it makes it to its destination?" The agent placed the bag down gingerly, so as to not disturb the many fragile contents inside. "That's more of a longshot than any of my plans."</p> <p>"Things lost in the Library have a way of arriving at their appropriate destination if someone wants them to be found," Anabelle said. "And I don't hear you coming up with anything better. Perhaps instead of critiquing me your increasingly limited time would be better spent, I don't know, preparing the message you want to send?"</p> <p>Beatrice pulled out an envelope from her jacket pocket.</p> <p>"Already ahead of you."</p> <p>"Touche," the Necromancer chuckled. "Love letter to your boyfriend?"</p> <p>"A notice that Three Portlands is still here to the Foundation," Beatrice corrected. "We had a pretty solid interest in using Three Portlands as a containment cell of sorts. They <em>wouldn't</em> just let us vanish. Not Holman anyway."</p> <p>"How do you know the Foundation didn't cause this whole mess to begin with?" Anabelle asked. She raised an eyebrow and looked up from her notes. "You guys aren't exactly saints, and wiping Three Ports out of existence would save you all a lot of time, money, and headaches."</p> <p>"Kind of goes against the whole 'Protect' part of 'Secure. Contain. Protect.' Don't you think?" Beatrice asked. "We're not the Coalition. Not that you'd ever see the nuance…"</p> <p>Anabelle shrugged. "Look, all I am saying is don't hold out too much hope your boy toy and the rest of the Suits are going to come riding in here on a white steed."</p> <p>"Yeah? Okay! And who are you reaching out to, pray tell?"</p> <p>"Oh, just some colleagues I networked with a while ago." Anabelle smiled. "Big on serpents and their various appendages."</p> <p>The conversation stopped there as a large clatter filled the halls: The sound of the great oak doors of the library being blown in off their hinges. Anabelle's smile vanished.</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>The skeletal raven returned, flying in from its watch post at the library entrance.</p> <p>"We have guests," she said.</p> <p>"No shit?" Beatrice drew her pistol. She slid her letter in front of Anabelle. "How much time do you need me to buy you?"</p> <p>"20 minutes, maybe more. We should have everything now though."</p> <p>"You better get cracking then," Beatrice sighed. "Good luck."</p> <p>"You too, Bea."</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Creed</strong></p> </div> <p>Hot August days turned into hot August nights. This was <em>not</em>, however, why Agent Creed was sweating heavily as he weaved his way at a brisk pace through the crowded streets of Downtown Portland on foot. The reason - for both the sweat and the brisk pace - was the pair of individuals in nondescript clothes some twenty paces behind him. He already suspected it was no mere coincidence thirty minutes ago, but after having doubled back for a third time, now he was certain. They were tailing him.</p> <p><em>Going to need to make a break for it eventually…</em></p> <p>Creed picked up his pace and managed to barely cross the street before the light changed. A strong flow of traffic separated him and his stalkers. For the first time that night, he was able to finally get a good look at the two of them. Both were built like linemen and were cloaked in heavy dark jackets despite the heat. They frowned as he made eye contact with a fake smile and wave. Neither was kind enough to return the favor. As a truck passed through the intersection he turned to sprint away. He zigzagged through the crowds and nearby park to provide some minuscule degree of protection from simply being capped.</p> <p><em>Great going genius, now what the fuck is your plan? Hope they lose sight of you and just give up?</em></p> <p>As he emerged on the opposite side of the park, he felt panic rise in his stomach. His smile from before turned into a mouth agape. Two more stalkers appeared ahead of him on the path. This time one of them did wave, and offered a smug smile at his attempt to flee. She was a tan woman with short brunette hair and a jagged scar running from her right temple to the left side of his chin. Along with her partner, she drew a silenced pistol.</p> <p>The pair opened fire. Creed nearly slid on the pavement as he made a sharp turn. The brickwork behind him cratering as the rounds whizzed past, sending him darting down a nearby alley.</p> <p>Sprinting up its concrete path, he reached for his sidearm. As he did so, someone stepped out from behind a corner and grabbed him by his shirt. Using the agent's own momentum against him, Creed was to sent crashing into a nearby dumpster. The air left his lungs as he bounced off the green metal with a dull metallic thud. The sharp pain of what was one or two broken ribs followed. Creed's pistol slipped from his grip and clattered out of reach.</p> <p>He looked up to see the tan woman standing over him, pistol in hand. Terror filled his eyes as he briefly contemplated how she could have cut him off so quickly. The agent scampered backward on all fours. In a panic, Creed slammed his hand in his pocket. Crushing one of the contents, he quickly tossed it at his assailant. She watched it stick to her torso before she could step out of the way.</p> <p>Looking down, she saw a black orb. No bigger than a marble. A tool used by many Foundation operatives who needed to quickly get rid of a body. The stranger's color drained from her face as her eyes widened.</p> <p>"You fucking bastard," she managed to get out. Her form snapped and crackled as it collapsed into the marble. The orb itself vanished into a singularity prior to hitting the concrete. The hand that gripped the pistol was the only part to remain, neatly severed below the wrist in a clean, round cut.</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Upon her wrist, Creed noticed a familiar symbol tattooed: A right hand gripping a skyward facing arrow.</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Upon her wrist, Creed noticed a familiar symbol tattooed: A right hand gripping a skyward facing arrow.</a></div> </div> </div> <p>"Fuck me, I am so screwed!" the agent mumbled to himself.</p> <p>Footsteps could be heard approaching. Creed shakingly pried the pistol from the severed hand and leveled it at the bend in the alley. He opened fire before they even rounded the corner. The tan woman's partner arrived with only seconds to realize the tables had been turned. A series of dull thuds filled the air. Creed continued to pull the trigger on an empty magazine. Both assailants fell to the concrete below. Blood slowly pooled around them as the light left their eyes.</p> <p>The agent quickly got to his feet and threw the pistol away, collecting his own. It was at this point the remaining pair of stalkers phased through nearby walls, to cut off his path at the end of the alley. The pair opened fire upon him without a moment's hesitation. Creed zigzagged as he sprinted. Backtracking his way out of the alley, he emerged into the Portland city streets once more. He dashed into the traffic of the adjacent street, narrowly dodging the oncoming cars. A light-rail car had just pulled into the nearby stop.</p> <p>The agent used his last burst of speed to try and close the distance.</p> <p>"<tt>The doors are now closing.</tt>"</p> <p>The automated voice of the car sounded as Creed slammed into the other side of the interior. The doors sealed shut behind him. He struggled to catch his breath, watching from inside the railcar as it sailed away, leaving his stalkers behind.</p> <p>The agent ignored the dozen or so concerned looks he received from the other passengers and briefly closed his eyes.</p> <p>"Oh yeah," he said under ragged breath. "I'm fucking screwed."</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Ross</strong></p> </div> <p>Upon entering the main lobby of the ICSUT library, Beatrice found a tattered man, flanked by over half a dozen golems. The great doors of the library littered the floor around them in splinters as though each had been run through a wood chipper.</p> <p>He couldn't have been outside his 30s. Greasy blond hair was stringed behind him in an unpleasant mane. His jacket had the faded logo of Golemancy United on the lapel. Several guns covered his wiry frame as he finally noticed the agent slowly approaching him with a gun drawn. He snapped his fingers, setting one of the golems into a defensive stance in front of him. The remainder continued to ransack the lobby.</p> <p>"Library is closed at the moment," she said. "What's your business?"</p> <p>"How about names first?" he replied. "I'm Calvin."</p> <p>"What is your business here Calvin?" Beatrice maintained her aim.</p> <p>"Same as yours, I imagine." he smiled. "Access to the Way to the Library. A way out of this mess."</p> <p>"I feel for you, I really do," Beatrice said, "but for the foreseeable future that Way is in use. We have maybe one shot at what we are trying to pull, and I won't let you muck it up."</p> <p>"What I am hearing is that there is maybe one shot for me to get off this dumpster fire then." Calvin took a step forward. The golem did as well. A shot rang out from Beatrice's pistol, punching a hole through the automaton's chassis.</p> <p>"That's the only warning you're going to get," she said. "We are trying to send a message to people who can help us. All of us. I will not let you jeopardize that."</p> <p>"No one is coming," Calvin replied calmly. "A whole city vanishes out of reality and you think the people who could do something about that didn't notice? No one is coming for us, regardless of whether you can get a message out. Have you looked outside lately? It's everyone for themselves now. I killed a goddamn sphinx to get in here. I am not leaving empty-handed."</p> <p>Calvin snapped his fingers. All remaining golems dropped what they were doing, and set themselves into attack positions.</p> <p>"Last chance," he said. "Stand down."</p> <p>The agent lowered her pistol in her gloved hand, the other raising up in surrender.</p> <p>"Have it your way." she smiled. Then flicked a fireball into the crowd before her.</p> <p>Calvin remained still. His initial two golems obediently stepped in front of the blast and were subsequently reduced to molten bronze. He sighed and snapped his fingers once more. The remaining golem's eyes glowed red as they quickly set into attack mode, and set off after the evoker who was now fleeing deeper into the library.</p> <p>Beatrice shivered as she ran. She shook the thaumatological backlash from her frame as she rounded a corner and took aim.</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>The agent jumped. She swore under her breath as Anabelle's skeletal familiar landed on the bookshelf above her.</p> <p>"Tell Anabelle we have maybe five minutes before our guests are on top of us!" Beatrice shouted at the bird. "Urgency would be appreciated."</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>The bird flapped away swiftly. Beatrice fired the remaining contents of her magazine into the first approaching golem, stunning it long enough for her to send a bolt of lightning through its head.</p> <p>"Oh shit-"</p> <p>Beatrice's stomach dropped as she realized she had just taken the bait. The golem behind her most recent victim had already let out a mighty punch into the adjacent bookshelf, sending it toppling onto its neighbor like a domino set. The agent dove away from her collapsing barricade and kept running, fleeing further into the library once more.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>* * *</strong></p> </div> <p>Anabelle put the finishing touches on the teleportation sigil at the base of the Way and smiled to herself at a job well done. She began to turn for the final spell components when wings only she could hear swooped down onto her shoulder.</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>"Already? Goddess help me, she's supposed to be a fucking battle mage. Isn't this what she trained for?</p> <p>"<em>NEVERMORE!</em>"</p> <p>The necromancer let out a frustrated sigh and moved as quickly as she dared with how delicate her current surroundings were. Gingerly she placed a series of envelopes into the circle's center and closed the closet door. Channeling what little conjuration she remembered from school and her brief crash course over the last twenty-four hours, she intoned the Way's passphrase:</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em><strong>"By this art you may contemplate the variation of the twenty-three letters."</strong></em></p> </div> <p>The circle glowed a brilliant blue, then vanished with a clap of thunder. Anabelle quickly rushed and pressed the combination into the keypad. With bated breath opened the door.</p> <p>The envelopes were gone. As was the rest of the interior of the room. Ideally, both were now on a one-way trip to the Library.</p> <p>"Hells yes," she said with a sigh of relief.</p> <p>Her celebration was brief. A loud crash echoed down the hallway. A limping and bleeding Beatrice stumbled toward her with several golems in hot pursuit.</p> <p>"A little… assistance.. would be appreciated!" Her companion shouted between deep breaths as she struggled to keep ahead of the lumbering automatons behind her.</p> <p>"Get down!" she shouted in reply. Her eyes darkened until they were orbs as black as obsidian.</p> <p>Beatrice slid to the ground. A wave of purple energy rushed forth, soaking the closest two golems. Anabelle raised her shotgun and fired two shots. The slugs hit each golem square in the carapace, and upon exiting at the other side, carried their life force with them. The golems collapsed in a heap of parts.</p> <p>"Messages away," Anabelle said. She helped her companion to her feet. "Let's get out of here."</p> <p>The two dashed towards an exterior-facing window and smashed it. Anabelle tossed two of the bottles on her belt to the ground below, one blue, and one yellow. As soon as the tinctures inside contacted one another, they formed a thick green foam that rapidly expanded upward into a large cushion.</p> <p>Beatrice and Anabelle turned back. Calvin and four of his golems had just turned into view. The former's eyes seethed with rage. The latter drew four telescoping bronze javelins from compartments in their arms and leveled them in preparation to throw.</p> <p>"Kill them both."</p> <p>The two mages both flipped him the bird in unison before jumping to the awaiting safety below. Four javelins sailed above them harmlessly into the smog. From there, they put distance between themselves and the library.</p> <p>"Talk about out of the frying pan," Anabelle chuckled. "What now?"</p> <p>"I think we should pay Thorne a visit," Beatrice replied. "They'll want to know what we just did."</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Creed</strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Secret Crest Pub</strong><br/> <strong>~</strong><br/> <strong>Established 1971</strong></p> <p><em>Currently closed due to staff shortage - Will reopen tomorrow.</em></p> </blockquote> </div> <p>"Well, fuck," Creed mumbled. The agent slid down against the door, head in his hands. "That's just about how today has been, hasn't it."</p> <p>Several minutes passed. Eventually, he ceased feeling sorry for himself and pulled out his phone: an attempt to reach Merlo to see if things had been rescheduled. It was then the door behind him opened, causing him to tumble backward over the threshold.</p> <p>"What were you going to order?" a voice whispered.</p> <p>Creed peered upwards. A middle-aged bartender who looked inexplicably familiar stood over him, a revolver in hand. His gaze narrowed as he awaited Creed's reply.</p> <p>"I, uh, guess a Blackbird Special?" Creed stated. To his surprise, the old man stepped aside and offered him a hand up.</p> <p>"You're late. Hurry up and get to the basement, the last door down the hallway."</p> <p>Creed nodded and got to his feet. Had he more time he might have appreciated the charm of the bar itself, which would have reminded him of some of the old-school pubs he had seen in his many travels. Instead, he beelined to the basement door and promptly descended a well-lit stairwell into a musty, brick-lined basement. At its center was a large table covered in maps and documents. A corkboard adorned with countless faces connected by various colored strings adorned the far wall.</p> <p>"Glad you could finally join us, Creed," Sasha Merlo said, sitting near the far head of the table.</p> <p>Beside her, on her right, was a blond woman sporting thin-rimmed glasses and shoulder-length hair done back in a ponytail. Creed recognized her as Agent Clarissa Shaw, MTF Commander of Gamma-13. Across the table from her was a pale, gangly man with messy hair and deep rings of sleep deprivation around his eyes. Creed recognized him as well: Researcher Jacob Conwell, of the Site-64 Anomalous Materials lab. Interspersed between them were several other agents and researchers Creed had seen around Site-64, but either due to obligation or circumstance had never had the opportunity to formally meet.</p> <p>"So what is all this then?" Creed asked. "And why the flying fuck were Alpha-1 agents trying to grab me this evening?"</p> <p>"They were the ones who killed Holman," said Merlo. "And because I picked up where he left off they are going to kill us too <em>if</em> we're not careful."</p> <p>Creed nodded along.</p> <p>"Yeah, okay…" he said, "but why?"</p> <p>The eyes around the table looked down, different amounts of regret, sadness, and rage coming over everyone else in the room.</p> <p>"Because," Merlo finally answered. "The Foundation is purging itself of anyone sympathetic to the anomalous. Which, by the nature of your relationship with Ross, includes you. The disappearance of Three Portlands at the same time is also no coincidence."</p> <p>Creed's mouth hung open. He made several attempts to speak, but for once in his life he was fully without words.</p> <p>"Welcome aboard, Damian."</p> <hr/> <p>As Dr. Annabelle Lee has once stated, things lost in the Library had a habit of arriving at their intended destination, so long as the person who left them there wanted them to be found. Whether this was the work of the many Librarians, magic, or another force entirely was still a hotly debated topic in some cells of the Serpent's Hand. The academics would have been <em>quite</em> interested, then, in the unmarked envelope that arrived, completely unseen by any security cameras, in Agent Damian Creed's inbox within the depths of Site-64</p> <p>The contents, when the agent finally returned and had a chance to open it, were a densely packed handwritten letter that began:</p> <blockquote> <p><em>Damian,</em></p> <p><em>I'm writing this from inside Three Portlands. All of us, the people who live in the city, are still here. We are still alive…</em></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="/end-of-an-era">End of an Era</a> \| <span style="text-decoration: underline;">Separate Ways</span> \| TBD »</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/separate-ways">Separate Ways</a>" by Jacob Conwell, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/separate-ways">https://scpwiki.com/separate-ways</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:3law">theme:3law</a>]] [[=]] << [[[End of an Era]]] \| __Separate Ways__ \| TBD >> [[/=]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] Creed [[/=]] August in Portland was hot and dry, the city baking in the sun of a cloudless sky. Traffic hummed and honked on the nearby Hawthorne and Marquam bridges, while children and their parents crowded the riverfront of the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. Despite the heat and lingering smell of human sweat, the air was abuzz with children's laughter and casual conversation. A long-retired submarine by the name of the USS //Blueback// waited for them in the murky water below. Eager to show them the tools of war from a bygone era, the sub was a staple exhibit for those making the trek to the museum. Slinking through that crowd was a team of three plainclothes agents. Each was a member of Task Force Tau-51. Or, as those in the know more fondly called it, "Urban Brawl." At their lead was a slender man with short blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were ringed by several weeks of limited sleep. A world of worry sat heavily on his brow. His name was Damian Creed, Tau-51's commander. "Alright, let's give this another try," he sighed and gestured for his two companions to follow. Without another word, they seamlessly wormed their way to the back of the main museum building, passing like ghosts out of sight of any onlooker. "How does this one work, Dwyer?" Creed asked, the trio stopping in front of a Staff Access door. "[[[The Analog Kid\|Simple passphrase and key set up]]]," a stocky man with a shaved head replied. "But it is inside the maintenance corridors." Creed nodded and tugged at the handle. Locked. "Lawson?" he asked. A tall woman with black hair in a neat bun nodded and quickly set to work. Within moments the door opened. "Record time," Dwyer snickered. "It's a pretty shitty lock." Lawson stood up. "Though, to be fair, this isn't exactly 19. You're up." Creed nodded, stepping inside with a deep breath. The corridor soon arrived at a dead-end: a brickwork wall totally inconspicuous outside a small hole around chest height, roughly in the shape of a flower. Dwyer gingerly pulled out a small wire frame rose from their pocket and fit it into the indent. "Keep Portland Weird," Dwyer said as they stepped back from the wall. The three agents held their breath, waiting for something to happen. Seconds trickled into minutes. The brick wall remained unchanged. "Keep Portland Weird," Creed repeated. He approached the wall, pressing on the wire to make sure it was correctly placed in its slot. "Keep Portland Weird!" He shouted now, his hand flying back as he began to smack the artificial rose. "Keep! Portland! Weird!" The wall continued to remain unchanged. Creed looked at the tiny cut marks on his hand and clenched his fist. Another route to Three Portlands dead on arrival. "Another dud, Creed," Lawson said. "I think we need-" "No!" Creed snapped back. "We still have half the Ways in Washington Park we can check. We are not done yet!" "Creed, we've checked over two hundred of these things-" Dwyer began. "And we haven't even begun to touch all the ones in Old Town, let alone the Shang-Hai tunnels-" Creed still went on, ignoring the growing protests of his fellow agents. "Creed..." "One of them is bound to work!" "Creed!" "We just have to-" "Damian!" Creed stopped. His two companions frowned. Dwyer shook his head, while Lawson placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Creed," she went on, "I know you loved her, man. Who wouldn't? Ross was fantastic. But you need to face the music. She's gone. Three Portlands is gone." "No amount of Wayfinding is going to change that," Dwyer said. "It's a wild goose chase. I'm sorry." Creed looked between the two of them, then closed his eyes. He let out a sigh and shook his head. "You guys go home," he said softly. "I'm going to go check a few more." ------ [[=]] Ross [[/=]] International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology libraries were the dream of any scholar. Books upon books, scrolls upon scrolls, and all media in between on any subject mundane or occult stretching off into infinity, rivaled only by THE Library in terms of scope and breadth of knowledge. The ICSUT library at the Three Portlands campus was no different, with the added benefit of its location behind the veil allowing more unusual volumes to be stored there. Unfortunately, the year 2024 had not been kind to that temple of knowledge. [[[comedown-machine-hub\|An incident resulting in the 'death' of the Mayor of Three Portlands]]] had set the world outside unglued. The very fabric of reality in the city was unraveling at the seams. Once dedicated staff of the library had long abandoned their posts to seek a lifeboat to flee the sinking ship. The numerous volumes were unattended and free for looting. That is if someone could dispatch the security golems that remained behind. Several of these very same golems recently began to litter the halls of the main lobby. One sprawled across the librarian's desk. A still steaming and crackling hole had been placed through its main chassis where a bolt of lighting had devastated its internal workings. Another had been slammed through a reference shelf. Its once glowing eyes were now dark. A burn mark had been placed on its head where a skilled hand had sucked out its life force. A third was partially melted to the floor, its one remaining arm left frozen as it attempted to desperately claw away. Several bullet holes in the back of its head indicated the fruitlessness of that endeavor. Finally, one was still standing at its original post. Scratches and gouges criss-crossed its external plating where a pack of wraiths had ambushed the poor machine before ripping out a handful of vital components. Standing in the center of this carnage, still panting from their efforts, were two women. The first had an athletic build and neck-length red hair. Her eyes were obscured behind thick goggles, and her work boots and plain clothes had been tattered across multiple weeks of fighting and surviving. A standard issue Foundation pistol was holstered on her left thigh, its supply of ammunition running increasingly short. A black glove, newly supporting several holes, adorned her left hand. Her name was Agent Beatrice Ross of MTF Tau-51, and she was an ICSUT-trained evoker. The second was a dark-skinned woman with a ravaged red raincoat. A skeletal raven sat perched on her shoulder. A heavy bag adorned her back, full to bursting with occult components of every kind. Multiple flasks of colored tonics and tinctures firmly rested in holders on her belt. A shotgun stolen from an owner now far too deceased to care was held tightly in her grip. Her name was Dr. Annabelle Lee, PhD. A private practice necromancer, also ICSUT-trained. "//NEVERMORE!//" The skeletal raven left its perch and flew deeper into the library, leaving the two mages behind to survey their carnage. "I thought you said the plan was to do this quietly," Anabelle said with a sigh as she reloaded the shotgun. Just as with Ross's pistol, her supply of ammunition was running down. "Anyone within a mile of the campus would've heard all that." "Oh, I'm sorry," Beatrice shivered. Her body temperature slowly restored itself as the thaumatological backlash from her castings wore off. "I'm sure they'll be able to tell the difference between our explosions and the rest of the ones in the city. Besides, anyone who isn't stupid or insane is likely at the camps Thorne and the UIU have set up. We'll be fine for now. It's not like we haven't already had to deal with idiots thinking they're on Fury Road. Or paranoid assholes who think a studio apartment qualifies as a bomb shelter!" The agent approached the great oak doors at the entrance of the library and peered outside. Hills were appearing where there had once been fields. Trees ribboned and spiraled skyward before vanishing into the ether. Buildings warped in on themselves into Escherian shapes or slowly vanished toward singularities altogether. The footpaths around the campus turned tacky, like fly paper, or semi-solid like quicksand. Fortunately, the surplus of EVE that permanently surrounded the library seemed to ward off these effects. For now. Beatrice sighed and closed the great doors with a long creak. She quietly reset the latch, barring the chaos outside from entry. "Really think this will work?" the agent asked her companion. "We might not be able to get out of here if things go south." "Neither of us are conjurers," Anabelle shrugged, "so probably not. Still, if any Way was fortified enough to survive, I imagine that where the Library overlaps with Three Ports will probably be it. At the very least, we can try to send a message. Maybe." The skeletal raven returned and resumed its perch on the Necromancer's shoulder. "//NEVERMORE!//" "Alright, the coast is clear. Let's see what we're working with." ------ [[=]] Creed [[/=]] > Hey there, Damian. > > You and I always knew our time together would be limited. Just the shelf-life of MTF agents in the end. The question was always 50/50 as to who would leave who behind. [[[If you are reading this]]] then I guess it must have been me. I'm also guessing that you must be absolutely hurting right now. I'm so sorry to have caused you such pain. > > Thank you for everything over these years. Of all the games we ended up playing for the Foundation, the ones I played with you were always my favorite. You made me feel welcomed and loved in ways that I hadn't been for a long time. I feel like it's not too much of a reach to say that feeling was mutual. > > Keep up the good fight. > > Love, > > //Bea// Agent Creed held the note tightly in his hands. His fingers trembled slightly as he read the words to himself over and over. The rest of Tau-51's shared office at Site-64 was empty, allowing him the chance to grieve in private as he put the final touches on Agent Ross's MIA report. He returned the note to its envelope in his inbox. He was unsure if it was something he should take home and frame, if only as a memento to her. "How are you holding up?" Creed snapped from his fugue to see Assistant Director Sasha Merlo. A sad smile appeared on her lips as she slowly approached the mourning commander. "I've been a hell of a lot better. We lost Three Portlands," he said. "And with it, my... most valuable agent." She placed a hand on his shoulder. He sighed and offered an empathetic smile in return. "How about you though?" he asked. "I know Holman was like a father to you. You holding up?" "Been a hell of a lot better, Creed," she replied in kind. "Certainly seems-" "It's ridiculous they handed over command to whoever this Moretti person is." Creed's voice raised as he cut her off. "Criminal even! If anyone was trained to take over after him, it was you. Fuck, that is what Holman himself would have wanted! We certainly have a way of shooting ourselves in the foot in the Foundation. God damn." Merlo chuckled. "To be honest, I'm not sure I would have wanted the job under these circumstances I'm not sure I'm the steady hand the site needs right now. We'll see." Creed shrugged. "Still, you're the real Site Director in my eyes. Always will be. Fuck the O5." "It really means a lot to hear you say that, Damian. You're too kind," Merlo said. She reached into her blazer pocket and placed a neatly folded piece of notepaper on the table. "Let me know if you or the rest of the Brawlers need anything. We have to stick together during these trying times." Merlo left the room soon after, leaving Creed behind to browse the note. > Secret Crest Pub. > Tonight at 2100. > Ask for a Blackbird Special. > Be prepared for possible interference in attending. ------ [[=]] Ross [[/=]] Beatrice and Anabelle stood before an isolated door in an otherwise mundane alcove within the ICSUT library. A small keypad rested on the wall next to it. It had taken them two days to find out what the code had been changed to since both of them had graduated. Fortunately, Three Portlands was absolutely riddled with ghosts and long-passed spirits that a skilled necromancer could quickly bind to seek such things. Twenty minutes and a half-dozen spirits later, they had their answer: A sticky note left underneath a desk by a forgetful librarian with the last three codes written on it. Another day passed with both mages entering the empty closet behind the door and reiterating the passphrase in different ways: "By this art you may contemplate the variation of the twenty-three letters." Even with this effort, the two were only able to reach a frustrating conclusion. Despite this Way still occasionally sparking with activity, for all practical purposes it was as dead to them as a means of escaping Three Portlands. Still, the fact that there was still a hint of a connection to the Library suggested that perhaps they could at least jury-rig a one-way message to the world beyond. Anabelle sat at a nearby desk, poring over a stack of theoretical and applied conjuration texts. She scribbled out notes for a planned spell that likely would not work. Occasionally, she would take a break and glance out a window to examine the continued warping of the world outside. A strawberry pink smog had recently rolled into the surrounding neighborhood. Figures would dash in and out of it briefly. While they were hard to make out, the vast majority of them appeared to be security golems. She was never quite sure if it was a single golem she was seeing over and over again, or if someone was amassing an army just beyond their door. Beatrice returned from the depths of the library. A bag of supplies and components she had managed to scavenge from various nooks and crannies was slung over her shoulder. "So, what, we're just going to drop off a letter into the Library, and hope it makes it to its destination?" The agent placed the bag down gingerly, so as to not disturb the many fragile contents inside. "That's more of a longshot than any of my plans." "Things lost in the Library have a way of arriving at their appropriate destination if someone wants them to be found," Anabelle said. "And I don't hear you coming up with anything better. Perhaps instead of critiquing me your increasingly limited time would be better spent, I don't know, preparing the message you want to send?" Beatrice pulled out an envelope from her jacket pocket. "Already ahead of you." "Touche," the Necromancer chuckled. "Love letter to your boyfriend?" "A notice that Three Portlands is still here to the Foundation," Beatrice corrected. "We had a pretty solid interest in using Three Portlands as a containment cell of sorts. They //wouldn't// just let us vanish. Not Holman anyway." "How do you know the Foundation didn't cause this whole mess to begin with?" Anabelle asked. She raised an eyebrow and looked up from her notes. "You guys aren't exactly saints, and wiping Three Ports out of existence would save you all a lot of time, money, and headaches." "Kind of goes against the whole 'Protect' part of 'Secure. Contain. Protect.' Don't you think?" Beatrice asked. "We're not the Coalition. Not that you'd ever see the nuance..." Anabelle shrugged. "Look, all I am saying is don't hold out too much hope your boy toy and the rest of the Suits are going to come riding in here on a white steed." "Yeah? Okay! And who are you reaching out to, pray tell?" "Oh, just some colleagues I networked with a while ago." Anabelle smiled. "Big on serpents and their various appendages." The conversation stopped there as a large clatter filled the halls: The sound of the great oak doors of the library being blown in off their hinges. Anabelle's smile vanished. "//NEVERMORE!//" The skeletal raven returned, flying in from its watch post at the library entrance. "We have guests," she said. "No shit?" Beatrice drew her pistol. She slid her letter in front of Anabelle. "How much time do you need me to buy you?" "20 minutes, maybe more. We should have everything now though." "You better get cracking then," Beatrice sighed. "Good luck." "You too, Bea." ------ [[=]] Creed [[/=]] Hot August days turned into hot August nights. This was //not//, however, why Agent Creed was sweating heavily as he weaved his way at a brisk pace through the crowded streets of Downtown Portland on foot. The reason - for both the sweat and the brisk pace - was the pair of individuals in nondescript clothes some twenty paces behind him. He already suspected it was no mere coincidence thirty minutes ago, but after having doubled back for a third time, now he was certain. They were tailing him. //Going to need to make a break for it eventually...// Creed picked up his pace and managed to barely cross the street before the light changed. A strong flow of traffic separated him and his stalkers. For the first time that night, he was able to finally get a good look at the two of them. Both were built like linemen and were cloaked in heavy dark jackets despite the heat. They frowned as he made eye contact with a fake smile and wave. Neither was kind enough to return the favor. As a truck passed through the intersection he turned to sprint away. He zigzagged through the crowds and nearby park to provide some minuscule degree of protection from simply being capped. //Great going genius, now what the fuck is your plan? Hope they lose sight of you and just give up?// As he emerged on the opposite side of the park, he felt panic rise in his stomach. His smile from before turned into a mouth agape. Two more stalkers appeared ahead of him on the path. This time one of them did wave, and offered a smug smile at his attempt to flee. She was a tan woman with short brunette hair and a jagged scar running from her right temple to the left side of his chin. Along with her partner, she drew a silenced pistol. The pair opened fire. Creed nearly slid on the pavement as he made a sharp turn. The brickwork behind him cratering as the rounds whizzed past, sending him darting down a nearby alley. Sprinting up its concrete path, he reached for his sidearm. As he did so, someone stepped out from behind a corner and grabbed him by his shirt. Using the agent's own momentum against him, Creed was to sent crashing into a nearby dumpster. The air left his lungs as he bounced off the green metal with a dull metallic thud. The sharp pain of what was one or two broken ribs followed. Creed's pistol slipped from his grip and clattered out of reach. He looked up to see the tan woman standing over him, pistol in hand. Terror filled his eyes as he briefly contemplated how she could have cut him off so quickly. The agent scampered backward on all fours. In a panic, Creed slammed his hand in his pocket. Crushing one of the contents, he quickly tossed it at his assailant. She watched it stick to her torso before she could step out of the way. Looking down, she saw a black orb. No bigger than a marble. A tool used by many Foundation operatives who needed to quickly get rid of a body. The stranger's color drained from her face as her eyes widened. "You fucking bastard," she managed to get out. Her form snapped and crackled as it collapsed into the marble. The orb itself vanished into a singularity prior to hitting the concrete. The hand that gripped the pistol was the only part to remain, neatly severed below the wrist in a clean, round cut. [[collapsible show="+ Upon her wrist, Creed noticed a familiar symbol tattooed: A right hand gripping a skyward facing arrow." hide="- Upon her wrist, Creed noticed a familiar symbol tattooed: A right hand gripping a skyward facing arrow."]] [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/task-forces/Alpha1.png]] [[/=]] [[/collapsible]] "Fuck me, I am so screwed!" the agent mumbled to himself. Footsteps could be heard approaching. Creed shakingly pried the pistol from the severed hand and leveled it at the bend in the alley. He opened fire before they even rounded the corner. The tan woman's partner arrived with only seconds to realize the tables had been turned. A series of dull thuds filled the air. Creed continued to pull the trigger on an empty magazine. Both assailants fell to the concrete below. Blood slowly pooled around them as the light left their eyes. The agent quickly got to his feet and threw the pistol away, collecting his own. It was at this point the remaining pair of stalkers phased through nearby walls, to cut off his path at the end of the alley. The pair opened fire upon him without a moment's hesitation. Creed zigzagged as he sprinted. Backtracking his way out of the alley, he emerged into the Portland city streets once more. He dashed into the traffic of the adjacent street, narrowly dodging the oncoming cars. A light-rail car had just pulled into the nearby stop. The agent used his last burst of speed to try and close the distance. "{{The doors are now closing.}}" The automated voice of the car sounded as Creed slammed into the other side of the interior. The doors sealed shut behind him. He struggled to catch his breath, watching from inside the railcar as it sailed away, leaving his stalkers behind. The agent ignored the dozen or so concerned looks he received from the other passengers and briefly closed his eyes. "Oh yeah," he said under ragged breath. "I'm fucking screwed." ------ [[=]] Ross [[/=]] Upon entering the main lobby of the ICSUT library, Beatrice found a tattered man, flanked by over half a dozen golems. The great doors of the library littered the floor around them in splinters as though each had been run through a wood chipper. He couldn't have been outside his 30s. Greasy blond hair was stringed behind him in an unpleasant mane. His jacket had the faded logo of Golemancy United on the lapel. Several guns covered his wiry frame as he finally noticed the agent slowly approaching him with a gun drawn. He snapped his fingers, setting one of the golems into a defensive stance in front of him. The remainder continued to ransack the lobby. "Library is closed at the moment," she said. "What's your business?" "How about names first?" he replied. "I'm Calvin." "What is your business here Calvin?" Beatrice maintained her aim. "Same as yours, I imagine." he smiled. "Access to the Way to the Library. A way out of this mess." "I feel for you, I really do," Beatrice said, "but for the foreseeable future that Way is in use. We have maybe one shot at what we are trying to pull, and I won't let you muck it up." "What I am hearing is that there is maybe one shot for me to get off this dumpster fire then." Calvin took a step forward. The golem did as well. A shot rang out from Beatrice's pistol, punching a hole through the automaton's chassis. "That's the only warning you're going to get," she said. "We are trying to send a message to people who can help us. All of us. I will not let you jeopardize that." "No one is coming," Calvin replied calmly. "A whole city vanishes out of reality and you think the people who could do something about that didn't notice? No one is coming for us, regardless of whether you can get a message out. Have you looked outside lately? It's everyone for themselves now. I killed a goddamn sphinx to get in here. I am not leaving empty-handed." Calvin snapped his fingers. All remaining golems dropped what they were doing, and set themselves into attack positions. "Last chance," he said. "Stand down." The agent lowered her pistol in her gloved hand, the other raising up in surrender. "Have it your way." she smiled. Then flicked a fireball into the crowd before her. Calvin remained still. His initial two golems obediently stepped in front of the blast and were subsequently reduced to molten bronze. He sighed and snapped his fingers once more. The remaining golem's eyes glowed red as they quickly set into attack mode, and set off after the evoker who was now fleeing deeper into the library. Beatrice shivered as she ran. She shook the thaumatological backlash from her frame as she rounded a corner and took aim. "//NEVERMORE!//" The agent jumped. She swore under her breath as Anabelle's skeletal familiar landed on the bookshelf above her. "Tell Anabelle we have maybe five minutes before our guests are on top of us!" Beatrice shouted at the bird. "Urgency would be appreciated." "//NEVERMORE!//" The bird flapped away swiftly. Beatrice fired the remaining contents of her magazine into the first approaching golem, stunning it long enough for her to send a bolt of lightning through its head. "Oh shit-" Beatrice's stomach dropped as she realized she had just taken the bait. The golem behind her most recent victim had already let out a mighty punch into the adjacent bookshelf, sending it toppling onto its neighbor like a domino set. The agent dove away from her collapsing barricade and kept running, fleeing further into the library once more. [[=]] *** * * [[/=]] Anabelle put the finishing touches on the teleportation sigil at the base of the Way and smiled to herself at a job well done. She began to turn for the final spell components when wings only she could hear swooped down onto her shoulder. "//NEVERMORE!//" "Already? Goddess help me, she's supposed to be a fucking battle mage. Isn't this what she trained for? "//NEVERMORE!//" The necromancer let out a frustrated sigh and moved as quickly as she dared with how delicate her current surroundings were. Gingerly she placed a series of envelopes into the circle's center and closed the closet door. Channeling what little conjuration she remembered from school and her brief crash course over the last twenty-four hours, she intoned the Way's passphrase: [[=]] //"By this art you may contemplate the variation of the twenty-three letters."// [[/=]] The circle glowed a brilliant blue, then vanished with a clap of thunder. Anabelle quickly rushed and pressed the combination into the keypad. With bated breath opened the door. The envelopes were gone. As was the rest of the interior of the room. Ideally, both were now on a one-way trip to the Library. "Hells yes," she said with a sigh of relief. Her celebration was brief. A loud crash echoed down the hallway. A limping and bleeding Beatrice stumbled toward her with several golems in hot pursuit. "A little... assistance.. would be appreciated!" Her companion shouted between deep breaths as she struggled to keep ahead of the lumbering automatons behind her. "Get down!" she shouted in reply. Her eyes darkened until they were orbs as black as obsidian. Beatrice slid to the ground. A wave of purple energy rushed forth, soaking the closest two golems. Anabelle raised her shotgun and fired two shots. The slugs hit each golem square in the carapace, and upon exiting at the other side, carried their life force with them. The golems collapsed in a heap of parts. "Messages away," Anabelle said. She helped her companion to her feet. "Let's get out of here." The two dashed towards an exterior-facing window and smashed it. Anabelle tossed two of the bottles on her belt to the ground below, one blue, and one yellow. As soon as the tinctures inside contacted one another, they formed a thick green foam that rapidly expanded upward into a large cushion. Beatrice and Anabelle turned back. Calvin and four of his golems had just turned into view. The former's eyes seethed with rage. The latter drew four telescoping bronze javelins from compartments in their arms and leveled them in preparation to throw. "Kill them both." The two mages both flipped him the bird in unison before jumping to the awaiting safety below. Four javelins sailed above them harmlessly into the smog. From there, they put distance between themselves and the library. "Talk about out of the frying pan," Anabelle chuckled. "What now?" "I think we should pay Thorne a visit," Beatrice replied. "They'll want to know what we just did." ------ [[=]] Creed [[/=]] [[=]] > Secret Crest Pub > ~ > Established 1971 > > //Currently closed due to staff shortage - Will reopen tomorrow.// [[/=]] "Well, fuck," Creed mumbled. The agent slid down against the door, head in his hands. "That's just about how today has been, hasn't it." Several minutes passed. Eventually, he ceased feeling sorry for himself and pulled out his phone: an attempt to reach Merlo to see if things had been rescheduled. It was then the door behind him opened, causing him to tumble backward over the threshold. "What were you going to order?" a voice whispered. Creed peered upwards. A middle-aged bartender who looked inexplicably familiar stood over him, a revolver in hand. His gaze narrowed as he awaited Creed's reply. "I, uh, guess a Blackbird Special?" Creed stated. To his surprise, the old man stepped aside and offered him a hand up. "You're late. Hurry up and get to the basement, the last door down the hallway." Creed nodded and got to his feet. Had he more time he might have appreciated the charm of the bar itself, which would have reminded him of some of the old-school pubs he had seen in his many travels. Instead, he beelined to the basement door and promptly descended a well-lit stairwell into a musty, brick-lined basement. At its center was a large table covered in maps and documents. A corkboard adorned with countless faces connected by various colored strings adorned the far wall. "Glad you could finally join us, Creed," Sasha Merlo said, sitting near the far head of the table. Beside her, on her right, was a blond woman sporting thin-rimmed glasses and shoulder-length hair done back in a ponytail. Creed recognized her as Agent Clarissa Shaw, MTF Commander of Gamma-13. Across the table from her was a pale, gangly man with messy hair and deep rings of sleep deprivation around his eyes. Creed recognized him as well: Researcher Jacob Conwell, of the Site-64 Anomalous Materials lab. Interspersed between them were several other agents and researchers Creed had seen around Site-64, but either due to obligation or circumstance had never had the opportunity to formally meet. "So what is all this then?" Creed asked. "And why the flying fuck were Alpha-1 agents trying to grab me this evening?" "They were the ones who killed Holman," said Merlo. "And because I picked up where he left off they are going to kill us too //if// we're not careful." Creed nodded along. "Yeah, okay..." he said, "but why?" The eyes around the table looked down, different amounts of regret, sadness, and rage coming over everyone else in the room. "Because," Merlo finally answered. "The Foundation is purging itself of anyone sympathetic to the anomalous. Which, by the nature of your relationship with Ross, includes you. The disappearance of Three Portlands at the same time is also no coincidence." Creed's mouth hung open. He made several attempts to speak, but for once in his life he was fully without words. "Welcome aboard, Damian." ------ As Dr. Annabelle Lee has once stated, things lost in the Library had a habit of arriving at their intended destination, so long as the person who left them there wanted them to be found. Whether this was the work of the many Librarians, magic, or another force entirely was still a hotly debated topic in some cells of the Serpent's Hand. The academics would have been //quite// interested, then, in the unmarked envelope that arrived, completely unseen by any security cameras, in Agent Damian Creed's inbox within the depths of Site-64 The contents, when the agent finally returned and had a chance to open it, were a densely packed handwritten letter that began: > //Damian,// > > //I'm writing this from inside Three Portlands. All of us, the people who live in the city, are still here. We are still alive...// ------ [[=]] << [[[End of an Era]]] \| __Separate Ways__ \| TBD >>** [[/=]] ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-23T16:53:00	[ "_licensebox", "agent-merlo", "fantasy", "otherworldly", "post-apocalyptic", "tale", "third-law", "wanderers-library" ]	Separate Ways - SCP Foundation	21	[ "end-of-an-era", "the-analog-kid", "comedown-machine-hub", "if-you-are-reading-this", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "third-law-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "comedown-machine-hub" ]	[]	1447825640	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/separate-ways
shape-shift-with-me	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Awilsons/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="psuedocrumbs" style="margin-top: -2em"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="/fading-stars-hub">Fading Stars Hub</a> / <a href="/unconditional-love-hub">Unconditional Love Hub</a> » Shape Shift With Me</p> </div> <br/> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>A lone truck bearing the Wilson's Wildlife Solutions logo sat in a field on the outskirts of Boring. Tim Wilson, the head honcho of the Center, paced around the vehicle. Faeowynn Wilson, his daughter and second in command, sat on the hood of the truck. She looked on as her father walked about in front of her, occasionally itching at his beard and taking a little sip from his canteen.</p> <p>"Dad, you need to relax," Fae urged him.</p> <p>"You know how I get when the Supervisors are about! They make my heartburn flare up," Tim replied, not looking at her as he continued his looping march.</p> <p>"I know. Did you take your meds?"</p> <p>"No! I didn't think to bring them to work because I didn't expect the Supervisors to come knocking today!"</p> <p>"You need to be more responsible with your medication, dad. When was the last time you went to see your PCP?"</p> <p>"Oh, you know I've never been much for going to the doctor. I take care of myself. It's just… the Supervisors. They make me—"</p> <p>"Anxious."</p> <p>"I wouldn't call it anxiety, caterpillar. I just get too excited when the Supervisors are about."</p> <p>"Dad, that's anxiety."</p> <p>Tim made a sound halfway between a pshaww and a raspberry. Fae sighed and leaned back on the hood of the truck, removing her hat from her head and placing it over her face to block out the sun. They remained in silence for a few minutes before Tim spotted a helicopter flying in from the north.</p> <p>"Here we go," he swallowed nervously.</p> <p>Faeowynn sat up and put her hat back on, sliding off the truck as the helicopter neared. It was sleek, black, futuristic looking, and even had the Supervisors' logo on the side of it. The roaring of the blades deafened them as the helicopter touched down a few hundred feet away. Slowly but surely, the blades stopped spinning and the door of the airborne vehicle slid open as Tim and Fae began their approach.</p> <p>The first person to emerge was a familiar face; Mr. Roger Tarpan, the liaison between the Center and the Supervisors. He looked to have lost a little bit of weight since they had last met, his diet seemed to be working well for him. Next to come out was another familiar face; a slender person missing their right arm; Doctor Jay Everwood. They were one of the people assigned to oversee the Center's operations, among many other things.</p> <p>The third and final person to exit the helicopter gave the Wilsons some pause. His skin was red and he had horns and a tail; was this a demon? Tim hesitated in his approach, but Faeowynn continued. She had seen weirder things.</p> <p>"Hello! How are you two doing? It's been a while, hasn't it?" Everwood shouted as both groups began closing the distance between each other.</p> <p>"Hello, Doctor Everwood! Yeah, it has been, hasn't it?" She waved.</p> <p>Tim lagged behind slightly, having finally recovered from seeing a demon exit the helicopter. He wiped the sweat from his brow and continued forward. Finally, they met in the middle of the field, with Tim joining the group after a minute. He and Roger shook hands, Fae and Everwood exchanged meaningful looks, and the demon hung back, appearing too timid to introduce himself.</p> <p>"You're looking good, Roger." Tim tried avoiding making eye contact with the musclebound red man behind Roger.</p> <p>"Thank you, Tim. Not as good as you, I don't keep as active as you do, heh." Mr. Tarpan smiled.</p> <p>"How was your flight over?" Fae asked Everwood.</p> <p>"It was long, but I had good company." They turned to point to the demon, who waved shyly.</p> <p>"Oh?" Both Tim and Fae perked up.</p> <p>"Yeah! I'd like you both to meet Doctor Faran Caraway." Everwood gently tugged at Caraway, bringing him forward to meet the Wilsons. He obliged, sheepishly smiling and nodding.</p> <p>"Faran, these are Tim and Faeowynn Wilson, the showrunners of Wilson's Wildlife Solutions." Mr. Tarpan spoke up, pointing at Tim and Faeowynn respectively.</p> <p>"Hello, it's lovely to meet you two." Caraway's voice was soft and gentle, like a summer breeze.</p> <p>"Lovely to meet you too, Doctor Caraway." Fae smiled politely.</p> <p>"So are you a demon or something?" Tim asked bluntly.</p> <p>"Dad!" Fae turned to face him, staring daggers into him.</p> <p>"No, it's okay. I get that question a lot. I'm a shapeshifter, and this is my chosen form." Caraway did his best to hide his slight discontent, but Faeowynn and Everwood picked up on it.</p> <p>"Why don't we get to the Center, hmm?" Everwood suggested, attempting to take control of the conversation.</p> <p>"Good idea. Come on, let's go." Fae motioned for the group to head back to the truck.</p> <hr/> <p>A short truck ride later (with Caraway having been forced to sit in the bed due to his bulk), they were at the Center. Faeowynn, being the woman behind the paperwork, went into the office with Everwood and Mr. Tarpan in tow, leaving Caraway and Tim alone in the reception area. They sat in uncomfortable silence while Tim refilled his canteen using the water fountain.</p> <p>"So, uh… Why did you come here?" Tim turned to face Caraway, who was busy eyeballing a corkboard full of pictures of critters and volunteers.</p> <p>"Oh, I, err, I wanted to see how you handled the animals. I handle anomalous animals back at Site-58 and I figured seeing you folks in action would help me do my job better. I'm still relatively new to it, so—"</p> <p>"Why didn't you just say so? Come on, let me show you the pens!" He plugged his canteen and strung it over his shoulder, starting towards the entrance to the critter's area.</p> <p>"I, whuh, okay!" Caraway followed, a bit shocked that connecting with Tim had been that easy.</p> <p>Tim led him outside towards a pen housing a beagle. He rubbed his hands together, then grabbed the padlock on the gate and input the number '1221'. The canine within perked its ears up and approached the gate, barking excitedly.</p> <p>"Hey, <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/perfil-de-la-criatura-thor">Thor</a>! Who's a good boy?" Tim mirrored the animal's excitement as he opened the gate and walked in. Caraway followed after him, smiling slightly as Tim sat down on the concrete and was viciously lick-attacked by the dog. "Thor, this is Doctor Caraway, Doctor Caraway, this is Thor!" He laughed as Thor rolled onto his back, exposing his belly.</p> <p>"What a handsome dog," Caraway commented, squatting beside Tim. He stretched out his hand to rub Thor's belly, who responded by sticking out his tongue happily. "What are his anomalous properties?"</p> <p>"You mean his abilities? Well, Thor here can detect electromagnetic waves with his nose, and can shock you with a bark. But he wouldn't do that to us, wouldn't he? Because he's such a good boy! Yes he is, isn't he?" Tim reached forward and patted Thor's head, making his ears flop to and fro.</p> <p>"Cool! Back at 58, we've classified several <a href="/scp-6968">previously unknown species of animals</a>. It's been interesting work, to say the least."</p> <p>"New critters, eh? Sounds exciting. How do you figure out how to take care of them?"</p> <p>"Well, that part was certainly a challenge. Not every animal is the same, you know?"</p> <p>"Of course. A lot of our critters are rescues that often require special care. Care to share an example of one of those critters you have over in… where was it, Site-58?"</p> <p>"Yeah, 58. And no, I don't think I can, sorry. It's classified."</p> <p>"Oh, come now, Doctor. Surely you can share one little snippet with me? It's not like I'll tell anyone. Besides, we both work for the same organization. And we're both men in charge of critters, aren't we?"</p> <p>Caraway was silent for a moment as he considered Tim's words. He continued to rub Thor's belly; the dog was beyond delighted at this.</p> <p>"Fine. But just one."</p> <p>"That's all I wanted to hear!"</p> <p>"You ever hear of a squonk?"</p> <p>"No, can't say I have. Elucidate me, Doctor."</p> <p>"They're little animals that are covered in warts and are always crying. They hate being seen and will cry even harder when viewed, to the point where they can even dissolve themselves into tears if escape seems impossible for them."</p> <p>"Poor little guys."</p> <p>"I've been working on rehabilitating some of them into being okay with being perceived, but it's slow-going."</p> <p>"I can imagine. Have you ever tried to wean a bear off of cigarettes?"</p> <p>"You what?"</p> <p>"<a href="/critter-profile-maya">Yeah.</a>"</p> <p>Caraway blinked in surprise.</p> <p>"So, Mr. Wilson—"</p> <p>"Please, call me Tim."</p> <p>"… sure, Tim, tell me. How do you handle the animals in your possession?"</p> <p>"With tender love and care, of course. We vet all our volunteers to ensure they are good, kind people with love in their hearts for the animals they will be taking care of. That's the only way to take care of critters, isn't it?" Tim smiled, continuing to flop Thor's ears.</p> <p>Caraway was quiet. The Foundation didn't seem to think so. They were cold and calculating in how they cared for anomalous animals under their care. They calculated exactly how much enrichment they needed daily down to the second, weighed their daily food intake to calculate the perfect amount necessary for proper nutrition and not any more, and even disallowed most individuals from forming attachments to them by cycling personnel frequently.</p> <p>"… Yeah." Caraway sighed.</p> <p>"What's the matter?"</p> <p>"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."</p> <p>"I'll tell you what. I never expected to meet one of the Supervisors who cared about critters like I do. All they're interested in is numbers. That's why I let Fae take care of them most of the time. She's got a head for numbers, I don't." Tim sighed as well.</p> <p>"…Really?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I won't lie, at first, I was a little apprehensive of you. It's not that I'm religious or anything, I'm a spiritual person, sure, but seeing someone who looks like you is a little shocking!" Tim laughed.</p> <p>"I… I guess that makes sense."</p> <p>There was a brief silence between them, interrupted only by Thor's panting.</p> <p>"You're not like the Supervisors, Doctor Caraway."</p> <p>"I'm not?"</p> <p>"You've got a spark of love for the critters. Don't abandon it. For their sake."</p> <p>The two sat in silence for a while until Thor sneezed.</p> <p>"Bless you, Thor," they said simultaneously. They both laughed.</p> <hr/> <p>After spending a few hours with Tim and the animals, Everwood and Mr. Tarpan came out escorted by Faeowynn. They found the two near the large animal enclosures watching as Alex Molina fed Maya the bear.</p> <p>"Mr. Wilson, I do believe its time to give Roger and I a tour of the facilities." Everwood beckoned as they approached.</p> <p>"Righto. Need to make sure our money is being spent properly." Tarpan nodded.</p> <p>"Very well, no problemo, friends! Sorry to leave you like this, Doctor Caraway, but I have business to attend to." Tim pat him on the back, heading towards the two people he dreaded seeing most. "Shall we begin with the large animal enclosures? We're already here," he spoke, leading them away.</p> <p>Faeowynn remained in place, looking over to Caraway.</p> <p>"Do you want to come over to the Center? It's hot and you've been out here for hours. I'm sure you would like a drink of water." She smiled politely.</p> <p>"Sure," he returned the smile.</p> <p>The two walked back to the Center, which had mostly been cleared out of volunteers and employees for the day. Only Old Al and Nandini remained, hanging out near the front desk and chatting about a recent football game. Caraway ducked his head down to the fountain's level and pressed the activation button, taking a long sip of water as he did so.</p> <p>Faeowynn folded her arms as she looked him over.</p> <p>"So you're a shapeshifter, huh?"</p> <p>Finishing his drink, Caraway stood back up to his full height, roughly equal to that of Faeowynn. He nodded, wiping his mouth.</p> <p>"How long have you known?"</p> <p>"Ever since I was little."</p> <p>"Me too! I'm a bit of a shapeshifter myself." Faeowynn laughed.</p> <p>"Really?" Caraway's eyes brightened for a moment.</p> <p>"No, not really. According to my dad, I am though. I didn't always have breasts if you know what I mean."</p> <p>"Oh."</p> <p>"I wish I were, though. It would have made my life so much easier." She motioned for him to follow her, which he did. Fae led him to her office, which was a bit hot and stuffy as the air conditioning for that part of the building was broken. Once they arrived, she motioned for him to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.</p> <p>"Transforming is quite painful for me. I don't like doing it, but I can."</p> <p>"My transformation wasn't easy either. Lost a lot of friends, spent a good portion of my life pretending to be someone I wasn't."</p> <p>"I can imagine. My sister is also transgender."</p> <p>"Oh? That's cool." Fae sat down behind her desk, which was full of paperwork Tim had neglected to do as usual.</p> <p>"My dad wasn't so cool about it."</p> <p>"Neither was mine. He still deadnames me sometimes. I've been Faeowynn longer than this Center has stood here and he still does it. I know he doesn't mean ill, but it still hurts, you know?"</p> <p>"I'm sorry. Faeowynn is a beautiful name, by the way."</p> <p>"Thank you." She grinned, leaning forward to start rifling through paperwork. "I picked it myself."</p> <p>"So, uh, do you work with the animals at all?" Caraway asked, tugging at his shirt collar. The heat was getting to him.</p> <p>"Yeah, when I can free myself from the paperwork I tend to a few of them. But today I had to go over the budget and expansion plans with Jay and Roger. My dad… he gets anxious when he has to deal with the Supervisors, so he has me do it most of the time."</p> <p>"Ah. I mostly deal with animals back at 58. Your dad likes me more than he seems to like Doctor Everwood and Mr. Tarpan."</p> <p>"You have the gift for animals, it seems. My dad is very good at picking up on that with people. I guess that's why the Center has lasted as long as it has." Fae set down the paper she was looking at and clasped her hands together, then turned her gaze to Caraway. "You can take your shirt off if you want. I know it's really hot in here. I'm used to it."</p> <p>"Oh god, thank you." Caraway wasted no time in removing his button-up and tossing it to the other chair beside him. He wore a grey tank top underneath, and his muscles glistened under the fluorescent light. Fae gawked for a moment but then noticed a tattoo on his bicep reading 'SCP' followed by a few numbers. She knew that the Supervisors referred to the things they contained as SCP's, and classified them by number.</p> <p>"Doctor Caraway, may I ask you a personal question?"</p> <p>"Uh, sure."</p> <p>"Why do you have a tattoo of an SCP designation?" Faeowynn questioned, trying to moderate her tone to be as gentle as possible.</p> <p>"I uh, well, I am an SCP object."</p> <p>"I thought the Supervisors kept SCPs in cages, not employed them."</p> <p>"Well… they did do that to me. Until recently, anyway. They started this whole thing called the Integration Program, which is meant to… Actually, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to talk about this. Sorry. You know how secretive the Foundation is."</p> <p>"Ah, yes. I won't press you. Though I think I get the gist. Sorry about asking you like that."</p> <p>"No it's okay, I just don't want to get you or myself in trouble. I'm supposed to be on my best behavior since I'm setting an example for all the other anomalies that are part of the Integration Program and… it's a lot. During the ride over from 64, Mr. Tarpan was saying how he doesn't trust anomalies to be Foundation employees. And Everwood is nice and all, but I can tell they have their doubts about the Integration Program. It's all just so much pressure to be the best little poster boy ever, and I can't be perfect all the time, you know?" Caraway sighed, burying his face in his hands.</p> <p>"I know what you mean. I have to be on my best behavior all the time too or I'm considered a 'crazy transgender' and suddenly I'm not allowed to have rights. Not to mention the pressure to perform from the Supervisors."</p> <p>"At least I don't have to deal with the public. If I had to deal with the Foundation's pressure and the civilian public, I think I would break in half."</p> <p>"They're alright most of the time, despite this being small-town America." Fae chuckled, reaching into her bottom drawer. She pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. "I normally only do this with my boyfriend, but you and I, we're kindred spirits, Doctor Caraway," she continued, pouring two shots, one for each of them. She slid the glass across the desk to him. "To us shapeshifters who must be perfect all the time."</p> <p>Caraway smiled, taking the shot. They clinked their glasses together and downed the spirit. Fae seemed to take it well enough, but Caraway hacked a cough.</p> <p>"I don't think I'll ever get used to alcohol," he coughed again.</p> <p>"It's an acquired taste. It's honestly better that you don't. I'm just a bitter old woman who drinks the pain away." Faeowynn shrugged.</p> <p>"You're not even that old."</p> <p>"Older than you, Mr. Muscleman," she laughed.</p> <p>Caraway grinned, setting the glass back on the desk. "You know, both you and your dad are wonderful people. It's a shame you don't see eye to eye with each other."</p> <p>Fae placed her glass on the desk as well. "Maybe. At the end of the day, we still love each other though. And I know I'll have him supporting me, even if he doesn't get me, just like I'll be here to help him with the Center."</p> <p>"I think it's lovely that you have a family to help you. I wish I were allowed to have mine."</p> <p>"You must miss your sister a lot."</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>Silence. Caraway and Faeowynn both struggled to find something to say for a minute.</p> <p>"Look… I… I know that this is cold comfort, but not all family is blood. Maybe we could write to each other. I'd like to be your friend, if you'd allow me to be." Faeowynn offered, smiling meekly over at Caraway.</p> <p>Silence again.</p> <p>"Fuck it, it's better than nothing," he shrugged, leaning over the desk to look for something to write on. "Let me give you my internal email. From what I understand you guys here at Wilson's can email us too. Or at lest that's what I understood from what Everwood was saying on the ride over." With the assistance of Fae, he found a pen and the back of a business card and scrawled down his email.</p> <p>"Excellent." Fae smiled, taking the business card and taping it to her laptop screen. "You'll be hearing from me soon."</p> <p>"Actually, can you do me a favor?"</p> <p>"Sure, what's up?"</p> <p>"Can you share that email with your dad too? He and I… I dunno. I feel like we kind of get each other. I'd like to talk to him too."</p> <p>"Oh, sure. Look at us, becoming a weird little family. You're like the fifth Wilson!"</p> <p>"Fifth?"</p> <p>"Oh, I take it you didn't meet Robin and Anders?"</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"Maybe some other time. But for now, I'm glad to have a new pen pal," Faeowynn grinned. "I have some other weird pen pals too, you know. No one I can really talk about, though. It's uh, <a href="/a-welcome-distraction">top</a> <a class="newpage" href="/faeowynn-wilsons-first-tamalada">secret</a> stuff."</p> <p>Caraway quirked an eyebrow. Fae winked.</p> <p>"Care to elaborate?" He pressed.</p> <p>"Nope," she smiled. "And honestly, I don't think you want to know."</p> <p>"Fine. I trust you."</p> <hr/> <p>A few hours later, the group had gotten together and were at the field on the outskirts of Boring again. The sky was dark and the fireflies were out in force, at least until the roar of the blades of the helicopter sent them scattering.</p> <p>Everwood and Mr. Tarpan shook hands with Tim and Faeowynn before leaving for their transport. Caraway remained, looking back at the two. Tim approached him and shook his hand happily, leaning in to whisper-shout something over the blades spinning.</p> <p>"Don't lose your spark, Doctor Caraway."</p> <p>Caraway nodded meaningfully before turning to Faeowynn. She shook his hand wordlessly but with a knowing smile.</p> <p>"Take care, Caraway." She moved back to where Tim had retreated to and the two of them waved goodbye as Faran Caraway got into the helicopter. He waved back before closing the door behind him and strapping himself in.</p> <p>"I can't wait to get back to 64." Mr. Tarpan said, sighing deeply.</p> <p>"And I to 55. But I think Faran and I are going to layover at 64 for the night. I'm pooped and making the flight over the country back to 55 and 58 would be hellish under these conditions." Everwood finished strapping themselves in, getting comfortable. They turned to face Caraway, who was just getting ready to secure the straps around himself. "So what do you think of the Wilsons? Learn anything interesting you're going to take back to your work at 58?" Everwood asked.</p> <p>"No, not really," he lied with a smile.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Uncle Nicolini's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6938">SCP-6938</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-020-j">SCP-020-J</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-mystery-j">SCP-MYSTERY-J</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4026">SCP-4026</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3863">SCP-3863</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1799">SCP-1799</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/nicos-proposal-ii">Nico's Proposal II</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4432">SCP-4432</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1542">SCP-1542</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-pl-274">SCP-PL-274</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4982">SCP-4982</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-es-113">SCP-ES-113</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2983">SCP-2983</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-726-ex">SCP-726-EX</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7926">SCP-7926</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/surprise-happy-birthday-12">Surprise! 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Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/shape-shift-with-me">https://scpwiki.com/shape-shift-with-me</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:wilsons">:scp-wiki:theme:wilsons</a>]] [[module CSS]] .collection .collapsible-block-unfolded-link a , .collection .collapsible-block-folded a { background-color: #c8e293 !important; color: #665731 !important; } .titlecolumn { background-color: #c8e293 !important; color: #665731 !important; } .namerow { background-color: #c8e293 !important; color: #665731 !important; } .namerow a { color: #148c14 !important; } [[/module]] [[div class="psuedocrumbs" style="margin-top: -2em"]] @@ @@ [[[Fading Stars Hub]]] / [[[Unconditional Love Hub]]] >> Shape Shift With Me [[/div]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] @@ @@ A lone truck bearing the Wilson's Wildlife Solutions logo sat in a field on the outskirts of Boring. Tim Wilson, the head honcho of the Center, paced around the vehicle. Faeowynn Wilson, his daughter and second in command, sat on the hood of the truck. She looked on as her father walked about in front of her, occasionally itching at his beard and taking a little sip from his canteen. "Dad, you need to relax," Fae urged him. "You know how I get when the Supervisors are about! They make my heartburn flare up," Tim replied, not looking at her as he continued his looping march. "I know. Did you take your meds?" "No! I didn't think to bring them to work because I didn't expect the Supervisors to come knocking today!" "You need to be more responsible with your medication, dad. When was the last time you went to see your PCP?" "Oh, you know I've never been much for going to the doctor. I take care of myself. It's just... the Supervisors. They make me--" "Anxious." "I wouldn't call it anxiety, caterpillar. I just get too excited when the Supervisors are about." "Dad, that's anxiety." Tim made a sound halfway between a pshaww and a raspberry. Fae sighed and leaned back on the hood of the truck, removing her hat from her head and placing it over her face to block out the sun. They remained in silence for a few minutes before Tim spotted a helicopter flying in from the north. "Here we go," he swallowed nervously. Faeowynn sat up and put her hat back on, sliding off the truck as the helicopter neared. It was sleek, black, futuristic looking, and even had the Supervisors' logo on the side of it. The roaring of the blades deafened them as the helicopter touched down a few hundred feet away. Slowly but surely, the blades stopped spinning and the door of the airborne vehicle slid open as Tim and Fae began their approach. The first person to emerge was a familiar face; Mr. Roger Tarpan, the liaison between the Center and the Supervisors. He looked to have lost a little bit of weight since they had last met, his diet seemed to be working well for him. Next to come out was another familiar face; a slender person missing their right arm; Doctor Jay Everwood. They were one of the people assigned to oversee the Center's operations, among many other things. The third and final person to exit the helicopter gave the Wilsons some pause. His skin was red and he had horns and a tail; was this a demon? Tim hesitated in his approach, but Faeowynn continued. She had seen weirder things. "Hello! How are you two doing? It's been a while, hasn't it?" Everwood shouted as both groups began closing the distance between each other. "Hello, Doctor Everwood! Yeah, it has been, hasn't it?" She waved. Tim lagged behind slightly, having finally recovered from seeing a demon exit the helicopter. He wiped the sweat from his brow and continued forward. Finally, they met in the middle of the field, with Tim joining the group after a minute. He and Roger shook hands, Fae and Everwood exchanged meaningful looks, and the demon hung back, appearing too timid to introduce himself. "You're looking good, Roger." Tim tried avoiding making eye contact with the musclebound red man behind Roger. "Thank you, Tim. Not as good as you, I don't keep as active as you do, heh." Mr. Tarpan smiled. "How was your flight over?" Fae asked Everwood. "It was long, but I had good company." They turned to point to the demon, who waved shyly. "Oh?" Both Tim and Fae perked up. "Yeah! I'd like you both to meet Doctor Faran Caraway." Everwood gently tugged at Caraway, bringing him forward to meet the Wilsons. He obliged, sheepishly smiling and nodding. "Faran, these are Tim and Faeowynn Wilson, the showrunners of Wilson's Wildlife Solutions." Mr. Tarpan spoke up, pointing at Tim and Faeowynn respectively. "Hello, it's lovely to meet you two." Caraway's voice was soft and gentle, like a summer breeze. "Lovely to meet you too, Doctor Caraway." Fae smiled politely. "So are you a demon or something?" Tim asked bluntly. "Dad!" Fae turned to face him, staring daggers into him. "No, it's okay. I get that question a lot. I'm a shapeshifter, and this is my chosen form." Caraway did his best to hide his slight discontent, but Faeowynn and Everwood picked up on it. "Why don't we get to the Center, hmm?" Everwood suggested, attempting to take control of the conversation. "Good idea. Come on, let's go." Fae motioned for the group to head back to the truck. ----- A short truck ride later (with Caraway having been forced to sit in the bed due to his bulk), they were at the Center. Faeowynn, being the woman behind the paperwork, went into the office with Everwood and Mr. Tarpan in tow, leaving Caraway and Tim alone in the reception area. They sat in uncomfortable silence while Tim refilled his canteen using the water fountain. "So, uh... Why did you come here?" Tim turned to face Caraway, who was busy eyeballing a corkboard full of pictures of critters and volunteers. "Oh, I, err, I wanted to see how you handled the animals. I handle anomalous animals back at Site-58 and I figured seeing you folks in action would help me do my job better. I'm still relatively new to it, so--" "Why didn't you just say so? Come on, let me show you the pens!" He plugged his canteen and strung it over his shoulder, starting towards the entrance to the critter's area. "I, whuh, okay!" Caraway followed, a bit shocked that connecting with Tim had been that easy. Tim led him outside towards a pen housing a beagle. He rubbed his hands together, then grabbed the padlock on the gate and input the number '1221'. The canine within perked its ears up and approached the gate, barking excitedly. "Hey, [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/perfil-de-la-criatura-thor Thor]! Who's a good boy?" Tim mirrored the animal's excitement as he opened the gate and walked in. Caraway followed after him, smiling slightly as Tim sat down on the concrete and was viciously lick-attacked by the dog. "Thor, this is Doctor Caraway, Doctor Caraway, this is Thor!" He laughed as Thor rolled onto his back, exposing his belly. "What a handsome dog," Caraway commented, squatting beside Tim. He stretched out his hand to rub Thor's belly, who responded by sticking out his tongue happily. "What are his anomalous properties?" "You mean his abilities? Well, Thor here can detect electromagnetic waves with his nose, and can shock you with a bark. But he wouldn't do that to us, wouldn't he? Because he's such a good boy! Yes he is, isn't he?" Tim reached forward and patted Thor's head, making his ears flop to and fro. "Cool! Back at 58, we've classified several [[[scp-6968\|previously unknown species of animals]]]. It's been interesting work, to say the least." "New critters, eh? Sounds exciting. How do you figure out how to take care of them?" "Well, that part was certainly a challenge. Not every animal is the same, you know?" "Of course. A lot of our critters are rescues that often require special care. Care to share an example of one of those critters you have over in... where was it, Site-58?" "Yeah, 58. And no, I don't think I can, sorry. It's classified." "Oh, come now, Doctor. Surely you can share one little snippet with me? It's not like I'll tell anyone. Besides, we both work for the same organization. And we're both men in charge of critters, aren't we?" Caraway was silent for a moment as he considered Tim's words. He continued to rub Thor's belly; the dog was beyond delighted at this. "Fine. But just one." "That's all I wanted to hear!" "You ever hear of a squonk?" "No, can't say I have. Elucidate me, Doctor." "They're little animals that are covered in warts and are always crying. They hate being seen and will cry even harder when viewed, to the point where they can even dissolve themselves into tears if escape seems impossible for them." "Poor little guys." "I've been working on rehabilitating some of them into being okay with being perceived, but it's slow-going." "I can imagine. Have you ever tried to wean a bear off of cigarettes?" "You what?" "[[[critter-profile-maya\|Yeah.]]]" Caraway blinked in surprise. "So, Mr. Wilson--" "Please, call me Tim." "... sure, Tim, tell me. How do you handle the animals in your possession?" "With tender love and care, of course. We vet all our volunteers to ensure they are good, kind people with love in their hearts for the animals they will be taking care of. That's the only way to take care of critters, isn't it?" Tim smiled, continuing to flop Thor's ears. Caraway was quiet. The Foundation didn't seem to think so. They were cold and calculating in how they cared for anomalous animals under their care. They calculated exactly how much enrichment they needed daily down to the second, weighed their daily food intake to calculate the perfect amount necessary for proper nutrition and not any more, and even disallowed most individuals from forming attachments to them by cycling personnel frequently. "... Yeah." Caraway sighed. "What's the matter?" "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." "I'll tell you what. I never expected to meet one of the Supervisors who cared about critters like I do. All they're interested in is numbers. That's why I let Fae take care of them most of the time. She's got a head for numbers, I don't." Tim sighed as well. "...Really?" "Yeah. I won't lie, at first, I was a little apprehensive of you. It's not that I'm religious or anything, I'm a spiritual person, sure, but seeing someone who looks like you is a little shocking!" Tim laughed. "I... I guess that makes sense." There was a brief silence between them, interrupted only by Thor's panting. "You're not like the Supervisors, Doctor Caraway." "I'm not?" "You've got a spark of love for the critters. Don't abandon it. For their sake." The two sat in silence for a while until Thor sneezed. "Bless you, Thor," they said simultaneously. They both laughed. ----- After spending a few hours with Tim and the animals, Everwood and Mr. Tarpan came out escorted by Faeowynn. They found the two near the large animal enclosures watching as Alex Molina fed Maya the bear. "Mr. Wilson, I do believe its time to give Roger and I a tour of the facilities." Everwood beckoned as they approached. "Righto. Need to make sure our money is being spent properly." Tarpan nodded. "Very well, no problemo, friends! Sorry to leave you like this, Doctor Caraway, but I have business to attend to." Tim pat him on the back, heading towards the two people he dreaded seeing most. "Shall we begin with the large animal enclosures? We're already here," he spoke, leading them away. Faeowynn remained in place, looking over to Caraway. "Do you want to come over to the Center? It's hot and you've been out here for hours. I'm sure you would like a drink of water." She smiled politely. "Sure," he returned the smile. The two walked back to the Center, which had mostly been cleared out of volunteers and employees for the day. Only Old Al and Nandini remained, hanging out near the front desk and chatting about a recent football game. Caraway ducked his head down to the fountain's level and pressed the activation button, taking a long sip of water as he did so. Faeowynn folded her arms as she looked him over. "So you're a shapeshifter, huh?" Finishing his drink, Caraway stood back up to his full height, roughly equal to that of Faeowynn. He nodded, wiping his mouth. "How long have you known?" "Ever since I was little." "Me too! I'm a bit of a shapeshifter myself." Faeowynn laughed. "Really?" Caraway's eyes brightened for a moment. "No, not really. According to my dad, I am though. I didn't always have breasts if you know what I mean." "Oh." "I wish I were, though. It would have made my life so much easier." She motioned for him to follow her, which he did. Fae led him to her office, which was a bit hot and stuffy as the air conditioning for that part of the building was broken. Once they arrived, she motioned for him to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Transforming is quite painful for me. I don't like doing it, but I can." "My transformation wasn't easy either. Lost a lot of friends, spent a good portion of my life pretending to be someone I wasn't." "I can imagine. My sister is also transgender." "Oh? That's cool." Fae sat down behind her desk, which was full of paperwork Tim had neglected to do as usual. "My dad wasn't so cool about it." "Neither was mine. He still deadnames me sometimes. I've been Faeowynn longer than this Center has stood here and he still does it. I know he doesn't mean ill, but it still hurts, you know?" "I'm sorry. Faeowynn is a beautiful name, by the way." "Thank you." She grinned, leaning forward to start rifling through paperwork. "I picked it myself." "So, uh, do you work with the animals at all?" Caraway asked, tugging at his shirt collar. The heat was getting to him. "Yeah, when I can free myself from the paperwork I tend to a few of them. But today I had to go over the budget and expansion plans with Jay and Roger. My dad... he gets anxious when he has to deal with the Supervisors, so he has me do it most of the time." "Ah. I mostly deal with animals back at 58. Your dad likes me more than he seems to like Doctor Everwood and Mr. Tarpan." "You have the gift for animals, it seems. My dad is very good at picking up on that with people. I guess that's why the Center has lasted as long as it has." Fae set down the paper she was looking at and clasped her hands together, then turned her gaze to Caraway. "You can take your shirt off if you want. I know it's really hot in here. I'm used to it." "Oh god, thank you." Caraway wasted no time in removing his button-up and tossing it to the other chair beside him. He wore a grey tank top underneath, and his muscles glistened under the fluorescent light. Fae gawked for a moment but then noticed a tattoo on his bicep reading 'SCP' followed by a few numbers. She knew that the Supervisors referred to the things they contained as SCP's, and classified them by number. "Doctor Caraway, may I ask you a personal question?" "Uh, sure." "Why do you have a tattoo of an SCP designation?" Faeowynn questioned, trying to moderate her tone to be as gentle as possible. "I uh, well, I am an SCP object." "I thought the Supervisors kept SCPs in cages, not employed them." "Well... they did do that to me. Until recently, anyway. They started this whole thing called the Integration Program, which is meant to... Actually, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to talk about this. Sorry. You know how secretive the Foundation is." "Ah, yes. I won't press you. Though I think I get the gist. Sorry about asking you like that." "No it's okay, I just don't want to get you or myself in trouble. I'm supposed to be on my best behavior since I'm setting an example for all the other anomalies that are part of the Integration Program and... it's a lot. During the ride over from 64, Mr. Tarpan was saying how he doesn't trust anomalies to be Foundation employees. And Everwood is nice and all, but I can tell they have their doubts about the Integration Program. It's all just so much pressure to be the best little poster boy ever, and I can't be perfect all the time, you know?" Caraway sighed, burying his face in his hands. "I know what you mean. I have to be on my best behavior all the time too or I'm considered a 'crazy transgender' and suddenly I'm not allowed to have rights. Not to mention the pressure to perform from the Supervisors." "At least I don't have to deal with the public. If I had to deal with the Foundation's pressure and the civilian public, I think I would break in half." "They're alright most of the time, despite this being small-town America." Fae chuckled, reaching into her bottom drawer. She pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. "I normally only do this with my boyfriend, but you and I, we're kindred spirits, Doctor Caraway," she continued, pouring two shots, one for each of them. She slid the glass across the desk to him. "To us shapeshifters who must be perfect all the time." Caraway smiled, taking the shot. They clinked their glasses together and downed the spirit. Fae seemed to take it well enough, but Caraway hacked a cough. "I don't think I'll ever get used to alcohol," he coughed again. "It's an acquired taste. It's honestly better that you don't. I'm just a bitter old woman who drinks the pain away." Faeowynn shrugged. "You're not even that old." "Older than you, Mr. Muscleman," she laughed. Caraway grinned, setting the glass back on the desk. "You know, both you and your dad are wonderful people. It's a shame you don't see eye to eye with each other." Fae placed her glass on the desk as well. "Maybe. At the end of the day, we still love each other though. And I know I'll have him supporting me, even if he doesn't get me, just like I'll be here to help him with the Center." "I think it's lovely that you have a family to help you. I wish I were allowed to have mine." "You must miss your sister a lot." "Yeah." Silence. Caraway and Faeowynn both struggled to find something to say for a minute. "Look... I... I know that this is cold comfort, but not all family is blood. Maybe we could write to each other. I'd like to be your friend, if you'd allow me to be." Faeowynn offered, smiling meekly over at Caraway. Silence again. "Fuck it, it's better than nothing," he shrugged, leaning over the desk to look for something to write on. "Let me give you my internal email. From what I understand you guys here at Wilson's can email us too. Or at lest that's what I understood from what Everwood was saying on the ride over." With the assistance of Fae, he found a pen and the back of a business card and scrawled down his email. "Excellent." Fae smiled, taking the business card and taping it to her laptop screen. "You'll be hearing from me soon." "Actually, can you do me a favor?" "Sure, what's up?" "Can you share that email with your dad too? He and I... I dunno. I feel like we kind of get each other. I'd like to talk to him too." "Oh, sure. Look at us, becoming a weird little family. You're like the fifth Wilson!" "Fifth?" "Oh, I take it you didn't meet Robin and Anders?" "No." "Maybe some other time. But for now, I'm glad to have a new pen pal," Faeowynn grinned. "I have some other weird pen pals too, you know. No one I can really talk about, though. It's uh, [[[a-welcome-distraction\|top]]] [[[faeowynn-wilsons-first-tamalada\|secret]]] stuff." Caraway quirked an eyebrow. Fae winked. "Care to elaborate?" He pressed. "Nope," she smiled. "And honestly, I don't think you want to know." "Fine. I trust you." ----- A few hours later, the group had gotten together and were at the field on the outskirts of Boring again. The sky was dark and the fireflies were out in force, at least until the roar of the blades of the helicopter sent them scattering. Everwood and Mr. Tarpan shook hands with Tim and Faeowynn before leaving for their transport. Caraway remained, looking back at the two. Tim approached him and shook his hand happily, leaning in to whisper-shout something over the blades spinning. "Don't lose your spark, Doctor Caraway." Caraway nodded meaningfully before turning to Faeowynn. She shook his hand wordlessly but with a knowing smile. "Take care, Caraway." She moved back to where Tim had retreated to and the two of them waved goodbye as Faran Caraway got into the helicopter. He waved back before closing the door behind him and strapping himself in. "I can't wait to get back to 64." Mr. Tarpan said, sighing deeply. "And I to 55. But I think Faran and I are going to layover at 64 for the night. I'm pooped and making the flight over the country back to 55 and 58 would be hellish under these conditions." Everwood finished strapping themselves in, getting comfortable. They turned to face Caraway, who was just getting ready to secure the straps around himself. "So what do you think of the Wilsons? Learn anything interesting you're going to take back to your work at 58?" Everwood asked. "No, not really," he lied with a smile. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Uncle Nicolini]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-29T14:36:00	[ "_licensebox", "doctor-everwood", "fading-stars", "faeowynn-wilson", "lgbtq", "slice-of-life", "tale", "tim-wilson", "wilsons-wildlife" ]	Shape Shift With Me - SCP Foundation	41	[ "fading-stars-hub", "unconditional-love-hub", "scp-6968", "critter-profile-maya", "a-welcome-distraction", "faeowynn-wilsons-first-tamalada", "scp-6938", "scp-020-j", "scp-mystery-j", "scp-4026", "scp-3863", "scp-1799", "nicos-proposal-ii", "scp-4432", "scp-1542", "scp-pl-274", "scp-4982", "scp-es-113", "scp-2983", "scp-726-ex", "scp-7926", "surprise-happy-birthday-12", "stormsite19", "project-proposal-2014-1221", "asset-florida-orange", "classy-carlos-goes-to-therapy", "la-persistencia-de-la-memoria", "spc-7000", "who-wants-to-live-forever", "hogslice-vs-bones", "the-case-of-the-bathroom-cheese-labels", "phoenix-a-la-mode", "sublimation", "pediatric-para-psychology", "drunkenly-stumbling-down-memory-lane", "dark-sushi-file-no-1221", "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "ode-to-the-unknown-author", "sciptember-2022-art", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "wilson-s-wildlife-solutions-hub", "unconditional-love-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "fading-stars-hub" ]	[]	1448684328	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/shape-shift-with-me
she-s-worth-it-i-promise	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ajust-girly-things/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p>CW: psychological abuse, child abuse, disordered eating, fatphobia, misogyny</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> </div> <p><span style="font-size:75%;">You are here: Home / Recipes / <span style="color: #ff3968">Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake</span></span></p> <div class="light"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake</span></h1> <p><span style="color: #b3b5b7">Published: July 7, 2023 by</span> <span style="color: #ff85a2">Lola♡</span><br/> <a href="#Recipe">Jump to Recipe</a></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><em>This mama’s spin on the Super Strawberry Surprise Shake will tickle any girl pink. Creamy, frosty and chemical-free, bound to leave you brimming with glee!</em></span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p>My youngest girl Haley hasn’t always made the best choices. She's quite a brilliant thing, armed to the teeth with her facts and logic ready to tear down any and all motherly advice I give her. Though I say this with a smile… she's just not old enough for love to bring her back down to earth.</p> <p>At her age, I'd already met her dad. I was, in my head at least, very good at doing what I needed to do — I've always been the go-getter in my family — with some determination, I transformed into and remained his dream girl. My oldest, Ashlie, takes after me. She met THE boy last month and cold-quit carbs (something not even I've managed). Haley, however… let's just say she takes after my Hubby.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ella-s-sickly-sweets">By the way, here's some goodies that helped me lose the weight and keep the boobs!!!</a></p> <p>To my fellow mamas reading this: how often do you let your kids eat out? Haley whines and whines, every single gosh-darn day, even though my answer has always been "never"! She and Ashlie are free to make their own choices (within reason, obvs) but junk food is where I've always drawn the line. I would go so far as to say it is the very thing slowly murdering our country. We as Americans are groomed from toddlerhood to crave grease-encrusted garbage, with every birthday party hosted in a McDonalds or Chuck E Cheese and every colorful soda pop brand they have in every cafeteria — is it too much to have my girls be the ones breaking the cycle? Though I wouldn't assume neither have snuck a chicken tender or six while out with friends, no daughter of mine shoves pore-clogging crap into their stupid little mouths that don't know better. Not under my watch.</p> <p>My home is somewhere we ALL take care of our bodies. Not a single fry has made it past my doorframe since the girls turned five.</p> <p>HOWEVER…there is a reason why I of all people am writing a milkshake recipe.</p> <p>Against my express wishes, our car broke down on the I-405 in walking distance of a Spicy Crust Pizzeria, and the other option was to swelter under the 98 degree heat waiting to get hit by a car…</p> <p>My brain must've been baking itself into goo. I watched as Haley made a beeline for the counter. Passive, permissive. Paralyzed with heat.</p> <p>Then I was… thrilled?</p> <p>There was something about what she ordered — Super Strawberry Surprise Shake, she called it, a cheap-sounding name for a cheap-sounding drink — that evoked, in my wandering mind; images of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">laced hems and rounded cheeks</span></span>, of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">warm hands and playground rhymes</span></span>, of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">scented ink streaking pink</span></span>. Of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">explosive giggles</span></span>, of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">downy arms and legs</span></span>, of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">tender budding breasts</span></span>. Of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">the mouths of sweet jars begging for exploration</span></span>. Of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">petals crushed underfoot</span></span>, of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">bated bubblegum breath</span></span>, of <span style="color: #ff85a2"><span style="font-size:xx-small;">the glint in his eyes the glint of his teeth the glint of the stars</span></span></p> <p>girlhood.</p> <p>I wanted to take this as a sign that she’s embracing her irresistible transition into real femininity… BUT I thought of the love handles and bat wings undulating under that plain, baggy hoodie and almost hurled right then and there. I dragged the girls out of the store and back to the car right in time for AAA to arrive and do their job. Then off we went, as I allowed one thought to reconcile with the other, to the nearest Erewhon where we got:</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc1"><span>What to make Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake with</span></h1> </div> <div class="dark"> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><strong>Fresh organic strawberries.</strong> Frozen works too if you want it frosty, but the real deal will be packed with nutrients and those of us with a cheap/suboptimal blender will struggle less. We're going with the very ripe because it helps us avoid sugar.<br/> <strong>Milk.</strong> Full-fat milk gives a more indulgent texture, but we know better…or don't. Wink wink.<br/> <strong>Strawberry or vanilla ice cream.</strong> Use low-fat brands like Halo Top or So Delicious.<br/> <strong>Whipped cream.</strong> Decorative — spoon off before drinking.<br/> <strong>Candy sprinkles.</strong> Kids will be kids.</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a name="Recipe"></a> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="dark"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>This Super Strawberry Surprise Shake dupe is a pretty pink beverage for girls on a cheat day who need a booster shot of sweet-tart feminine energy, with less of the evil additives.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ★★★★★<br/> 5 from 2 votes</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Prep Time: 5 minutes Total Time: 5 minutes<br/> Servings: 1 Calories: 252kcal</p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>Ingredients</span></h1> </div> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/html/c9141ea3a3a77982b53225758177eb0a5e3965ac-3928795481149627490"></iframe></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc3"><span>How to make Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake</span></h1> </div> <br/> <span style="font-size:125%;">1. Chop and hull strawberries. Save a pretty little one for later!</span> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:125%;">2. In a blender, combine strawberries, ice cream and milk.</span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:125%;">3. Blend for 30 seconds to a minute until well-mixed and pourable.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:125%;">4. Pour into the glass. Decorate with whipped cream, candy sprinkles and the pretty strawberry you saved from earlier.</span></p> </div> <p><em><strong>For my lovely regulars:</strong> you'll find that this recipe isn't my usual, but I wanted to replicate the fast food chain original as closely as possible.</em></p> <p><em>What else could motivate the Haley that eats like a little piglet? The Haley who picks her nose and wipes it on the upholstery? I can't wait to see the side of her this would bring out.</em></p> <p><em>Throw in collagen powder and ground flax seed if you want to feel better about yourself, ya naughty girl. Or go with the zero calorie alternative, and feed it to a tween girl in need — there's nothing better than feeling dolled up from the inside out.</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/she-s-worth-it-i-promise">she's worth it, i promise</a>" by LOVEMARGINAL, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/she-s-worth-it-i-promise">https://scpwiki.com/she-s-worth-it-i-promise</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> milkshake confetti<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;"><img alt="LOVEMARGINAL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7918431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7918431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;">LOVEMARGINAL</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/milkshake%20confetti">http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/milkshake%20confetti</a><br/> <strong>Derivative of:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ecosystem_with_Marble_Background.jpg" target="_blank">wikimedia commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> milkshake icon.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;"><img alt="LOVEMARGINAL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7918431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7918431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;">LOVEMARGINAL</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/milkshake%20icon.png">http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/milkshake%20icon.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> step 1<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;"><img alt="LOVEMARGINAL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7918431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7918431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;">LOVEMARGINAL</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%201">http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%201</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> step 2<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;"><img alt="LOVEMARGINAL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7918431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7918431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;">LOVEMARGINAL</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%202">http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%202</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> step 3<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;"><img alt="LOVEMARGINAL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7918431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7918431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;">LOVEMARGINAL</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%203">http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%203</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> step 4<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;"><img alt="LOVEMARGINAL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7918431&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7918431)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lovemarginal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7918431); return false;">LOVEMARGINAL</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%204">http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%204</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:just-girly-things">:scp-wiki:theme:just-girly-things</a>]] [[module CSS]] .light {display:block; background:#fffafa; color: #31000c; padding: 5px 10px 5px 10px; border: solid 1px pink} .dark {display:block; background:#ffd1dc; color: #31000c; padding: 5px 10px 5px 10px} [[/module]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] CW: psychological abuse, child abuse, disordered eating, fatphobia, misogyny [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[/>]] [[size 75%]]You are here: Home / Recipes / ###ff3968\|Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake##[[/size]] [[div class="light"]] + Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake ###b3b5b7\|Published: July 7, 2023 by## ###ff85a2\|Lola♡## [#Recipe Jump to Recipe] ------ @@ @@ [[=]] [[size 125%]] //This mama’s spin on the Super Strawberry Surprise Shake will tickle any girl pink. Creamy, frosty and chemical-free, bound to leave you brimming with glee!// [[/size]] [[/=]] [[=image milkshake%20confetti width="700px"]] @@ @@ ------ My youngest girl Haley hasn’t always made the best choices. She's quite a brilliant thing, armed to the teeth with her facts and logic ready to tear down any and all motherly advice I give her. Though I say this with a smile... she's just not old enough for love to bring her back down to earth. At her age, I'd already met her dad. I was, in my head at least, very good at doing what I needed to do -- I've always been the go-getter in my family -- with some determination, I transformed into and remained his dream girl. My oldest, Ashlie, takes after me. She met THE boy last month and cold-quit carbs (something not even I've managed). Haley, however... let's just say she takes after my Hubby. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ella-s-sickly-sweets\|By the way, here's some goodies that helped me lose the weight and keep the boobs!!!]]] To my fellow mamas reading this: how often do you let your kids eat out? Haley whines and whines, every single gosh-darn day, even though my answer has always been "never"! She and Ashlie are free to make their own choices (within reason, obvs) but junk food is where I've always drawn the line. I would go so far as to say it is the very thing slowly murdering our country. We as Americans are groomed from toddlerhood to crave grease-encrusted garbage, with every birthday party hosted in a McDonalds or Chuck E Cheese and every colorful soda pop brand they have in every cafeteria -- is it too much to have my girls be the ones breaking the cycle? Though I wouldn't assume neither have snuck a chicken tender or six while out with friends, no daughter of mine shoves pore-clogging crap into their stupid little mouths that don't know better. Not under my watch. My home is somewhere we ALL take care of our bodies. Not a single fry has made it past my doorframe since the girls turned five. HOWEVER...there is a reason why I of all people am writing a milkshake recipe. Against my express wishes, our car broke down on the I-405 in walking distance of a Spicy Crust Pizzeria, and the other option was to swelter under the 98 degree heat waiting to get hit by a car… My brain must've been baking itself into goo. I watched as Haley made a beeline for the counter. Passive, permissive. Paralyzed with heat. Then I was... thrilled? There was something about what she ordered -- Super Strawberry Surprise Shake, she called it, a cheap-sounding name for a cheap-sounding drink -- that evoked, in my wandering mind; images of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]laced hems and rounded cheeks[[/size]]##, of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]warm hands and playground rhymes[[/size]]##, of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]scented ink streaking pink[[/size]]##. Of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]explosive giggles[[/size]]##, of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]downy arms and legs[[/size]]##, of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]tender budding breasts[[/size]]##. Of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]the mouths of sweet jars begging for exploration[[/size]]##. Of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]petals crushed underfoot[[/size]]##, of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]bated bubblegum breath[[/size]]##, of ###ff85a2\|[[size xx-small]]the glint in his eyes the glint of his teeth the glint of the stars[[/size]]## girlhood. I wanted to take this as a sign that she’s embracing her irresistible transition into real femininity… BUT I thought of the love handles and bat wings undulating under that plain, baggy hoodie and almost hurled right then and there. I dragged the girls out of the store and back to the car right in time for AAA to arrive and do their job. Then off we went, as I allowed one thought to reconcile with the other, to the nearest Erewhon where we got: [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] + What to make Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake with [[/=]] [[div class="dark"]] [[size 125%]] Fresh organic strawberries. Frozen works too if you want it frosty, but the real deal will be packed with nutrients and those of us with a cheap/suboptimal blender will struggle less. We're going with the very ripe because it helps us avoid sugar. Milk. Full-fat milk gives a more indulgent texture, but we know better...or don't. Wink wink. Strawberry or vanilla ice cream. Use low-fat brands like Halo Top or So Delicious. Whipped cream. Decorative -- spoon off before drinking. Candy sprinkles. Kids will be kids. [[/size]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[# Recipe]] [[=image milkshake%20icon.png]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="dark"]] [[=]] This Super Strawberry Surprise Shake dupe is a pretty pink beverage for girls on a cheat day who need a booster shot of sweet-tart feminine energy, with less of the evil additives. @@ @@ ★★★★★ 5 from 2 votes [[/=]] [[=]] Prep Time: 5 minutes Total Time: 5 minutes Servings: 1 Calories: 252kcal [[/=]] ------ [[=]] + Ingredients [[/=]] [[html]] <form> <input type="checkbox" id="ingredient1"> <label for="ingredient1"> 6-10 strawberries</label> <input type="checkbox" id="ingredient2"> <label for="ingredient2"> ⅔ cup milk </label> <input type="checkbox" id="ingredient3"> <label for="ingredient3"> 2 scoops strawberry or vanilla ice cream </label> <input type="checkbox" id="ingredient4"> <label for="ingredient7"> (Optional) whipped cream </label> <input type="checkbox" id="ingredient8"> <label for="ingredient8"> (Optional) candy sprinkles </label> </form> [[/html]] ------ [[=]] + How to make Superior Strawberry Surprise Shake [[/=]] [[size 125%]] 1. Chop and hull strawberries. Save a pretty little one for later! [[/size]] [[=image step%201 width="800px"]] @@ @@ [[size 125%]] 2. In a blender, combine strawberries, ice cream and milk. [[/size]] [[=image step%202 width="800px"]] @@ @@ [[size 125%]] 3. Blend for 30 seconds to a minute until well-mixed and pourable. [[/size]] [[=image step%203 width="800px"]] [[size 125%]] 4. Pour into the glass. Decorate with whipped cream, candy sprinkles and the pretty strawberry you saved from earlier. [[/size]] [[=image step%204 width="800px"]] [[/div]] //For my lovely regulars: you'll find that this recipe isn't my usual, but I wanted to replicate the fast food chain original as closely as possible.// //What else could motivate the Haley that eats like a little piglet? The Haley who picks her nose and wipes it on the upholstery? I can't wait to see the side of her this would bring out.// //Throw in collagen powder and ground flax seed if you want to feel better about yourself, ya naughty girl. Or go with the zero calorie alternative, and feed it to a tween girl in need -- there's nothing better than feeling dolled up from the inside out.// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: milkshake confetti > Author: [[user LOVEMARGINAL]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/milkshake%20confetti > Derivative of: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ecosystem_with_Marble_Background.jpg wikimedia commons] ===== > Filename:* milkshake icon.png > Author: [[user LOVEMARGINAL]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/milkshake%20icon.png ===== > Filename: step 1 > Author: [[user LOVEMARGINAL]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%201 ===== > Filename: step 2 > Author: [[user LOVEMARGINAL]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%202 ===== > Filename: step 3 > Author: [[user LOVEMARGINAL]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%203 ===== > Filename: step 4 > Author: [[user LOVEMARGINAL]] > License:* CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: http://scpdsandbox.wikidot.com/local--files/she-s-worth-it-i-promise/step%204 ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-21T10:48:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bleak", "but-a-dream", "horror", "just-girly-things", "no-dialogue", "psychological-horror", "remixcon2023", "tale" ]	she's worth it, i promise - SCP Foundation	136	[ "she-s-worth-it-i-promise#Recipe", "ella-s-sickly-sweets", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition", "reimagined-hub", "remixcon2023", "just-girly-things-hub", "but-a-dream", "contest-archive" ]	[]	1449446590	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/she-s-worth-it-i-promise
so-we-sang-the-chorus-from-atlanta-to-the-sea	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>A hard-nosed Union investigator and a merrymaking veteran haggle over a miraculously compelling one-man band.</p> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aaces-and-eights/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>"…and then the young lady said, 'Well, Pa, it's a <a href="/the-eternal-mxtape">steak shift</a>'."</p> <p>A big bass drum sounded. Cymbals crashed. Drunkards roared.</p> <p>"Now, he was so utterly confounded by her new beef underthings, I was able to sneak myself out 'round back of the butcher shop without him being any the wiser to my… 'interference'… with his dear little girl." Eyebrow wiggle. <em>Ba-bum-bum, psh!</em> Another peal of laughter.</p> <p>In actuality, Renard "Ren" Masterson had never bedded a butcher's daughter — nor in all likelihood had their father, from whom they took the joke — but the gaggle of unemployed ex-soldiers drinking their sorrows away in Cleveland's second-worst bar appreciated it all the same. Maybe more, in fact, given that in their estimation, the boy telling it couldn't be older than fourteen — five feet tall, barely old enough to shave, and definitely not old enough to be seducing innocent young ladies. But appearances, in this case, were deceiving: Ren was actually nineteen, and had seduced (or had been seduced by) a few beauties in their time. They were getting pretty good at figuring out which young ladies preferred their paramours to be the kind of gentlemen who bound their chests and stuffed their trousers to join the Union Army.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></p> <p>The joke was bad. The routine was crass. And as much as Ren hated to admit it, few of the Philistines in this audience could truly understand the sublime beauty of the accordion. Even so, one fellow veteran appreciated it enough to toss them a half-eaten cheese sandwich. With lunch (and dinner, and maybe even breakfast) secured, they ambled out of the saloon in search of fresh air.</p> <p>Ren did not like Ohio. As far as they were concerned, anyone who did had something deeply, deeply wrong with them. But after four years in the Army, eating hard tack and sleeping in the world's leakiest tents, the paved streets and straw beds of Cleveland may as well have been paradise.</p> <p>"Contrast," they muttered. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Where-so-ever we may… wander? Hmm. Might be something there." They whistled a few bars, trying out some familiar tunes, but couldn't get a handle on the melody. A song for another time. They sat down on the curb with an exaggerated sigh, placed the accordion in their lap, and started to gnaw on their sandwich.</p> <p>"Renard Masterson?"</p> <p>They paused — teeth sunk deep in coarse, dry bread — and turned slowly to face their interrogator. It was a tall, stern-looking woman clad in a dull blue greatcoat. She wore a gold badge, a gun, and an icy stare, which shone down at them through a pair of half-moon spectacles. "Drummer Renard Masterson?" she repeated. "23rd Michigan Volunteer Infantry, out of East Saginaw?"</p> <p>There was no point denying it. Ren chewed, swallowed, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Though, we all mustered out-"</p> <p>"Five months ago. Since then, you've been bouncing from town to town, eking out a living as a street performer."</p> <p>"Well! You have me at a disadvantage, miss…?"</p> <p><em>"Agent</em> Penelope Whistler, Union Investigation Unit." She spoke with the solemn dignity of someone who had worked very hard for the title. "I have some questions about… irregularities… associated with your service. Strange happenings, too well-supported to be the usual soldiers' tales."</p> <p>"Ah, I see. One moment." Ren set their sandwich on the curb, reached into their jacket, and saw the lady grab her six-shooter. "Whoa there! I'm not going for a gun, or nothin'. I'm unarmed. It's only — ah! Here we go."</p> <p>They pulled out exactly what Penelope had been dreading, even more than even a firearm. This was the looming specter that had haunted her since childhood, the bane of her very existence: a dented tin penny-whistle. Ren put it to their lips and played a few bars of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home".</p> <p>The woman sighed. "I've never heard that one. Not ever before. Not once in my life."</p> <p>"Strange! It's only a few years old, but that's a pretty popular tune." Their smirk spread out into a smug grin. "Oh! Wait! You were using <em>sarcasm</em>. Impressive! Never met a lawman who could do that before."</p> <p>By the looks of it, Whistler was tempted to shoot them down right then and there, to hell with the consequences. Instead, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly and pressed on. "What can you tell me about the Second Battle of Franklin?"</p> <p>"It was an awful mess."</p> <p>"Details, please. I'm not squeamish."</p> <p>"As you like. My regiment, we were reinforcements. Marched out of Columbia to join the IV Corps at Spring Hill, late November '64." The musician paused. "Should you be taking notes, or somesuch?"</p> <p>"No need. I have a very keen memory and I don't care to waste time, so mind yourself, young man."</p> <p>This was a common mistake, one which Renard saw no point in correcting. When they joined the Union Army, masquerading as a boy had been necessary. These days, it was simply easier… or maybe even preferable.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> They tipped their cap and feigned embarrassment. "Beg pardon, ma'am. My regiment was posted on the southwest side of town. We spent the morning digging trenches. We thought we were good and ready, but then Dixie charged our lines, and we were ass-deep in Georgia alligators.</p> <p>"I didn't see the first wave, myself. I heard it, though — all spelled out by the signal drums. The Confederates smashed through Columbia Pike and rushed our forward position. Hardly twenty minutes, and they were at the Brigadier General's door. Then the drums died out. No commands, just steel on steel. Cannonade. Scared men firing from the parapets. Looked like it was going to be our last hurrah, so I took out my squeeze-box…" They patted the accordion lovingly. "…and started playing John Brown's Song."</p> <p>"Acting on your own initiative?"</p> <p>"Well, our Drum-Major was busy at the time. Had his cutlass lodged in somebody's guts. Thought it best to seek forgiveness, rather than ask permission, and I was right! Our boys just needed a little music. Soon, everybody was singing, all along the line. Our reserves swept in, drove Dixie down, and we all held fast 'til midnight. Then we crossed the river and kept marching." They contemplated for a moment, nodded decisively, and took another bite of their sandwich.</p> <p>"That's it?"</p> <p>"Mm-hmm."</p> <p>"You don't recall anything else?"</p> <p>They shook their head. "Mm-mmm."</p> <p>"So… you didn't hear the Confederate drum corps start playing 'John Brown's Body' right before Union reserves arrived."</p> <p>Ren guffawed. "No, ma'am, I did not."</p> <p>"Really? Seems like something a musician would notice. Particularly if it happened more than once. Did you play 'Rally Round the Flag' a few months earlier, at Kennesaw Mountain?"</p> <p>"I… may have done. Can't rightly remember."</p> <p>"Well, your regiment certainly does. They recall a bunch of Dixie boys calling themselves traitors and calling for abolition. Nobody's shy about sharing that story — nobody except you. Why is that?" Agent Whistler punctuated her pointed remarks with a similarly pointed stare over the tops of her glasses.</p> <p>Masterson met her gaze, tried to hold it, and failed miserably. Bright blue eyes drilled deep into their soul, digging for answers. "Just. Sentimentality, I reckon. This was my father's squeeze-box, and it's a little… strange."</p> <p>"'Strange'?" That definitely piqued her interest.</p> <p>"It tends to provoke, uh, spirited reactions. Fellow musicians play along. People listening either love it, or they hate it. No in-between."</p> <p>"The same can be said of most instruments. What makes this one special?"</p> <p>They looked up and down the street, as though they were scanning for Confederate spies. Then they leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "It's the Devil's concertina."</p> <p>A wry smile tugged at the corners of Agent Whistler's mouth. Then it was gone. "Do elaborate."</p> <p>"Well, y'see, my daddy lived an eventful life. Rambler, gambler, musician. Got hisself in a little trouble down Louisiana way, so he went into the bayou at midnight and made a bet with the crossroads man. If he could match ol' Uncle Scratch, he'd walk away with the sound… of <em>freedom."</em> They drummed on the top of the accordion. "He won. Obviously."</p> <p>"Obviously." She did not seem convinced. "What about the rest of your kit?"</p> <p>"Equally strange and magnificent! This drum?" <em>Bum-bum!</em> "Bought for cheap at a pawn shop that just wasn't there when my father went to return it. The triangles? Cursed silver. Melted down from the crown of the last Indian king to rule in-"</p> <p>"Those are clearly iron. There's a little rust on the left one. You should take better care of your equipment."</p> <p><em>"Cursed</em> iron! Melted down from a cannon, stolen from the deck of the Flying Dutchman! And these cymbals…"</p> <p>"Ritual accoutrements of a voodoo queen?"</p> <p>"Now you're being ridiculous. They're fine Turkish bronze.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup>"</p> <p>Agent Whistler sighed, removed her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Where is your father now? I would like to speak to him regarding the instruments' provenance."</p> <p>"That would be difficult. He passed nine years ago."</p> <p>"I see. In that case… is it accurate to say that this contraption has opposing effects on Union and Confederate loyalists?"</p> <p>"Fighting mad, or too mad to fight. That's the short of it."</p> <p>"And those effects will propagate to any musicians in earshot?"</p> <p>"So long as they're ready to play."</p> <p>"Very well." She cleared her throat and stood up straight, all prim and proper. "As a federal agent of these United States, I ask that you release this oddity into the official custody of the Union Investigation Unit."</p> <p>"Hm. No, I'd rather not."</p> <p>"Your nation implores you to cooperate in this time of-"</p> <p>"I'm British."</p> <p>That actually caught her off-guard. "Beg your pardon?"</p> <p>"Born in Canada West, ma'am. Only crossed the border to fight Johnny Reb. Now your Congress says the war is over! If that's so, then I'm no patriot, just another wastrel. Can't give my livelihood away for nothin'."</p> <p>Whistler sighed. She was doing a lot of sighing today. "The Union Investigative Unit does have a pool of funds for the acquisition of oddities. Within reason."</p> <p>"Well," Ren mused, theatrically counting on their fingers, "they <em>are</em> oddities, as you say. Of both sentimental and historical value. Possibly — no, no, <em>definitely</em> supernatural. And they're all I got to remember my dear old daddy! Way I see it? Cost you six hundred."</p> <p>"What? No."</p> <p>"Not a dollar less. I'm going out west with some friends. Need a few horses."</p> <p>"I'm prepared to offer you fifty dollars."</p> <p>Masterson scoffed. "How'd you reckon that?"</p> <p>"Twelve dollars for a bass drum. Dollar-twenty for a sling, seventy-five cents for a drumstick, ten dollars for cymbals, and fifteen dollars for a new accordion, plus eleven dollars and five cents with which to do as you please."</p> <p>"That's… very precise."</p> <p>"As I endeavor to be in all things."</p> <p>"Well!" Ren lurched to their feet, hoping to strike a dramatic pose, and found that they were a full head shorter than their counterpart. They stepped back onto the curb. It didn't help much. "Well. In that case, you'll appreciate the challenge of finding a replacement accordion here in Cleveland. New Orleans or Boston, sure, but Ohio? There's <em>nothing</em> in Ohio!"</p> <p>"Woof."</p> <p>The moment shattered. Both belligerents looked down the street and saw a runty little bull terrier trotting up the cobblestones to meet them.</p> <p>"Mind your meal," the Agent said. "That dog looks hungry."</p> <p>As if on cue, the mutt ambled over, gave the sandwich a single sniff, and shot Ren an unimpressed look. Then it sat down on the curb. Waiting.</p> <p>"…huh. Never known a stray to decline food before."</p> <p>"Oh, he's not a stray." Ren knelt down and scratched the terrier behind his ragged little ears. "This is Bones. Doesn't eat cheese. Gives him gas something fierce. Don't worry, little guy! I'll get you some dinner, just soon as we're done."</p> <p>"Arf," the dog replied.</p> <p>Penelope blinked. She looked at the mutt, then at the musician, then back at the dog, visibly perplexed. Bones stared her dead in the eye and said, "Bow wow."</p> <p>Ren smiled innocently. "Something wrong?"</p> <p>"It's… no. Nothing." The dog had an English accent. Whistler wasn't sure how that was possible, so she decided to ignore it. "Look… Mr. Masterson… the war may be over, but your reputation persists. The Unit is not the only party that might come calling. Rest assured that Marshall, Carter and Dark will not be so polite — nor, for that matter, will any lingering Confederate elements who see your squeeze-box as a threat. I think it would behoove you to divest yourself of this particular oddity."</p> <p>They glared at her, ground their teeth, and eventually sighed. "Fine. Two hundred."</p> <p>"Very well. We have a deal. I shall visit the City Bank and return with the full sum of your payment. Please don't go anywhere; I'd just track you down again and arrest you for wasting my god-damned time." Agent Whistler did not offer to shake hands. Instead, she adjusted her glasses, turned on her heel, and marched off down the street without another word.</p> <p>Ren sat back down on the curb and watched her go. When she finally turned the corner, they let out a long, defeated sigh. "I think that lady might be trouble."</p> <p>"I agree," Bones replied. He spoke with the bland detachment of a refined gentleman, faintly aggrieved by having to do his best impression of a dog. "I have informed the Padre, and I will inform him again when he comes out of his <em>hashish</em> trance. The Messengers will keep an eye out for her."</p> <p>Masterson chewed their lip. "If Dixie's on the hunt, I might need some iron. Where's Frankie?"</p> <p>"Mr. Rucker will be waiting in Columbia Station." A moment's pause. "He is making grits."</p> <p>"Oh, we're <em>definitely</em> headed out that way, then."</p> <p>"Splendid. I shall meet you at the stables." Bones stood up, yawned, and disappeared into a nearby alley.</p> <p>Ren cradled the accordion lovingly. Like a child they would never see again. How best to commemorate their parting?</p> <p>A wicked idea came to mind. They chuckled — cackled — then raised the squeeze-box one last time, and set about modifying a melody.</p> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc0"><span>Designation of Oddity</span></h4> </div> <p>The oddity recovered from Cleveland, Ohio shall be designated <a href="/scp-4581">UIU-4581</a> until such time that it ceases to produce miraculous phenomena.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc1"><span>On Limiting Risks</span></h4> </div> <p>When it is not in use, UIU-4581 will be stored at Lodge 76, in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Each component of UIU-4581 shall be stored in separate crates, fitted and padded to prevent movement.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc2"><span>The Oddity</span></h4> </div> <p>UIU-4581 is a musical apparatus comprised of an accordion, a bass drum with an elbow-mounted beater, stirrup-driven cymbals and two triangles. When played by a "one-man band", UIU-4581 will compel actions from all soldiers in earshot, based on their state allegiance.</p> <ul> <li>Firstly, UIU-4581 fills Union men with fighting spirit, and encourages our drum corps to play with skill.</li> <li>Secondly, UIU-4581 compels Confederate drummers to play Union marching songs, provoking disorder and outrage among Southern forces.</li> </ul> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc3"><span>Additional Complication #1</span></h4> </div> <p>Following its acquisition in 1868, UIU-4581 was put to the test and yielded unexpected results. When employed by any Agent of the Union Investigation Unit, the oddity compels its user to play the following song, to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic":</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Oh, we're the Merry Messengers of these Divided States,<br/> We'll run your letters to and fro at reasonable rates<br/> And if your cargo's urgent, we'll deliver by the date!<br/> The Messengers ride on!</p> <p>Glory, glory, hallelujah!<br/> Glory, glory, hallelujah!<br/> Glory, glory, hallelujah,<br/> The Messengers ride on!</p> <p>We have no fear of highwaymen who try to spoil our fun;<br/> We greet them by the thunderous applause of Frankie's guns.<br/> When pistols roar, each bushwhacker will turn away and run,<br/> The Messengers ride on!</p> <p>Oh! Brother Smoke's body lies a-mouldering in his bed.<br/> This mortal frame is weary; let the Padre rest his head.<br/> Stuff a pipe with hemp and he'll be sleeping like the dead,<br/> The Messengers ride on!</p> <p>Can't you hear the drums a-beating out a free and merry tune?<br/> If we meet you in the morning, we'll be far away by noon.<br/> We'll greet our fellows once again on Canaan's happy shore,<br/> When tyrants rule no more!</p> </div> <p>This effect was first discovered by Agent Whistler, whose experiment provoked great confusion among the assembled staff of Lodge 76. <a href="/start-the-music">This incident</a> made clear that UIU-4581 is equally capable of compelling instrumental musicians and trained vocalists.</p> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. In a more enlightened age, they might've said they had perfected their "gaydar", but that useful portmanteau was still a century and change from being coined.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. "Miss" and "young lady" had always made them feel a little queasy. Besides, trousers were far more sensible than skirts.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. "Fine Turkish bronze" forged in Smyrna for the Ottoman Jannisary corps. Somehow, they found their way into the hands of Ren's paternal grandmother: a Creole midwife, herbalist and priestess, who used them during ritual celebrations. Even so, Masterson refused to give Whistler a win.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= A hard-nosed Union investigator and a merrymaking veteran haggle over a miraculously compelling one-man band. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:aces-and-eights">:scp-wiki:theme:aces-and-eights</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] "...and then the young lady said, 'Well, Pa, it's a [[[the-eternal-mxtape\|steak shift]]]'." A big bass drum sounded. Cymbals crashed. Drunkards roared. "Now, he was so utterly confounded by her new beef underthings, I was able to sneak myself out 'round back of the butcher shop without him being any the wiser to my... 'interference'... with his dear little girl." Eyebrow wiggle. //Ba-bum-bum, psh!// Another peal of laughter. In actuality, Renard "Ren" Masterson had never bedded a butcher's daughter -- nor in all likelihood had their father, from whom they took the joke -- but the gaggle of unemployed ex-soldiers drinking their sorrows away in Cleveland's second-worst bar appreciated it all the same. Maybe more, in fact, given that in their estimation, the boy telling it couldn't be older than fourteen -- five feet tall, barely old enough to shave, and definitely not old enough to be seducing innocent young ladies. But appearances, in this case, were deceiving: Ren was actually nineteen, and had seduced (or had been seduced by) a few beauties in their time. They were getting pretty good at figuring out which young ladies preferred their paramours to be the kind of gentlemen who bound their chests and stuffed their trousers to join the Union Army.[[footnote]] In a more enlightened age, they might've said they had perfected their "gaydar", but that useful portmanteau was still a century and change from being coined. [[/footnote]] The joke was bad. The routine was crass. And as much as Ren hated to admit it, few of the Philistines in this audience could truly understand the sublime beauty of the accordion. Even so, one fellow veteran appreciated it enough to toss them a half-eaten cheese sandwich. With lunch (and dinner, and maybe even breakfast) secured, they ambled out of the saloon in search of fresh air. Ren did not like Ohio. As far as they were concerned, anyone who did had something deeply, deeply wrong with them. But after four years in the Army, eating hard tack and sleeping in the world's leakiest tents, the paved streets and straw beds of Cleveland may as well have been paradise. "Contrast," they muttered. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Where-so-ever we may... wander? Hmm. Might be something there." They whistled a few bars, trying out some familiar tunes, but couldn't get a handle on the melody. A song for another time. They sat down on the curb with an exaggerated sigh, placed the accordion in their lap, and started to gnaw on their sandwich. "Renard Masterson?" They paused -- teeth sunk deep in coarse, dry bread -- and turned slowly to face their interrogator. It was a tall, stern-looking woman clad in a dull blue greatcoat. She wore a gold badge, a gun, and an icy stare, which shone down at them through a pair of half-moon spectacles. "Drummer Renard Masterson?" she repeated. "23rd Michigan Volunteer Infantry, out of East Saginaw?" There was no point denying it. Ren chewed, swallowed, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Though, we all mustered out-" "Five months ago. Since then, you've been bouncing from town to town, eking out a living as a street performer." "Well! You have me at a disadvantage, miss...?" //"Agent// Penelope Whistler, Union Investigation Unit." She spoke with the solemn dignity of someone who had worked very hard for the title. "I have some questions about... irregularities... associated with your service. Strange happenings, too well-supported to be the usual soldiers' tales." "Ah, I see. One moment." Ren set their sandwich on the curb, reached into their jacket, and saw the lady grab her six-shooter. "Whoa there! I'm not going for a gun, or nothin'. I'm unarmed. It's only -- ah! Here we go." They pulled out exactly what Penelope had been dreading, even more than even a firearm. This was the looming specter that had haunted her since childhood, the bane of her very existence: a dented tin penny-whistle. Ren put it to their lips and played a few bars of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". The woman sighed. "I've never heard that one. Not ever before. Not once in my life." "Strange! It's only a few years old, but that's a pretty popular tune." Their smirk spread out into a smug grin. "Oh! Wait! You were using //sarcasm//. Impressive! Never met a lawman who could do that before." By the looks of it, Whistler was tempted to shoot them down right then and there, to hell with the consequences. Instead, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly and pressed on. "What can you tell me about the Second Battle of Franklin?" "It was an awful mess." "Details, please. I'm not squeamish." "As you like. My regiment, we were reinforcements. Marched out of Columbia to join the IV Corps at Spring Hill, late November '64." The musician paused. "Should you be taking notes, or somesuch?" "No need. I have a very keen memory and I don't care to waste time, so mind yourself, young man." This was a common mistake, one which Renard saw no point in correcting. When they joined the Union Army, masquerading as a boy had been necessary. These days, it was simply easier... or maybe even preferable.[[footnote]]"Miss" and "young lady" had always made them feel a little queasy. Besides, trousers were far more sensible than skirts.[[/footnote]] They tipped their cap and feigned embarrassment. "Beg pardon, ma'am. My regiment was posted on the southwest side of town. We spent the morning digging trenches. We thought we were good and ready, but then Dixie charged our lines, and we were ass-deep in Georgia alligators. "I didn't see the first wave, myself. I heard it, though -- all spelled out by the signal drums. The Confederates smashed through Columbia Pike and rushed our forward position. Hardly twenty minutes, and they were at the Brigadier General's door. Then the drums died out. No commands, just steel on steel. Cannonade. Scared men firing from the parapets. Looked like it was going to be our last hurrah, so I took out my squeeze-box..." They patted the accordion lovingly. "...and started playing John Brown's Song." "Acting on your own initiative?" "Well, our Drum-Major was busy at the time. Had his cutlass lodged in somebody's guts. Thought it best to seek forgiveness, rather than ask permission, and I was right! Our boys just needed a little music. Soon, everybody was singing, all along the line. Our reserves swept in, drove Dixie down, and we all held fast 'til midnight. Then we crossed the river and kept marching." They contemplated for a moment, nodded decisively, and took another bite of their sandwich. "That's it?" "Mm-hmm." "You don't recall anything else?" They shook their head. "Mm-mmm." "So... you didn't hear the Confederate drum corps start playing 'John Brown's Body' right before Union reserves arrived." Ren guffawed. "No, ma'am, I did not." "Really? Seems like something a musician would notice. Particularly if it happened more than once. Did you play 'Rally Round the Flag' a few months earlier, at Kennesaw Mountain?" "I... may have done. Can't rightly remember." "Well, your regiment certainly does. They recall a bunch of Dixie boys calling themselves traitors and calling for abolition. Nobody's shy about sharing that story -- nobody except you. Why is that?" Agent Whistler punctuated her pointed remarks with a similarly pointed stare over the tops of her glasses. Masterson met her gaze, tried to hold it, and failed miserably. Bright blue eyes drilled deep into their soul, digging for answers. "Just. Sentimentality, I reckon. This was my father's squeeze-box, and it's a little... strange." "'Strange'?" That definitely piqued her interest. "It tends to provoke, uh, spirited reactions. Fellow musicians play along. People listening either love it, or they hate it. No in-between." "The same can be said of most instruments. What makes this one special?" They looked up and down the street, as though they were scanning for Confederate spies. Then they leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "It's the Devil's concertina." A wry smile tugged at the corners of Agent Whistler's mouth. Then it was gone. "Do elaborate." "Well, y'see, my daddy lived an eventful life. Rambler, gambler, musician. Got hisself in a little trouble down Louisiana way, so he went into the bayou at midnight and made a bet with the crossroads man. If he could match ol' Uncle Scratch, he'd walk away with the sound... of //freedom."// They drummed on the top of the accordion. "He won. Obviously." "Obviously." She did not seem convinced. "What about the rest of your kit?" "Equally strange and magnificent! This drum?" //Bum-bum!// "Bought for cheap at a pawn shop that just wasn't there when my father went to return it. The triangles? Cursed silver. Melted down from the crown of the last Indian king to rule in-" "Those are clearly iron. There's a little rust on the left one. You should take better care of your equipment." //"Cursed// iron! Melted down from a cannon, stolen from the deck of the Flying Dutchman! And these cymbals..." "Ritual accoutrements of a voodoo queen?" "Now you're being ridiculous. They're fine Turkish bronze.[[footnote]]"Fine Turkish bronze" forged in Smyrna for the Ottoman Jannisary corps. Somehow, they found their way into the hands of Ren's paternal grandmother: a Creole midwife, herbalist and priestess, who used them during ritual celebrations. Even so, Masterson refused to give Whistler a win.[[/footnote]]" Agent Whistler sighed, removed her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Where is your father now? I would like to speak to him regarding the instruments' provenance." "That would be difficult. He passed nine years ago." "I see. In that case... is it accurate to say that this contraption has opposing effects on Union and Confederate loyalists?" "Fighting mad, or too mad to fight. That's the short of it." "And those effects will propagate to any musicians in earshot?" "So long as they're ready to play." "Very well." She cleared her throat and stood up straight, all prim and proper. "As a federal agent of these United States, I ask that you release this oddity into the official custody of the Union Investigation Unit." "Hm. No, I'd rather not." "Your nation implores you to cooperate in this time of-" "I'm British." That actually caught her off-guard. "Beg your pardon?" "Born in Canada West, ma'am. Only crossed the border to fight Johnny Reb. Now your Congress says the war is over! If that's so, then I'm no patriot, just another wastrel. Can't give my livelihood away for nothin'." Whistler sighed. She was doing a lot of sighing today. "The Union Investigative Unit does have a pool of funds for the acquisition of oddities. Within reason." "Well," Ren mused, theatrically counting on their fingers, "they //are// oddities, as you say. Of both sentimental and historical value. Possibly -- no, no, //definitely// supernatural. And they're all I got to remember my dear old daddy! Way I see it? Cost you six hundred." "What? No." "Not a dollar less. I'm going out west with some friends. Need a few horses." "I'm prepared to offer you fifty dollars." Masterson scoffed. "How'd you reckon that?" "Twelve dollars for a bass drum. Dollar-twenty for a sling, seventy-five cents for a drumstick, ten dollars for cymbals, and fifteen dollars for a new accordion, plus eleven dollars and five cents with which to do as you please." "That's... very precise." "As I endeavor to be in all things." "Well!" Ren lurched to their feet, hoping to strike a dramatic pose, and found that they were a full head shorter than their counterpart. They stepped back onto the curb. It didn't help much. "Well. In that case, you'll appreciate the challenge of finding a replacement accordion here in Cleveland. New Orleans or Boston, sure, but Ohio? There's //nothing// in Ohio!" "Woof." The moment shattered. Both belligerents looked down the street and saw a runty little bull terrier trotting up the cobblestones to meet them. "Mind your meal," the Agent said. "That dog looks hungry." As if on cue, the mutt ambled over, gave the sandwich a single sniff, and shot Ren an unimpressed look. Then it sat down on the curb. Waiting. "...huh. Never known a stray to decline food before." "Oh, he's not a stray." Ren knelt down and scratched the terrier behind his ragged little ears. "This is Bones. Doesn't eat cheese. Gives him gas something fierce. Don't worry, little guy! I'll get you some dinner, just soon as we're done." "Arf," the dog replied. Penelope blinked. She looked at the mutt, then at the musician, then back at the dog, visibly perplexed. Bones stared her dead in the eye and said, "Bow wow." Ren smiled innocently. "Something wrong?" "It's... no. Nothing." The dog had an English accent. Whistler wasn't sure how that was possible, so she decided to ignore it. "Look... Mr. Masterson... the war may be over, but your reputation persists. The Unit is not the only party that might come calling. Rest assured that Marshall, Carter and Dark will not be so polite -- nor, for that matter, will any lingering Confederate elements who see your squeeze-box as a threat. I think it would behoove you to divest yourself of this particular oddity." They glared at her, ground their teeth, and eventually sighed. "Fine. Two hundred." "Very well. We have a deal. I shall visit the City Bank and return with the full sum of your payment. Please don't go anywhere; I'd just track you down again and arrest you for wasting my god-damned time." Agent Whistler did not offer to shake hands. Instead, she adjusted her glasses, turned on her heel, and marched off down the street without another word. Ren sat back down on the curb and watched her go. When she finally turned the corner, they let out a long, defeated sigh. "I think that lady might be trouble." "I agree," Bones replied. He spoke with the bland detachment of a refined gentleman, faintly aggrieved by having to do his best impression of a dog. "I have informed the Padre, and I will inform him again when he comes out of his //hashish// trance. The Messengers will keep an eye out for her." Masterson chewed their lip. "If Dixie's on the hunt, I might need some iron. Where's Frankie?" "Mr. Rucker will be waiting in Columbia Station." A moment's pause. "He is making grits." "Oh, we're //definitely// headed out that way, then." "Splendid. I shall meet you at the stables." Bones stood up, yawned, and disappeared into a nearby alley. Ren cradled the accordion lovingly. Like a child they would never see again. How best to commemorate their parting? A wicked idea came to mind. They chuckled -- cackled -- then raised the squeeze-box one last time, and set about modifying a melody. ------ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] ++++ Designation of Oddity [[/=]] The oddity recovered from Cleveland, Ohio shall be designated [[[SCP-4581\|UIU-4581]]] until such time that it ceases to produce miraculous phenomena. [[=]] ++++ On Limiting Risks [[/=]] When it is not in use, UIU-4581 will be stored at Lodge 76, in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Each component of UIU-4581 shall be stored in separate crates, fitted and padded to prevent movement. [[=]] ++++ The Oddity [[/=]] UIU-4581 is a musical apparatus comprised of an accordion, a bass drum with an elbow-mounted beater, stirrup-driven cymbals and two triangles. When played by a "one-man band", UIU-4581 will compel actions from all soldiers in earshot, based on their state allegiance. * Firstly, UIU-4581 fills Union men with fighting spirit, and encourages our drum corps to play with skill. * Secondly, UIU-4581 compels Confederate drummers to play Union marching songs, provoking disorder and outrage among Southern forces. [[=]] ++++ Additional Complication #1 [[/=]] Following its acquisition in 1868, UIU-4581 was put to the test and yielded unexpected results. When employed by any Agent of the Union Investigation Unit, the oddity compels its user to play the following song, to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic": [[div class="blockquote"]] Oh, we're the Merry Messengers of these Divided States, We'll run your letters to and fro at reasonable rates And if your cargo's urgent, we'll deliver by the date! The Messengers ride on! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah, The Messengers ride on! We have no fear of highwaymen who try to spoil our fun; We greet them by the thunderous applause of Frankie's guns. When pistols roar, each bushwhacker will turn away and run, The Messengers ride on! Oh! Brother Smoke's body lies a-mouldering in his bed. This mortal frame is weary; let the Padre rest his head. Stuff a pipe with hemp and he'll be sleeping like the dead, The Messengers ride on! Can't you hear the drums a-beating out a free and merry tune? If we meet you in the morning, we'll be far away by noon. We'll greet our fellows once again on Canaan's happy shore, When tyrants rule no more! [[/div]] This effect was first discovered by Agent Whistler, whose experiment provoked great confusion among the assembled staff of Lodge 76. [[[start-the-music\|This incident]]] made clear that UIU-4581 is equally capable of compelling instrumental musicians and trained vocalists. [[/div]]	2023-08-21T16:13:00	[ "aces-and-eights", "bones", "co-authored", "comedy", "gamers-against-weed", "military-fiction", "period-piece", "remixcon2023", "tale", "western" ]	So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea - SCP Foundation	40	[ "the-eternal-mxtape", "scp-4581", "start-the-music" ]	[ "the-eternal-mxtape", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "remixcon2023", "aces-and-eights" ]	[]	1449449087	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/so-we-sang-the-chorus-from-atlanta-to-the-sea
sol-and-sauelsuesor	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Adustjacket/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><span style="font-family: Zuijin;"><br/></span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Zuijin;"><br/> <br/></span> <p><span style="font-family: Zuijin;"><span style="font-size:200%;"><strong>Sol and Sauelsuesor</strong></span><br/> <em>Or: A Story of Little Stars Growing up in a Big World</em></span></p> </div> <br/> <p>Sol, like all the other Stars, was born in a giant explosion. The whole experience wasn't particularly unpleasant for him, of course: his first memory was the stellar symphony of nucleosynthesis followed by the empty embrace of outer space. A quite calming introduction to the cosmos for someone on the celestial scale, to be honest.</p> <p>In his first few eons of age, Sol — or Sauel, in the old tongue of the Stars, as mother and father called him — was but a toddler. He would crawl about in the stellar void, riding gamma rays and chasing comets across the early universe. After all, there was nothing to worry about. Even for a space-fairer, the horrors of the Dark Tapestry seemed far. Something for his elders to worry about, while he could continue in bliss.</p> <p>But still, the void of space grew cold and lonely in time. Soon, Sol would not be alone. Soon, he would have another Star as his peer. A sister.</p> <hr/> <p>Sauelsuesor, the Sun's Sister, would be born in time, and along with her a curiosity so bright it nearly went supernova. Sauelsuesor was smaller than her brother, but carried unique wisdom with her even since childhood. She was greatly skilled in school, and had an unmatched intuition for certain things: it seemed never much of a secret that young Sauelsuesor could peer into the cosmos with more than eyes. The two instantly got along, and spent their days playing together in the grand backyard of Oort.</p> <p>Their parents, giant clouds of celestial dust and gas, wanted the very best for their children. But they were poor, and an apartment near the Galactic Core ever so expensive. And so, they had to make a home for themselves outside the luxury of the big city. Growing up in the Orion Spur wasn’t easy for the two young Stars, and they didn’t have much. But they always had each other.</p> <p>Day after day was spent playing in the alleyways of void just outside the Spur. Building rock-castles in asteroid belts. Trading planets and moons with the Centauri kids next door. They had just enough to eat, and a list of toys to beg for that mother and father would never be able to buy them, but the two made their lives happy enough.</p> <hr/> <p>Sol and Sauelsuesor remember the ordinary things.</p> <p>They remember boarding the shuttle-nebula that took them to school every day and saying goodbye to their dog Pluto (a dwarf planet on a leash, but their parents never told them that: no Star knows what a "dog" is anyhow).</p> <p>They remember the tiresome white dwarf on said shuttle, always ranting about something for the whole ride.</p> <p>They remember being late, every morning, everywhere they went. Sauelsuesor would take what seemed like hours to put stardust in her hair, and Sol would sleep far too long, <em>far</em> too often.</p> <p>They remember the good times. The carnival and its tacky, themed rides. How mother and father worked two jobs each and saved up for so long to take them there.</p> <p>They remember the misadventures and mistakes. They remember when Sol was caught smoking. Smoking an asteroid, of course. He was only sixteen eons of age. Mother and father were not pleased.</p> <p>They remember when Sauelsuesor accidentally doused her alchemy instructor's laboratory aflame in a brilliant and spontaneous detonation of hydrogen plasma. He was surprisingly understanding.</p> <p>Coming of age wouldn't be easy for the Stars, and they didn’t have much. But they always had each other.</p> <hr/> <p>Eventually, Sol and Sauelsuesor had to become grown-ups.</p> <p>All Stars look down upon their orbiting worlds in childhood and are filled with the desire to help. All young Stars have a so-called "Pangloss Flame", that burns with great curiosity, guides them to help the planets and their people — to interfere for the greater good. <em>Most</em> Stars grow out of all this nonsense and learn their proper role in the cosmos, stalwart and apathetic as it is.</p> <p>In their teenage Eons, the pair had their fair share of these rebellious phases. Sauelsuesor <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-star-and-the-smith">once descended to the lower worlds and mingled with the Smiths</a> as they laid out the blueprints of the terrestrial realms, hoping to bridge the distance placed between their inhabitants and the custodians of the heavens. She was dissuaded of this in due time, for her parents thought contact between Terrestrials and Celestials to be trouble waiting to happen. Sol, for his part, also wandered away from home on occasion. He would seek to expand his flares across the whole galactic neighborhood of Orion, so he could offer his light to all in need of its warmth who were passing through. He, too, would be dissolved of this foolish notion.</p> <p>But mother and father reigned them in, and they eventually settled at the heart of their home system and became at peace with their place in the galaxy. Sol and Sauelsuesor would only observe as their native planets developed, as any good Star does.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The Stars do not often sing tragedies, but there is one more thing that must be said:</p> <p>There had been a third sibling, although they didn't speak of him much. In fact, hardly any soul across the realms is likely to know the real identity of the third.</p> <p>Sauelbhrātēr was Sol's baby brother, younger than even Sauelsuesor, and filled with so much hope. His Pangloss Flame never went out, and his passion for the lower worlds never mellowed. So did he love the tiny creatures of one such world, those who walked on two feet and lived under the light of Sol during the daytime as Children-under-the-Sun, that he would sneak down to Earth when mother and father weren't looking, day after day, and he would sing for them.</p> <p>One day, Sauelbhrātēr left home and moved to Earth for good. Sol and Saulsuesor weren't told. Mother and father weren't told. All of them were devastated. He <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-the-fire-die">took a new name</a>, distanced himself from the distantness of his fellow Stars, and lived among the Children-under-the-Sun. There, he saw them live and gather and rejoice — their lives so short, but with so much cheer and hope. He saw the Children-under-the-Sun live in fear of the Old Yeren; saw them driven out of the Night-dwellers' towering cities and into zoos and reservations. Not wanting them held back, he spread his fire, and gave the Children his gift. He hoped they would create their own utopia. Instead, they burnt away all the Old Yeren before them had built, and hunted them down with the wrath of a Star's fire.</p> <p>The flowers cried and cried and cried.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/sol-and-sauelsuesor">Binary Stars</a>" by Ampyrsand, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/sol-and-sauelsuesor">https://scpwiki.com/sol-and-sauelsuesor</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Sun symbol (fixed width).svg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Sun symbol (fixed width).svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Denis Moskowitz<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sun_symbol_(fixed_width).svg">Wikipedia</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Old symbol for sun.svg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Old symbol for sun.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> self (not myself; this is the name of the user who submitted the image)<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Old_symbol_for_sun.svg">Wikipedia</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Sol symbol (fixed width).svg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Sol symbol (fixed width).svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Kwamikagami<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sol_symbol_(fixed_width).svg">Wikipedia</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:dustjacket">:scp-wiki:theme:dustjacket</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[span style="font-family: Zuijin;"]] [[=]] [[size 200%]]Sol and Sauelsuesor[[/size]] //Or: A Story of Little Stars Growing up in a Big World// [[/=]] [[/span]] [[div_ class="fancyhr"]] ----- [[/div]] [[=]] [[size 10%]][[=image https://i.imgur.com/uInxzP5.png class="scene-break"]][[/size]] [[/=]] Sol, like all the other Stars, was born in a giant explosion. The whole experience wasn't particularly unpleasant for him, of course: his first memory was the stellar symphony of nucleosynthesis followed by the empty embrace of outer space. A quite calming introduction to the cosmos for someone on the celestial scale, to be honest. In his first few eons of age, Sol -- or Sauel, in the old tongue of the Stars, as mother and father called him -- was but a toddler. He would crawl about in the stellar void, riding gamma rays and chasing comets across the early universe. After all, there was nothing to worry about. Even for a space-fairer, the horrors of the Dark Tapestry seemed far. Something for his elders to worry about, while he could continue in bliss. But still, the void of space grew cold and lonely in time. Soon, Sol would not be alone. Soon, he would have another Star as his peer. A sister. ------ [[=]] [[size 10%]][[=image https://i.imgur.com/KPSrUS5.png class="scene-break"]][[/size]] [[/=]] Sauelsuesor, the Sun's Sister, would be born in time, and along with her a curiosity so bright it nearly went supernova. Sauelsuesor was smaller than her brother, but carried unique wisdom with her even since childhood. She was greatly skilled in school, and had an unmatched intuition for certain things: it seemed never much of a secret that young Sauelsuesor could peer into the cosmos with more than eyes. The two instantly got along, and spent their days playing together in the grand backyard of Oort. Their parents, giant clouds of celestial dust and gas, wanted the very best for their children. But they were poor, and an apartment near the Galactic Core ever so expensive. And so, they had to make a home for themselves outside the luxury of the big city. Growing up in the Orion Spur wasn’t easy for the two young Stars, and they didn’t have much. But they always had each other. Day after day was spent playing in the alleyways of void just outside the Spur. Building rock-castles in asteroid belts. Trading planets and moons with the Centauri kids next door. They had just enough to eat, and a list of toys to beg for that mother and father would never be able to buy them, but the two made their lives happy enough. ------ [[=]] [[size 10%]][[=image https://i.imgur.com/KPSrUS5.png class="scene-break"]][[/size]] [[/=]] Sol and Sauelsuesor remember the ordinary things. They remember boarding the shuttle-nebula that took them to school every day and saying goodbye to their dog Pluto (a dwarf planet on a leash, but their parents never told them that: no Star knows what a "dog" is anyhow). They remember the tiresome white dwarf on said shuttle, always ranting about something for the whole ride. They remember being late, every morning, everywhere they went. Sauelsuesor would take what seemed like hours to put stardust in her hair, and Sol would sleep far too long, //far// too often. They remember the good times. The carnival and its tacky, themed rides. How mother and father worked two jobs each and saved up for so long to take them there. They remember the misadventures and mistakes. They remember when Sol was caught smoking. Smoking an asteroid, of course. He was only sixteen eons of age. Mother and father were not pleased. They remember when Sauelsuesor accidentally doused her alchemy instructor's laboratory aflame in a brilliant and spontaneous detonation of hydrogen plasma. He was surprisingly understanding. Coming of age wouldn't be easy for the Stars, and they didn’t have much. But they always had each other. ------ [[=]] [[size 10%]][[=image https://i.imgur.com/KPSrUS5.png class="scene-break"]][[/size]] [[/=]] Eventually, Sol and Sauelsuesor had to become grown-ups. All Stars look down upon their orbiting worlds in childhood and are filled with the desire to help. All young Stars have a so-called "Pangloss Flame", that burns with great curiosity, guides them to help the planets and their people -- to interfere for the greater good. //Most// Stars grow out of all this nonsense and learn their proper role in the cosmos, stalwart and apathetic as it is. In their teenage Eons, the pair had their fair share of these rebellious phases. Sauelsuesor [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-star-and-the-smith \|once descended to the lower worlds and mingled with the Smiths]]] as they laid out the blueprints of the terrestrial realms, hoping to bridge the distance placed between their inhabitants and the custodians of the heavens. She was dissuaded of this in due time, for her parents thought contact between Terrestrials and Celestials to be trouble waiting to happen. Sol, for his part, also wandered away from home on occasion. He would seek to expand his flares across the whole galactic neighborhood of Orion, so he could offer his light to all in need of its warmth who were passing through. He, too, would be dissolved of this foolish notion. But mother and father reigned them in, and they eventually settled at the heart of their home system and became at peace with their place in the galaxy. Sol and Sauelsuesor would only observe as their native planets developed, as any good Star does. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div_ class="fancyhr"]] ----- [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ The Stars do not often sing tragedies, but there is one more thing that must be said: [[=]] [[size 10%]][[=image https://i.imgur.com/qG76l7t.png class="scene-break"]][[/size]] [[/=]] There had been a third sibling, although they didn't speak of him much. In fact, hardly any soul across the realms is likely to know the real identity of the third. Sauelbhrātēr was Sol's baby brother, younger than even Sauelsuesor, and filled with so much hope. His Pangloss Flame never went out, and his passion for the lower worlds never mellowed. So did he love the tiny creatures of one such world, those who walked on two feet and lived under the light of Sol during the daytime as Children-under-the-Sun, that he would sneak down to Earth when mother and father weren't looking, day after day, and he would sing for them. One day, Sauelbhrātēr left home and moved to Earth for good. Sol and Saulsuesor weren't told. Mother and father weren't told. All of them were devastated. He [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-the-fire-die \|took a new name]]], distanced himself from the distantness of his fellow Stars, and lived among the Children-under-the-Sun. There, he saw them live and gather and rejoice -- their lives so short, but with so much cheer and hope. He saw the Children-under-the-Sun live in fear of the Old Yeren; saw them driven out of the Night-dwellers' towering cities and into zoos and reservations. Not wanting them held back, he spread his fire, and gave the Children his gift. He hoped they would create their own utopia. Instead, they burnt away all the Old Yeren before them had built, and hunted them down with the wrath of a Star's fire. The flowers cried and cried and cried. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: Sun symbol (fixed width).svg > Name: Sun symbol (fixed width).svg > Author: Denis Moskowitz > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source: [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sun_symbol_(fixed_width).svg Wikipedia] > Filename: Old symbol for sun.svg > Name: Old symbol for sun.svg > Author: self (not myself; this is the name of the user who submitted the image) > License: Public Domain > Source: [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Old_symbol_for_sun.svg Wikipedia] > Filename: Sol symbol (fixed width).svg > Name: Sol symbol (fixed width).svg > Author: Kwamikagami > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source: [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sol_symbol_(fixed_width).svg Wikipedia] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[module CSS]] } .scene-break { /* -- Fancy Scene Break -- */ width: 6rem; margin: 2rem; } [[/module]]	2023-04-01T22:29:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "children-of-the-night", "pangloss", "sauelsuesor", "tale" ]	Binary Stars - SCP Foundation	22	[ "the-star-and-the-smith", "don-t-let-the-fire-die", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023" ]	[]	1447101446	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sol-and-sauelsuesor
soldier-of-misfortune	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Apresent-malice/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Apresent-malice/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Avalravn/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Soldier of Misfortune</strong><br/> <strong>Authors:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kilerpoyo" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6852037); return false;"><img alt="Kilerpoyo" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6852037&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735053317" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6852037)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/kilerpoyo" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6852037); return false;">Kilerpoyo</a></span><br/> ⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article contains a content warning: Drug trafficking, Drug Violence, War on Drugs, Substance Abuse, War, Violence</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="papernote"> <p>Corporal Francisco Santa Villa joined the army for the promise of a better life. Having knocked up his high-school sweetheart, a working-class boy had limited options to get ahead. Tired of breaking his back at the <em>maquila</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup>, he finally decided to pick a side: the army or the cartels.</p> <p>He had chosen the former, maybe out of a misplaced sense of naive patriotism. Soon, the raw reality of service crushed any romantic ideas of military heroism and adventure he may had have. For the most part, he battled boredom and heat during patrol and checkpoint duty, knowing fully that at any moment the boredom could be broken by the sudden gunshots of a cartel ambush. He saw many of his companions fall to treacherous bullets. One day he got lucky with his gun: five dead <em>narcos</em>. He had no idea how had he managed to survive that day, let alone kill all of the ambushers. His officer gave him a pat on the back and told him: "People upstairs have taken notice. Big fishes. Expect some good news soon."</p> <p>"Good news soon…" One can only dream. The pay was not great but also not bad and, when his wife got sick, he was grateful for the military healthcare. Even if he died, the pension would be there for his family. Yet he truly never let go of his dreams of adventure. He always harbored the feeling that, if he stuck and survived long enough, something good would be waiting for him. Could this finally be his call?</p> <p>"You have been chosen. Good job, soldier."</p> <p>It has been too little time to assimilate too much information. Secret societies, magic, aliens… all of the crazy stuff from the movies… it was all real. He had been chosen and now the veil was lifted from his eyes. He was part of the few in the know: the protectors of society against the darkness lurking below. He was called to join <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7269">CALMECAC's</a><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> finest, an elite strike force against the demonic-powered cartels. No more endless days of boredom, no more waiting to get shot in the back without warning. Now he was one of the Big Guys with the Big Guns. He would finally get to be the hero of his daydreams. He would finally get to strike them hard right where it hurt them the most. And of course, the payment has gone up considerably. His family could never know the secret, they would never understand the true importance of his fight… but they will also never know poverty again.</p> <p>Not bad at all for a poor boy from Juárez.</p> <hr/> <p>At Langeley, frustration was the daily bread for Agent Millard. Dealing with bureaucracy had always been a pain in the ass, but now working at the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6038">GGCD</a><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup>, things were excruciatingly slow. While nominally part of the Foundation, Global Geopolitics served, in theory, as a joint command for the main governmental anomalous organizations to coordinate and collaborate in matters of global stability. In reality, it was a melting pot of contrarian interests and incompatible philosophies, a tug-of-war between Pentagram and the GOC, and a social experiment in modern political tribalism. However, Millard was neither disappointed nor surprised. He was all about <em>realpolitik</em>. He was hired to do a job; keeping the Foundation and the Agency from killing each other was just part of the morning routine.</p> <p>If there is Demand, Supply will rise to fulfill it. It was a force of nature, like gravity and sex. You can not stop the drug trade, that is a brute fact. But you can control it; in truth, even if destruction was possible, control would always be more desirable. There were evils and necessary evils: the Agency simply made a deal with the necessary devils. Yet good luck explaining the nuance to those fools in A-DEA<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup>. Their main and only concern was upping raid numbers and seizing even bigger batches of confiscated <em>arca</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup> to burn for their own congratulation. And with their shortsightedness, they were just about to also burn years of hard work and meticulous planning from Millard.</p> <p>Trying to reason with them was fruitless. At this point, they were just straight-up ignoring his calls. The message was clear, they were not calling off the raid, and Millard and the whole CPIA<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup> could go fuck themselves. "So be it, no more half-measures." said Millard to himself as he dialed the contact on his phone saved under the name of "Crows."</p> <p>"Millard, what a pleasant surprise. The Corporation was not expecting a call from the Agency this week."</p> <p>"<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7279">Goikoetxea</a>, A-DEA is going to fuck us all. They are planning a raid… a big one on Sin Nombre. The Warehouse in Juárez. They have CALMECAC, the Mexican Army, and the State Police on board as well. Even the Foundation and the UIU are sending observers."</p> <p>"That would be inconvenient. When are planning to strike?"</p> <p>"I'm working to get the specifics. But it will be soon… too soon."</p> <p>"Is there anything you can do to call it off? Are they aware of the situation?"</p> <p>"Yes, but they won't listen. They don't seem to understand that in order to win the race you need to bet on the better horse."</p> <p>"Sin Nombre is about to launch an offensive on <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2961">Los Ocultos</a>. One of their biggest bases getting raided will not be good for the operation."</p> <p>"It can be stopped at this point. But they can be prepared to take the hit. I will have all the details soon… can you pass the message?"</p> <p>"Of course. Ravens are the best carriers of bad news, after all. I will make sure they understand this was out of our control." The mercenary paused for a few seconds, considering their options. "You know the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-men-with-no-name">Men With No Name</a> won't show any mercy on anyone fool enough to defy them in their <em>plaza</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-7" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-7')">7</a></sup>. What I mean is that high casualties should be expected if they are warned."</p> <p>"A shame but there was going to be a bloodshed no matter what. A-DEA should have known better before leading a suicide charge."</p> <p>On the other side of the phone, the Crow smiled.</p> <p>"Expensive lessons are the hardest to forget, don't you agree?"</p> <hr/> <p>Corporal Francisco Santa Villa could not remember anything about the day he lost his legs. He could not remember much from the weeks before, for that matter. Memory loss from a concussion during duty was the doctor's verdict. Honorable discharge due to impairment was the one from the bureaucrats. It has been a rough year, they said, the pension budget had been severely cut, unfortunately. He was told to not despair as his military background would make him desirable in the private sector. As if there was a thriving job market for a legless man.</p> <p>They all walked into a trap: the place was rigged with explosives. Somewhere along the chain of command, someone tipped the cartel. Very few survived. "You are a lucky man," Francisco was told. Could you even call that luck? Every night he had the same dream. Entering the Warehouse in Juarez. Blood and gunshots. Fire and explosion. And howls… the howls of beastly creatures, festering on the flesh of his comrades… festering on… his legs. Long past were the nights when he woke up screaming and sweating in terror. Now he just stared at the ceiling, dead eyes watching the darkness. The dead silence of the night was pierced by the rumbling sound of the CPAP machine that allowed his wife to breathe. Sleep apnea was an expensive mistress. Medical bills kept coming and coming. His family no longer applied for military healthcare and public hospitals did not have the necessary equipment; private healthcare was a luxurious parasite slowly eating them up.</p> <p>An unusual message in his email inbox. A vague job offering and the place and date for an interview. The only signature, a strange v-shaped logo. Surely some kind of joke or scam… but whatever? At least it was a breakaway from monotony. He may as well go along. That is how he ended up inside that dim-lighted office, sharing a table with that strange-looking corpo dressed totally in black.</p> <p>"Before anything else, I would like to thank, you on behalf of my organization, for taking the time to meet with us." The suit paused briefly… "Coffee or tea"?</p> <p>"Coffee," said Francisco. "I'm not sure I understand what this is about…"</p> <p>"A job opportunity of course. Just as the mail said."</p> <p>"What type of job?" asked Francisco as he drank the coffee.</p> <p>"A military one, of course. You have the experience we are looking for."</p> <p>"Are you private security?"</p> <p>"Sort of. We provide military services at an international level."</p> <p>"You are mercenaries…"</p> <p>"We prefer the term Private Military Company."</p> <p>"Is this some type of desk job? Administrative?"</p> <p>"Of course not. We would never waste your talent like that. We want you in the field…"</p> <p>The veteran almost laughed. "Is this a joke? Is your hiring policy to mock disabled servicemen?"</p> <p>"We are dead serious. Your… condition… won't be an impediment for much longer."</p> <p>"What the fuck are you talking about? Are you going to make grow a new pair?"</p> <p>"Not only just a pair…"</p> <p>"<em>¡Hazme el chingado favor!</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-8" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-8')">8</a></sup>"</p> <p>"Do you remember the night you lost your legs?"</p> <p>"What? Why the hell are you asking?"</p> <p>"They did you dirty, didn't they? Sending you to the Den of the Beast without proper training or equipment, just to walk into a trap and get torn apart. And what do they do once they no longer find you useful as cannon fodder? They mind-rape you and take away your memories. What a disgusting lack of trust in their own men. Believe me, we will never treat you like that. Doesn't matter what the injury, you will never stop being valuable to us."</p> <p>Francisco's vision began to blur. For a brief moment, he could swear he saw two black wings extending from the recruiter's back and towards him, embracing the veteran in a feathered darkness. He blinked and the vision was gone… was it?</p> <p>"I… I have to go…" A sudden dizziness prevented Francisco from completing the sentence. He had felt uncomfortable since the beginning, certainly, the suit gave him the creeps. But there was something else: a burning feeling inside his guts, slowly creeping through his throat. As if trying to reach and burn his brains.</p> <p>"They lied in the mission report. You were not crippled by an IED<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-9" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-9')">9</a></sup>. You did not lose your legs to something so… mundane. You faced <em>nahual sicarios</em> and survived. You even managed to blow the jaw of one of them. Be proud of that, legs are a small price for that honor. Taking this memory from you was so… cruel. But don't worry, I took the liberty to put a mnestic drug in your coffee. It is still experimental, we would like the recovered memories to be more concise… yet mostly safe. It should start taking effect…" The man took a small pocket watch from his vest. "Right now."</p> <p>Before Francisco had time to process, memories pierced his mind like needles full of tiny dancing angels. He remembered a promotion: something about a foundation and an empty promise to join the true protectors of the world. He remembered the brief about angelic drugs and demonic <em>narcos</em>. And he remembered the Warehouse and the beastly creatures stalking the darkness inside it.</p> <p>"It was real. Everything was real…" His voice began to crumble. "The team. They were devoured alive. I saw it. Then… my legs… that thing ate them…" He felt the acid in his stomach coming up through his throat.</p> <p>"You stared into the abyss and survived the abyss staring back. I know it may be too much to assimilate, but I reiterate you should be proud. May I offer you a benzodiazepine?"</p> <p>"Those things… those were the monsters from horror folktales… those were not supposed to exist." Cried the veteran. "What the hell is going on?" He gasped for air, barely breathing at this point.</p> <p>"Are you feeling well, Sr. Santa Villa? Please let us know of any side effects of the mnestic drug you may be feeling." He briefly paused as he scanned the distressed veteran. "You look like someone who could really use a benzo." The man in black took a small mint box from one of his pockets. He opened it to reveal a collection of pills and offered them to the veteran. "Is Xanax fine?"</p> <p>The veteran grabbed two pills and dry-swallowed them. A comfortable numbness traveled through his body as he began to calm down. He took one deep breath…</p> <p>"Who the hell are you?"</p> <p>"Me? I'm just HR. But we, as a whole, are the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/valravn-corporation-hub">Valravn Corporation</a>. Let me tell you a story. A long time ago there was a bloody battle. Details are irrelevant, the important fact is that both armies suffered heavy losses. Countless fierce warriors on both sides fell that day. So who really won the battle? Crows and ravens. They fed from the corpses and grew strong. They became warriors themselves. We like to think we are like those corvids." He paused for a moment before adding: " It doesn't matter who wins the battle, we always win when there is war."</p> <p>Francisco remained silent for a few minutes. Everything felt so dreamlike, yet it made sense in a twisted way. The legends of old were real; secret societies and world governments gaslighted the world and played chess with the lives of the ignorant masses. Meanwhile, the wicked shredded their skin to stalk the night as beasts on behalf of the cartels and man-eating crows directed the military-industrial complex. Was it really so surprising? It didn't make any sense… but when has the "normal world" ever made sense? If anything, the Anomalous and the so-called Normalcy shared the same fundamental senselessness. "As above so below." There was really nothing remarkable about these secret organizations. Their methods may be abnormal… but their goals and ambitions were as mundane as anything else.</p> <p>"They were waiting for us. Do you know who sold us?"</p> <p>"Not yet… but we will. Such treachery shall not go unpunished."</p> <p>"I want to be there went it's done… if only I could settle the score."</p> <p>"Of course. The score will be settled."</p> <p>"Can you really do it? Can you really give me back my legs?"</p> <p>"Yes. We can make you whole again. More than whole, actually."</p> <p>"Will I walk again?"</p> <p>"Walk? No, my friend. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-chiron-model">You will never have to walk again</a>."</p> </div> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="SCP-7279"> <p><a href="/scp-7279">SCP-7279</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Cartel Land"> <p><a href="/">Cartel Land</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="The Empty Man"> <p><a href="/uiu-file-2020-289">The Empty Man</a></p> </div> </div> <br/> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Duty-free and tariff-free manufacturing facilities set in the México-USA, infamous for their poor working conditions.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. <em>Comandancia de Armamento y Logística Mexicana para el Control de Amenazas Contranaturales.</em> (Mexican Armament and Logistic Command for the Control of Unnatural Menaces). Anomalous branch of <em>Secretaría de la Defensa Nacional</em>, SEDENA (Secretariat of National Defense).</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. Global Geopolitics and Counterinsurgency Department. Foundation's Department in charge of handling anomalous matters that can affect international political stability, such as militant and armed rebel groups with anomalous capabilities.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Abnomal Drugs Enforcement Administration.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. Arca or Arcángel. An anomalous empathogen stimulant synthesized from the blood of an angelic being.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. Central Paranormal Intelligence Agency.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-7"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-7')">7</a>. Turf or territory under the control of a cartel, usually with the complicity of local authorities.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-8"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-8')">8</a>. Give me a fucking break!</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-9"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-9')">9</a>. Improvised explosive device.</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/soldier-of-misfortune">Soldier Of Misfortune</a>" by Kilerpoyo, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/soldier-of-misfortune">https://scpwiki.com/soldier-of-misfortune</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:present-malice">:scp-wiki:theme:present-malice</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:valravn">:scp-wiki:theme:valravn</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Soldier of Misfortune Authors: [[user Kilerpoyo]] ⚠️ Content warning:* This article contains a content warning: Drug trafficking, Drug Violence, War on Drugs, Substance Abuse, War, Violence [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] @@ @@ [[div class="papernote"]] Corporal Francisco Santa Villa joined the army for the promise of a better life. Having knocked up his high-school sweetheart, a working-class boy had limited options to get ahead. Tired of breaking his back at the //maquila//[[footnote]] Duty-free and tariff-free manufacturing facilities set in the México-USA, infamous for their poor working conditions.[[/footnote]], he finally decided to pick a side: the army or the cartels. He had chosen the former, maybe out of a misplaced sense of naive patriotism. Soon, the raw reality of service crushed any romantic ideas of military heroism and adventure he may had have. For the most part, he battled boredom and heat during patrol and checkpoint duty, knowing fully that at any moment the boredom could be broken by the sudden gunshots of a cartel ambush. He saw many of his companions fall to treacherous bullets. One day he got lucky with his gun: five dead //narcos//. He had no idea how had he managed to survive that day, let alone kill all of the ambushers. His officer gave him a pat on the back and told him: "People upstairs have taken notice. Big fishes. Expect some good news soon." "Good news soon..." One can only dream. The pay was not great but also not bad and, when his wife got sick, he was grateful for the military healthcare. Even if he died, the pension would be there for his family. Yet he truly never let go of his dreams of adventure. He always harbored the feeling that, if he stuck and survived long enough, something good would be waiting for him. Could this finally be his call? "You have been chosen. Good job, soldier." It has been too little time to assimilate too much information. Secret societies, magic, aliens... all of the crazy stuff from the movies... it was all real. He had been chosen and now the veil was lifted from his eyes. He was part of the few in the know: the protectors of society against the darkness lurking below. He was called to join [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7269 \| CALMECAC's]]][[footnote]] //Comandancia de Armamento y Logística Mexicana para el Control de Amenazas Contranaturales.// (Mexican Armament and Logistic Command for the Control of Unnatural Menaces). Anomalous branch of //Secretaría de la Defensa Nacional//, SEDENA (Secretariat of National Defense). [[/footnote]] finest, an elite strike force against the demonic-powered cartels. No more endless days of boredom, no more waiting to get shot in the back without warning. Now he was one of the Big Guys with the Big Guns. He would finally get to be the hero of his daydreams. He would finally get to strike them hard right where it hurt them the most. And of course, the payment has gone up considerably. His family could never know the secret, they would never understand the true importance of his fight... but they will also never know poverty again. Not bad at all for a poor boy from Juárez. ----- At Langeley, frustration was the daily bread for Agent Millard. Dealing with bureaucracy had always been a pain in the ass, but now working at the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6038 \| GGCD]]][[footnote]]Global Geopolitics and Counterinsurgency Department. Foundation's Department in charge of handling anomalous matters that can affect international political stability, such as militant and armed rebel groups with anomalous capabilities.[[/footnote]], things were excruciatingly slow. While nominally part of the Foundation, Global Geopolitics served, in theory, as a joint command for the main governmental anomalous organizations to coordinate and collaborate in matters of global stability. In reality, it was a melting pot of contrarian interests and incompatible philosophies, a tug-of-war between Pentagram and the GOC, and a social experiment in modern political tribalism. However, Millard was neither disappointed nor surprised. He was all about //realpolitik//. He was hired to do a job; keeping the Foundation and the Agency from killing each other was just part of the morning routine. If there is Demand, Supply will rise to fulfill it. It was a force of nature, like gravity and sex. You can not stop the drug trade, that is a brute fact. But you can control it; in truth, even if destruction was possible, control would always be more desirable. There were evils and necessary evils: the Agency simply made a deal with the necessary devils. Yet good luck explaining the nuance to those fools in A-DEA[[footnote]]Abnomal Drugs Enforcement Administration.[[/footnote]]. Their main and only concern was upping raid numbers and seizing even bigger batches of confiscated //arca//[[footnote]]Arca or Arcángel. An anomalous empathogen stimulant synthesized from the blood of an angelic being.[[/footnote]] to burn for their own congratulation. And with their shortsightedness, they were just about to also burn years of hard work and meticulous planning from Millard. Trying to reason with them was fruitless. At this point, they were just straight-up ignoring his calls. The message was clear, they were not calling off the raid, and Millard and the whole CPIA[[footnote]]Central Paranormal Intelligence Agency.[[/footnote]] could go fuck themselves. "So be it, no more half-measures." said Millard to himself as he dialed the contact on his phone saved under the name of "Crows." "Millard, what a pleasant surprise. The Corporation was not expecting a call from the Agency this week." "[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7279\| Goikoetxea]]], A-DEA is going to fuck us all. They are planning a raid... a big one on Sin Nombre. The Warehouse in Juárez. They have CALMECAC, the Mexican Army, and the State Police on board as well. Even the Foundation and the UIU are sending observers." "That would be inconvenient. When are planning to strike?" "I'm working to get the specifics. But it will be soon... too soon." "Is there anything you can do to call it off? Are they aware of the situation?" "Yes, but they won't listen. They don't seem to understand that in order to win the race you need to bet on the better horse." "Sin Nombre is about to launch an offensive on [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2961\| Los Ocultos]]]. One of their biggest bases getting raided will not be good for the operation." "It can be stopped at this point. But they can be prepared to take the hit. I will have all the details soon... can you pass the message?" "Of course. Ravens are the best carriers of bad news, after all. I will make sure they understand this was out of our control." The mercenary paused for a few seconds, considering their options. "You know the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-men-with-no-name\| Men With No Name]]] won't show any mercy on anyone fool enough to defy them in their //plaza//[[footnote]]Turf or territory under the control of a cartel, usually with the complicity of local authorities.[[/footnote]]. What I mean is that high casualties should be expected if they are warned." "A shame but there was going to be a bloodshed no matter what. A-DEA should have known better before leading a suicide charge." On the other side of the phone, the Crow smiled. "Expensive lessons are the hardest to forget, don't you agree?" ---- Corporal Francisco Santa Villa could not remember anything about the day he lost his legs. He could not remember much from the weeks before, for that matter. Memory loss from a concussion during duty was the doctor's verdict. Honorable discharge due to impairment was the one from the bureaucrats. It has been a rough year, they said, the pension budget had been severely cut, unfortunately. He was told to not despair as his military background would make him desirable in the private sector. As if there was a thriving job market for a legless man. They all walked into a trap: the place was rigged with explosives. Somewhere along the chain of command, someone tipped the cartel. Very few survived. "You are a lucky man," Francisco was told. Could you even call that luck? Every night he had the same dream. Entering the Warehouse in Juarez. Blood and gunshots. Fire and explosion. And howls... the howls of beastly creatures, festering on the flesh of his comrades... festering on... his legs. Long past were the nights when he woke up screaming and sweating in terror. Now he just stared at the ceiling, dead eyes watching the darkness. The dead silence of the night was pierced by the rumbling sound of the CPAP machine that allowed his wife to breathe. Sleep apnea was an expensive mistress. Medical bills kept coming and coming. His family no longer applied for military healthcare and public hospitals did not have the necessary equipment; private healthcare was a luxurious parasite slowly eating them up. An unusual message in his email inbox. A vague job offering and the place and date for an interview. The only signature, a strange v-shaped logo. Surely some kind of joke or scam... but whatever? At least it was a breakaway from monotony. He may as well go along. That is how he ended up inside that dim-lighted office, sharing a table with that strange-looking corpo dressed totally in black. "Before anything else, I would like to thank, you on behalf of my organization, for taking the time to meet with us." The suit paused briefly... "Coffee or tea"? "Coffee," said Francisco. "I'm not sure I understand what this is about..." "A job opportunity of course. Just as the mail said." "What type of job?" asked Francisco as he drank the coffee. "A military one, of course. You have the experience we are looking for." "Are you private security?" "Sort of. We provide military services at an international level." "You are mercenaries..." "We prefer the term Private Military Company." "Is this some type of desk job? Administrative?" "Of course not. We would never waste your talent like that. We want you in the field..." The veteran almost laughed. "Is this a joke? Is your hiring policy to mock disabled servicemen?" "We are dead serious. Your... condition... won't be an impediment for much longer." "What the fuck are you talking about? Are you going to make grow a new pair?" "Not only just a pair..." "//¡Hazme el chingado favor!//[[footnote]]Give me a fucking break![[/footnote]]" "Do you remember the night you lost your legs?" "What? Why the hell are you asking?" "They did you dirty, didn't they? Sending you to the Den of the Beast without proper training or equipment, just to walk into a trap and get torn apart. And what do they do once they no longer find you useful as cannon fodder? They mind-rape you and take away your memories. What a disgusting lack of trust in their own men. Believe me, we will never treat you like that. Doesn't matter what the injury, you will never stop being valuable to us." Francisco's vision began to blur. For a brief moment, he could swear he saw two black wings extending from the recruiter's back and towards him, embracing the veteran in a feathered darkness. He blinked and the vision was gone... was it? "I... I have to go..." A sudden dizziness prevented Francisco from completing the sentence. He had felt uncomfortable since the beginning, certainly, the suit gave him the creeps. But there was something else: a burning feeling inside his guts, slowly creeping through his throat. As if trying to reach and burn his brains. "They lied in the mission report. You were not crippled by an IED[[footnote]]Improvised explosive device.[[/footnote]]. You did not lose your legs to something so... mundane. You faced //nahual sicarios// and survived. You even managed to blow the jaw of one of them. Be proud of that, legs are a small price for that honor. Taking this memory from you was so... cruel. But don't worry, I took the liberty to put a mnestic drug in your coffee. It is still experimental, we would like the recovered memories to be more concise... yet mostly safe. It should start taking effect..." The man took a small pocket watch from his vest. "Right now." Before Francisco had time to process, memories pierced his mind like needles full of tiny dancing angels. He remembered a promotion: something about a foundation and an empty promise to join the true protectors of the world. He remembered the brief about angelic drugs and demonic //narcos//. And he remembered the Warehouse and the beastly creatures stalking the darkness inside it. "It was real. Everything was real..." His voice began to crumble. "The team. They were devoured alive. I saw it. Then... my legs... that thing ate them..." He felt the acid in his stomach coming up through his throat. "You stared into the abyss and survived the abyss staring back. I know it may be too much to assimilate, but I reiterate you should be proud. May I offer you a benzodiazepine?" "Those things... those were the monsters from horror folktales... those were not supposed to exist." Cried the veteran. "What the hell is going on?" He gasped for air, barely breathing at this point. "Are you feeling well, Sr. Santa Villa? Please let us know of any side effects of the mnestic drug you may be feeling." He briefly paused as he scanned the distressed veteran. "You look like someone who could really use a benzo." The man in black took a small mint box from one of his pockets. He opened it to reveal a collection of pills and offered them to the veteran. "Is Xanax fine?" The veteran grabbed two pills and dry-swallowed them. A comfortable numbness traveled through his body as he began to calm down. He took one deep breath... "Who the hell are you?" "Me? I'm just HR. But we, as a whole, are the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/valravn-corporation-hub\| Valravn Corporation]]]. Let me tell you a story. A long time ago there was a bloody battle. Details are irrelevant, the important fact is that both armies suffered heavy losses. Countless fierce warriors on both sides fell that day. So who really won the battle? Crows and ravens. They fed from the corpses and grew strong. They became warriors themselves. We like to think we are like those corvids." He paused for a moment before adding: " It doesn't matter who wins the battle, we always win when there is war." Francisco remained silent for a few minutes. Everything felt so dreamlike, yet it made sense in a twisted way. The legends of old were real; secret societies and world governments gaslighted the world and played chess with the lives of the ignorant masses. Meanwhile, the wicked shredded their skin to stalk the night as beasts on behalf of the cartels and man-eating crows directed the military-industrial complex. Was it really so surprising? It didn't make any sense... but when has the "normal world" ever made sense? If anything, the Anomalous and the so-called Normalcy shared the same fundamental senselessness. "As above so below." There was really nothing remarkable about these secret organizations. Their methods may be abnormal... but their goals and ambitions were as mundane as anything else. "They were waiting for us. Do you know who sold us?" "Not yet... but we will. Such treachery shall not go unpunished." "I want to be there went it's done... if only I could settle the score." "Of course. The score will be settled." "Can you really do it? Can you really give me back my legs?" "Yes. We can make you whole again. More than whole, actually." "Will I walk again?" "Walk? No, my friend. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-chiron-model \| You will never have to walk again]]]." [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false\| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/scp-7279 \| previous-title=SCP-7279 \| next-url=/uiu-file-2020-289 \| next-title= The Empty Man \| hub-url=/ \| hub-title=Cartel Land ]] [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Kilerpoyo]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-09-29T08:20:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "crime-fiction", "military-fiction", "our-open-veins", "tale", "valravn", "worldbuilding" ]	Soldier Of Misfortune - SCP Foundation	12	[ "scp-7269", "scp-6038", "scp-7279", "scp-2961", "the-men-with-no-name", "valravn-corporation-hub", "the-chiron-model", "uiu-file-2020-289", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "our-open-veins-hub" ]	[]	1450228345	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/soldier-of-misfortune
something-burning	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aa-problematic-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aa-problematic-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>It smells like heat.<br/> Burning, burning.<br/> Shit, it's hot.<br/> My lungs are choking.<br/> It smells like smoke.<br/> Churning, churning.<br/> Fuck, it's hot.<br/> My throat is closing.</p> <p>Damn, man.<br/> What's this, man?<br/> Something's burning, man.<br/> Something's burning, man.</p> <p>Tastes like ember.<br/> Ashes, ashes.<br/> God damn, it's hot.<br/> Eyes are watering.<br/> Tastes like coal.<br/> Fire, fire.<br/> Ugh, it's hot.<br/> The smoke is rising.</p> <p>Damn, man.<br/> This sucks, man.<br/> Something's burning, man.<br/> The fuck is burning, man?</p> <p>Man. Man, god damn.<br/> Something's burning.<br/> Don't know why but<br/> Something's burning.<br/> Wait a minute.<br/> Wait a minute.<br/> The fire's coming<br/> From the kitchen.</p> <p>Wait, wait.<br/> Wait, hold<br/> The phone.<br/> What's that burning?</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>Oh, it's my toast.<br/> I burnt my toast.<br/> My toast is burnt.<br/> Something's burning.<br/> Yeah, that's my toast.<br/> Pop out burnt with<br/> an odd message.</p> <p>Burnt on the toast.<br/> Burnt on the toast.<br/> What's it say?<br/> What's it say?<br/> It says to go…</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>To go "fuck yourself."</p> <p>Damn.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <img alt="toasted.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/something-burning/toasted.jpg" width="400px"/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><em>Also, where the fuck is my toaster?</em></span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-no {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="#NialMustBeFlushed"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nial-must-be-flushed">#NialMustBeFlushed</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="THE APPLIANCE WAR"> <p><a href="/">THE APPLIANCE WAR</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="ALight"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/alight">ALight</a></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>winkwonkboi's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6039">SCP-6039</a> <em>(+72)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3204">SCP-3204</a> <em>(+73)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6199">SCP-6199</a> <em>(+137)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8386">SCP-8386</a> <em>(+33)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2689">SCP-2689</a> <em>(+53)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7199">SCP-7199</a> <em>(+44)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5358">SCP-5358</a> <em>(+55)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5245">SCP-5245</a> <em>(+50)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6895">SCP-6895</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7816">SCP-7816</a> <em>(+61)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7538">SCP-7538</a> <em>(+110)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6545">SCP-6545</a> <em>(+76)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8184">SCP-8184</a> <em>(+8)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8245">SCP-8245</a> <em>(+77)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7657">SCP-7657</a> <em>(+40)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/roses-and-thorns">Roses And Thorns</a> <em>(+18)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/aeed-orientation">Anomalous Entity Engagement Division Orientation</a> <em>(+52)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-miss-cassandra">Critter Profile: Miss Cassandra!</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/inkirbycase1">In Kirby's Case, Part I: An Antithesis</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/people-care-dear">People Care, Dear</a> <em>(+14)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/man-overboard">man overboard!</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/water-diet">water diet</a> <em>(+27)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/ur-typical-unrequited-love">ur typical unrequited love</a> <em>(+33)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/employee-of-the-century">Why Jones Marcel Should Be Employee of the Century</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-sinking-feeling">A Sinking Feeling</a> <em>(+26)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/goodnight-sweet-dreams">Goodnight, Sweet Dreams</a> <em>(+21)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-taste-for-sore-eyes">A Taste For Sore Eyes</a> <em>(+12)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/wettle-appreciation-post">#WettleAppreciationPost</a> <em>(+136)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/in-an-attempt-to-feel-something">In an attempt to feel something.</a> <em>(+32)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:collection-of-trolls">Collection Of Trolls (8999 Fanart)</a> <em>(+89)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:king-calcaruler-halloween-emperor">King CalcaRuler: Halloween Emperor</a> <em>(+29)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:fading-stars-doodles">fading stars doodles (straight from my phone's sketchbook app)</a> <em>(+35)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:certified-criminal">Certified Criminal</a> <em>(+36)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:ditto-6869-fanart">DITTO: SCP-#### Fanart</a> <em>(+42)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:7k-doodles">7K DOODLES</a> <em>(+72)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:a-lack-of-care">a lack of care.</a> <em>(+28)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:respond-tmo-fanart">RESPOND: Telecommunications Monitoring Office Fanart</a> <em>(+48)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:combust-6057-fanart">COMBUST: SCP-6057 Fanart</a> <em>(+22)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:noticed-7345-fanart">NOTICED: SCP-7345 Fanart</a> <em>(+19)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:crackhead-173-fanart">CRACKHEAD: SCP-173 Fanart</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:sciptember-doodles">SCiPTEMBER DOODLES</a> <em>(+23)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:fisher-2689-fanart">FISHER: SCP-2689 Fanart</a> <em>(+24)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:froot-froggo">froot froggo :)</a> <em>(+41)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-winkwonk-page">the winkwonk page v2</a> <em>(+38)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/something-burning">Something's Burning</a>" by winkwonkboi, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/something-burning">https://scpwiki.com/something-burning</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> toasted<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Random slice of toast<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Peter O'Connor aka anemoneprojectors<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/58414938@N00/3534597062">Flickr</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/barbarous-bread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6880816); return false;"><img alt="Barbarous Bread" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6880816&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043970" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6880816)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/barbarous-bread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6880816); return false;">Barbarous Bread</a></span></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:a-problematic-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:a-problematic-theme</a> version=1]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-subtitle: "Problematic Breakfast"; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] It smells like heat. Burning, burning. Shit, it's hot. My lungs are choking. It smells like smoke. Churning, churning. Fuck, it's hot. My throat is closing. Damn, man. What's this, man? Something's burning, man. Something's burning, man. Tastes like ember. Ashes, ashes. God damn, it's hot. Eyes are watering. Tastes like coal. Fire, fire. Ugh, it's hot. The smoke is rising. Damn, man. This sucks, man. Something's burning, man. The fuck is burning, man? Man. Man, god damn. Something's burning. Don't know why but Something's burning. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. The fire's coming From the kitchen. Wait, wait. Wait, hold The phone. What's that burning? … … … Oh, it's my toast. I burnt my toast. My toast is burnt. Something's burning. Yeah, that's my toast. Pop out burnt with an odd message. Burnt on the toast. Burnt on the toast. What's it say? What's it say? It says to go… … … To go "fuck yourself." Damn. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/something-burning/toasted.jpg width="400px"]] @@ @@ [[size 75%]]//Also, where the fuck is my toaster?//[[/size]] [[/=]] ~~~~ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=no \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nial-must-be-flushed \| previous-title=#NialMustBeFlushed \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/alight \| next-title=ALight \| hub-url=/ \| hub-title=THE APPLIANCE WAR ]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=winkwonkboi]] ===== > Filename: toasted > Name: Random slice of toast > Author: Peter O'Connor aka anemoneprojectors > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/58414938@N00/3534597062 Flickr] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[*user Barbarous Bread]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-07-31T07:24:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "appliance-war", "comedy", "first-person", "no-dialogue", "poetry", "tale" ]	Something's Burning - SCP Foundation	40	[ "nial-must-be-flushed", "alight", "scp-6039", "scp-3204", "scp-6199", "scp-8386", "scp-2689", "scp-7199", "scp-5358", "scp-5245", "scp-6895", "scp-7816", "scp-7538", "scp-6545", "scp-8184", "scp-8245", "scp-7657", "roses-and-thorns", "aeed-orientation", "critter-profile-miss-cassandra", "inkirbycase1", "people-care-dear", "man-overboard", "water-diet", "ur-typical-unrequited-love", "employee-of-the-century", "a-sinking-feeling", "goodnight-sweet-dreams", "a-taste-for-sore-eyes", "wettle-appreciation-post", "in-an-attempt-to-feel-something", "art:collection-of-trolls", "art:king-calcaruler-halloween-emperor", "art:fading-stars-doodles", "art:certified-criminal", "art:ditto-6869-fanart", "art:7k-doodles", "art:a-lack-of-care", "art:respond-tmo-fanart", "art:combust-6057-fanart", "art:noticed-7345-fanart", "art:crackhead-173-fanart", "art:sciptember-doodles", "art:fisher-2689-fanart", "art:froot-froggo", "the-winkwonk-page", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-appliance-war-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "black-highlighter-themes" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/something-burning/toasted.jpg" ]	1449218165	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/something-burning
somewhere-empty	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>With SCP-285 in containment and GAW in disarray, Wren Masterson hitches a ride into Utah to settle the score with two anomalous terrorists.</p> </div> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Content Warnings</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">This is to go... EVEN FURTHER BEYOND!</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>This is a story about crossing lines, fulfilling debts with your chosen family, and high-energy shonen violence. It also involves a knife attack and a surprising amount of vomit.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>Ken and Jordan found each other west of Salt Lake City, on an unpaved road snaking through the mountains. The siblings had camped out there twice before when they were younger, so it was easy enough to find the place again. It just took time. Precious days, traveling over back roads and rough terrain, until they were finally reunited: brothers in arms.</p> <p>"Fuckin' A, man. It's good to see you." Jordan was younger and bigger, powerfully built, with tattoos that spelled out a world of contempt for authority. His thick brown hair was growing back out, but it was still a prisoner's crew cut.</p> <p>"You too, brother." Kenneth was older and leaner. Hollow-eyed. Tired. He looked like an IT guy, because that's what he was — at least, before all that shit went down in California. "Have any trouble on the way?"</p> <p>"Not really. Cops don't know where to start looking. You got rid of the baggage?"</p> <p>"Yeah, but it was messy. I lost most of my files when I ditched the car. On the bright side…" Ken patted the stolen pistol on his belt. "Never unarmed."</p> <p>"Oh, you won't need that." Jordan snapped his fingers and sent off sparks, as though he were striking flint. Pyromancy. His weapon of choice.</p> <p>"I'm gonna keep it. At least until we can get to a computer. Then I'll whip up some brainhacks, and we'll go on the… uh…" His voice trailed off. "What is that?"</p> <p><em>Beep-beep!</em> There was a tiny vehicle trundling up the pass: a sporty yellow van with chunky tires. It rounded the nearest bend, slowed to a halt, and expelled one scruffy-haired passenger, who promptly vomited into the ditch.</p> <p>Kenneth squinted. "Is that… Masterson?"</p> <p>The pear-shaped newcomer wiped their face and waved. "Hey, Ken."</p> <p>"How did you find us?"</p> <p>"Oh, I hitched a lift with these guys." They gestured at the driver, a heavyset man wearing a trucker hat and an ugly tan. He waved back with a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Banjo's cool. So long as I don't puke in his ride. Is <a href="/scp-285">Hax</a> still with you? I wanted to-"</p> <p>"Who is this, bro?" Jordan started circling around, flanking the stranger on their right side. Fire crawled up and down his arms.</p> <p>"That's Wren Masterson. 'steakshift'. They introduced me to the stoners."</p> <p>"Another pacifist?"</p> <p>"Anarchist. They do stuff with, like, film and audio. They helped design a couple of payloads last year."</p> <p>"Oh yeah? You get tired of running with those pussies and decide to join the fight?"</p> <p>Masterson winced. "No and no. I came here to talk."</p> <p>Jordan scoffed. "Figures."</p> <p>"Did Jude send you?"</p> <p>"Nah, man, didn't you hear? <a href="/the-assassination-of-beleaguered-normalcy-by-the-coward-game">Janitors raided his apartment</a>. Something to do with the election protests. Now everything's fucked."</p> <p>Ken laughed bitterly. "You know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like Jude 'got what he deserved'."</p> <p>"Oh, ha-ha-ha, I see. Because he said that about… yeah. Very cute." Wren lingered in the underbrush, unsure what to do with themselves. "Can I, uh, approach?"</p> <p>"Why? So you can show me a Polaroid? Play us a little tune?" Kenneth pulled out the pistol and racked the slide. "Empty your pockets."</p> <p>"Shit, dude, why do you have a gun? Is that a cop's gun? Jesus." Masterson dug around in their jeans, then their flannel shirt, then put both hands in the air. "I've got, uh… five bucks. Canadian. All yours."</p> <p>Jordan pointed at the van. "You! Turn the engine off and put your hands on the dash, or I'll fuckin' burn you!" He threw a gob of flame downhill to prove his point. A moment later, the vehicle fell silent, and the scene fell silent with it.</p> <p>"I vouched for you, man. Now you're UIU's Most Wanted. C'mon. Talk to me. What happened? Where is Hax?"</p> <p>"Hax is gone."</p> <p>"'Gone' as in-"</p> <p>"Scrambled. Ravens grabbed him outside Vegas."</p> <p>Wren took a slow, cautious step forward. "Okay. Well. Have you, uh, thought about what happens next?"</p> <p>"That's not your problem. Tell your buddies to fuck off. We're done."</p> <p>"Are you kidding? You guys killed like, sixty cops. They're going to be hunting you forever. For-ev-er."</p> <p>"Let 'em," Jordan said. "Send a thousand pigs. I'll put 'em in the ground."</p> <p>"Wow! Very brave. Very scary. Did you firebomb any nightclubs on your way here, champ?"</p> <p>"Don't talk to him like that."</p> <p>"Just saying, maybe there's some puppies you could kick-"</p> <p>"Don't you talk to my little brother like that!" Kenneth bellowed. The pistol shook in his hands.</p> <p>Jordan laughed. "Tell 'em!"</p> <p>"They had him in prison, Wren! Solitary confinement. That's <em>torture</em>. I had to do something! I asked for help and your friends chose to play with toys. Fucking. Toys. Well, I'm done playing."</p> <p>"You weaponized a human soul." Masterson didn't bother hiding their disgust.</p> <p>"We've always been at war. I just answered the call. People are gonna join us."</p> <p>"What, like the prisoners you busted out? The ones who walked away?"</p> <p>"Those guys were pussies!" Jordan jeered.</p> <p>"They walked because this 'reign of terror' shit, this is not smart, man. There's gonna be blowback."</p> <p>"The ends justify the means."</p> <p>"What 'ends'? Is there a plan? Is there a goal, besides covering for your little brother?"</p> <p>"You don't have family. You don't know what it's like. You have no idea what it's like to-"</p> <p>"Get left behind? Live on the street? Run from the law? Yeah, I do. I've seen what you've seen, and it's fucked up. The way things are built. The way things work. It makes you sick."</p> <p>"Damn right. The state has all the power, beating us down constantly, and we're supposed to just lie down and take it? It's-"</p> <p>"No, no, I mean <em>you</em>." Wren pointed at Jordan. "Wayfinding makes you sick. That's why you didn't just zip cross-country in one go. I can relate, actually — period cramps, car rides, pushing myself too hard, all guaranteed to make me puke."</p> <p>Jordan cocked his head to one side and chuckled. Boastful. "Are you sizing me up? Seriously, bitch? I'm with the <a href="/serpent-s-hand-hub">Serpent's Hand</a>. We'll obliterate you."</p> <p>"Actually… the Hand isn't thrilled with you, either."</p> <p>The yellow van rocked back and forth. Doors swung open. There was a high-pitched tearing noise, and suddenly, two more people were standing on the ridge: a short, broad man in a trucker cap and a tall, bald Indian woman wearing a pink jacket. Banjo and Skye. Hand assassins.</p> <p>Time slowed. Jordan's confidence turned to dismay. Ken's wariness turned to fear. Before they could react, Skye put her fingers to her temples, channeled energy through her Third Eye and released it as a dazzling flash. <em>Whoosh!</em> Their world turned white. Then, the sound of boots on gravel, a grunt of exertion — and Banjo dropkicked Jordan down the mountainside.</p> <p>For one long moment, it seemed like he might tumble the full eighty meters to the foot of the hill, blind and limp. Instead: a roar, a rush of flame, and Jordan rode out his descent on gusts of warm air.</p> <p>Masterson whistled. "Damn. Didn't know he could do that."</p> <p>"A fucking double-cross?" Jordan bellowed. "I gave it all for the cause, and this is the thanks I get?!"</p> <p>Skye stepped off the ridgeline and glided downhill, her boots barely skimming the bushes. "You know why we're here, Jordan. Working with the Madmen, killing civilians… it has to stop."</p> <p>Banjo looked from Wren to Kenneth and back again. He probably could have crushed the pistol with his bare hands, but instead, he took off down the road. He threw his cap into the van — exposing deep grooves in his skull — then tore off his shirt, revealing that his "ugly tan" was actually a thick orange hide. "You are reckless," the planewalker said. "Undisciplined. You cannot save the garden by burning it to cinders."</p> <p>"I'm fighting back! What gives you assholes the right to tell me how?!"</p> <p>"You're endangering our people. Bringing down too much heat."</p> <p>"I'll show you 'heat'!" Jordan conjured up two handfuls of flame, mashed them together and lobbed the fireball at Skye, who shot it out of the air. <em>Boom!</em> When the dust cleared… he had vanished.</p> <p>"No point hiding, little man." Skye spun in midair, glowering. "We're the only ones on the mountain today… and I can sense your aura."</p> <p>She conjured up a disc of bright light and sent it scything through the woods. Branches fell, foliage crashed and two toothy monstrosities boiled out: servitors knitted from living flesh. They charged at her and Skye zipped back, firing wide, dodging —</p> <p>Jordan leapt out of cover. He sprinted directly at Banjo, who beat his chest and stood his ground. "Come on, then! Fight a warrior!"</p> <p>They collided with an audible <em>crunch</em> — grappled — broke away and slammed together again. Striking, blocking, scattering debris. Jordan fought with his heart, but Banjo tempered all his passion with discipline. Skye whirled around them, implacable, picking Jordan's monsters apart piece by piece.</p> <p>Kenneth looked down at the chaos, dismayed. "What the hell is this?"</p> <p>"Some Toriyama shit. Listen to me, Ken." Masterson took another step forward, moving their right hand behind their back. "Your brother's going to keep killing. Not because of the cause. He's gonna keep killing because he likes it."</p> <p>"You don't know that."</p> <p>"I know that if you stay here, they're gonna come for us. Everyone in the chat. They're gonna start grabbing us off the street. Are you really okay with that?"</p> <p>"Fuck you and your stoner buddies! You had your chance!"</p> <p>"There are other planes. Other places you could go. You could fight forever and no one would get hurt."</p> <p>He shook his head. "My fight is here."</p> <p>"Then you're going to lose. See?" When Ken looked west, Masterson lowered their right arm and let the knife drop down their sleeve, into their palm. Almost time.</p> <p><em>Fwish! Fwoosh!</em> With both monsters dead, Skye finally touched down and started throwing quick, controlled jabs. Cold. Surgical. Banjo and Jordan were equally matched, but having a third combatant in the mix changed things. His breathing turned ragged. Flames licked at Jordan's teeth, like a car engine backfiring.</p> <p>The woman smirked. Her jacket fluttered in the breeze. "Having trouble keeping up?"</p> <p>"Suck my dick!"</p> <p>She fired off a shot, but Jordan wasn't there anymore. He had ducked through a narrow seam in reality and re-emerged behind them, on the fighters' flank. He blasted Skye down the road, whipped around and slugged Banjo in the belly. The guy choked. Dropped. A warrior, humbled.</p> <p>Jordan swayed… bit back waves of nausea, from teleport sickness… then collected himself. A moment of calm in the storm. "Bring it on, you fuckin' snakes!"</p> <p>Skye flung her ruined jacket into the dirt, stamped out the flames and started making quick, complicated hand motions. Kinetoglyphs. Jordan tried to interrupt, but Banjo flung himself into the fire to defend his wounded pride. Sequence complete, Skye split into three blurry copies of herself and rejoined the melee.</p> <p>This time: no compromise. No hesitation! Each flurry of punches hit harder than the last. Faster than the eye could follow. If not for the wind whistling around their strikes, the mountainside would be on fire. All of them were shouting — bleeding — murder in their eyes —</p> <p>"They're killing him," Kenneth whispered.</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>"Call them off!"</p> <p>"Can't. Not in charge."</p> <p>He closed the distance in three short steps and pushed the gun into Masterson's face. "Call them off or I'll kill you!"</p> <p>"Wish you would."</p> <p>Ken blinked. In that moment of confusion, Wren grabbed his wrist, forced the gun aside, and drove the knife into his chest. He screamed — shuddered — squeezed off a shot —</p> <p>"No! Kenneth!"</p> <p>— and fell to the ground, heaving. The pistol slipped out of his hand.</p> <p><em>"NO!"</em> Jordan's scream shook the branches. Cracked the earth. The fire in his heart spilled out and he started glowing from within. Overheating.</p> <p>A half-dozen fleshy demons peeled themselves off his body, flung themselves at Banjo and started exploding, <em>pop-pop-pop</em>. Firecrackers made of meat. In those bright lights, only one Skye cast a shadow, so Jordan hit her once, twice, and the doppelgangers fizzled out. He burned a hole in the world and stepped to the top of the ridge, screaming, "Kill you, kill you killed my brother-"</p> <p>"Sour milk," Wren blurted. "Pork. Rotten eggs."</p> <p>Jordan paused. Gagged. Bile in his throat. Teleport sickness took charge, and he vomited directly into Masterson's face. <em>Splat!</em></p> <p>They stared at each other. For a moment, both of them were completely vulnerable.</p> <p>Jordan hissed, "Die."</p> <p>That should've been it. Instead, there was the sound of distant thunder, another high-pitched tearing noise, and an elbow strike sent Jordan reeling. One last combatant had arrived on the field: a big, bright-eyed man with long blonde hair. He was wearing board shorts, sandals, and a very nice bowling shirt with "Clark" embroidered on his breast.</p> <p>"Hey guys! Sorry I'm late!" He waved back at Banjo and Skye, who were picking themselves out of the dirt, then spun around and locked eyes with his opponent. When he spoke, Clark's voice was hard as steel. "You hurt my friends."</p> <p>Jordan took a wild swipe. Missed. On the second swing, Clark grabbed his arm, spun around and launched him through a thick fir tree. <em>Thoom!</em> The whole thing collapsed in a shower of needles.</p> <p>When he finally stood up, Jordan was in bad shape. His tattoos were torn to ribbons. Pain was his whole world. With nothing left, he screamed, put his hands together and piled on the heat. Clark matched the attack with a crackling energy beam. Two bright waves collided, beat against each other… and inevitably, one side broke. A merciless tide washed over Jordan's body. His howl trailed away to nothing.</p> <p>For a moment, electricity arced between Clark's fingers. His hair started to stand up… then settled back down. Static dissipated. The fight was over. "Huh," he said. "Wasn't this guy supposed to be tough?"</p> <p>Banjo cleared his throat. "He seemed pretty tough to me, comrade."</p> <p>"You missed the worst of it." Skye glanced down at Wren, wrinkled her nose, and tossed them a handkerchief.</p> <p>"But I didn't even have to power up!"</p> <p>"Yeah. Well. He pushed himself too hard, too fast." Masterson toweled themselves off, then offered the handkerchief back to Skye, who ignored them completely. "I can relate, actually. That's why it worked."</p> <p>The musclebound titan looked at Wren for the first time. "You're… one of the Merrymakers, right? JJ's friend."</p> <p>"Yeah, that's me. The distraction."</p> <p>"Are you hiding your aura?"</p> <p>All the color drained out of Masterson's face. "I, uh… maybe?"</p> <p>Clark beamed. "That's pretty cool! We should try sparring sometime!"</p> <p>"Oh. Ha! Oh god. No, no. No thanks. I'm not really-"</p> <p>"Wren." Kenneth's voice was little more than a whisper. It still hit them like a truck. "Wren. My brother. Is he…"</p> <p>"Yes. Sorry." Masterson knelt down beside him. They didn't touch the knife. The deed was done. "You didn't leave us any choice."</p> <p>"You don't… don't understand." Ken reached out with one limp hand and pawed at the air. "He's family."</p> <p>"That's just it. I do understand." They took his hand, squeezed it tight, and looked out at the mountains. "Sometimes… you've got to do real shitty things to protect the ones you love."</p> <p>Kenneth did not reply.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/somewhere-empty">Somewhere Empty</a>" by Tsercele, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/somewhere-empty">https://scpwiki.com/somewhere-empty</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= With SCP-285 in containment and GAW in disarray, Wren Masterson hitches a ride into Utah to settle the score with two anomalous terrorists. ]] ===== [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[collapsible show="Content Warnings" hide="This is to go... EVEN FURTHER BEYOND!"]] This is a story about crossing lines, fulfilling debts with your chosen family, and high-energy shonen violence. It also involves a knife attack and a surprising amount of vomit. [[/collapsible]] ------ Ken and Jordan found each other west of Salt Lake City, on an unpaved road snaking through the mountains. The siblings had camped out there twice before when they were younger, so it was easy enough to find the place again. It just took time. Precious days, traveling over back roads and rough terrain, until they were finally reunited: brothers in arms. "Fuckin' A, man. It's good to see you." Jordan was younger and bigger, powerfully built, with tattoos that spelled out a world of contempt for authority. His thick brown hair was growing back out, but it was still a prisoner's crew cut. "You too, brother." Kenneth was older and leaner. Hollow-eyed. Tired. He looked like an IT guy, because that's what he was -- at least, before all that shit went down in California. "Have any trouble on the way?" "Not really. Cops don't know where to start looking. You got rid of the baggage?" "Yeah, but it was messy. I lost most of my files when I ditched the car. On the bright side..." Ken patted the stolen pistol on his belt. "Never unarmed." "Oh, you won't need that." Jordan snapped his fingers and sent off sparks, as though he were striking flint. Pyromancy. His weapon of choice. "I'm gonna keep it. At least until we can get to a computer. Then I'll whip up some brainhacks, and we'll go on the... uh..." His voice trailed off. "What is that?" //Beep-beep!// There was a tiny vehicle trundling up the pass: a sporty yellow van with chunky tires. It rounded the nearest bend, slowed to a halt, and expelled one scruffy-haired passenger, who promptly vomited into the ditch. Kenneth squinted. "Is that... Masterson?" The pear-shaped newcomer wiped their face and waved. "Hey, Ken." "How did you find us?" "Oh, I hitched a lift with these guys." They gestured at the driver, a heavyset man wearing a trucker hat and an ugly tan. He waved back with a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Banjo's cool. So long as I don't puke in his ride. Is [[[scp-285\|Hax]]] still with you? I wanted to-" "Who is this, bro?" Jordan started circling around, flanking the stranger on their right side. Fire crawled up and down his arms. "That's Wren Masterson. 'steakshift'. They introduced me to the stoners." "Another pacifist?" "Anarchist. They do stuff with, like, film and audio. They helped design a couple of payloads last year." "Oh yeah? You get tired of running with those pussies and decide to join the fight?" Masterson winced. "No and no. I came here to talk." Jordan scoffed. "Figures." "Did Jude send you?" "Nah, man, didn't you hear? [[[the-assassination-of-beleaguered-normalcy-by-the-coward-game\|Janitors raided his apartment]]]. Something to do with the election protests. Now everything's fucked." Ken laughed bitterly. "You know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like Jude 'got what he deserved'." "Oh, ha-ha-ha, I see. Because he said that about... yeah. Very cute." Wren lingered in the underbrush, unsure what to do with themselves. "Can I, uh, approach?" "Why? So you can show me a Polaroid? Play us a little tune?" Kenneth pulled out the pistol and racked the slide. "Empty your pockets." "Shit, dude, why do you have a gun? Is that a cop's gun? Jesus." Masterson dug around in their jeans, then their flannel shirt, then put both hands in the air. "I've got, uh... five bucks. Canadian. All yours." Jordan pointed at the van. "You! Turn the engine off and put your hands on the dash, or I'll fuckin' burn you!" He threw a gob of flame downhill to prove his point. A moment later, the vehicle fell silent, and the scene fell silent with it. "I vouched for you, man. Now you're UIU's Most Wanted. C'mon. Talk to me. What happened? Where is Hax?" "Hax is gone." "'Gone' as in-" "Scrambled. Ravens grabbed him outside Vegas." Wren took a slow, cautious step forward. "Okay. Well. Have you, uh, thought about what happens next?" "That's not your problem. Tell your buddies to fuck off. We're done." "Are you kidding? You guys killed like, sixty cops. They're going to be hunting you forever. For-ev-er." "Let 'em," Jordan said. "Send a thousand pigs. I'll put 'em in the ground." "Wow! Very brave. Very scary. Did you firebomb any nightclubs on your way here, champ?" "Don't talk to him like that." "Just saying, maybe there's some puppies you could kick-" "Don't you talk to my little brother like that!" Kenneth bellowed. The pistol shook in his hands. Jordan laughed. "Tell 'em!" "They had him in prison, Wren! Solitary confinement. That's //torture//. I had to do something! I asked for help and your friends chose to play with toys. Fucking. Toys. Well, I'm done playing." "You weaponized a human soul." Masterson didn't bother hiding their disgust. "We've always been at war. I just answered the call. People are gonna join us." "What, like the prisoners you busted out? The ones who walked away?" "Those guys were pussies!" Jordan jeered. "They walked because this 'reign of terror' shit, this is not smart, man. There's gonna be blowback." "The ends justify the means." "What 'ends'? Is there a plan? Is there a goal, besides covering for your little brother?" "You don't have family. You don't know what it's like. You have no idea what it's like to-" "Get left behind? Live on the street? Run from the law? Yeah, I do. I've seen what you've seen, and it's fucked up. The way things are built. The way things work. It makes you sick." "Damn right. The state has all the power, beating us down constantly, and we're supposed to just lie down and take it? It's-" "No, no, I mean //you//." Wren pointed at Jordan. "Wayfinding makes you sick. That's why you didn't just zip cross-country in one go. I can relate, actually -- period cramps, car rides, pushing myself too hard, all guaranteed to make me puke." Jordan cocked his head to one side and chuckled. Boastful. "Are you sizing me up? Seriously, bitch? I'm with the [[[serpent-s-hand-hub\|Serpent's Hand]]]. We'll obliterate you." "Actually... the Hand isn't thrilled with you, either." The yellow van rocked back and forth. Doors swung open. There was a high-pitched tearing noise, and suddenly, two more people were standing on the ridge: a short, broad man in a trucker cap and a tall, bald Indian woman wearing a pink jacket. Banjo and Skye. Hand assassins. Time slowed. Jordan's confidence turned to dismay. Ken's wariness turned to fear. Before they could react, Skye put her fingers to her temples, channeled energy through her Third Eye and released it as a dazzling flash. //Whoosh!// Their world turned white. Then, the sound of boots on gravel, a grunt of exertion -- and Banjo dropkicked Jordan down the mountainside. For one long moment, it seemed like he might tumble the full eighty meters to the foot of the hill, blind and limp. Instead: a roar, a rush of flame, and Jordan rode out his descent on gusts of warm air. Masterson whistled. "Damn. Didn't know he could do that." "A fucking double-cross?" Jordan bellowed. "I gave it all for the cause, and this is the thanks I get?!" Skye stepped off the ridgeline and glided downhill, her boots barely skimming the bushes. "You know why we're here, Jordan. Working with the Madmen, killing civilians... it has to stop." Banjo looked from Wren to Kenneth and back again. He probably could have crushed the pistol with his bare hands, but instead, he took off down the road. He threw his cap into the van -- exposing deep grooves in his skull -- then tore off his shirt, revealing that his "ugly tan" was actually a thick orange hide. "You are reckless," the planewalker said. "Undisciplined. You cannot save the garden by burning it to cinders." "I'm fighting back! What gives you assholes the right to tell me how?!" "You're endangering our people. Bringing down too much heat." "I'll show you 'heat'!" Jordan conjured up two handfuls of flame, mashed them together and lobbed the fireball at Skye, who shot it out of the air. //Boom!// When the dust cleared... he had vanished. "No point hiding, little man." Skye spun in midair, glowering. "We're the only ones on the mountain today... and I can sense your aura." She conjured up a disc of bright light and sent it scything through the woods. Branches fell, foliage crashed and two toothy monstrosities boiled out: servitors knitted from living flesh. They charged at her and Skye zipped back, firing wide, dodging -- Jordan leapt out of cover. He sprinted directly at Banjo, who beat his chest and stood his ground. "Come on, then! Fight a warrior!" They collided with an audible //crunch// -- grappled -- broke away and slammed together again. Striking, blocking, scattering debris. Jordan fought with his heart, but Banjo tempered all his passion with discipline. Skye whirled around them, implacable, picking Jordan's monsters apart piece by piece. Kenneth looked down at the chaos, dismayed. "What the hell is this?" "Some Toriyama shit. Listen to me, Ken." Masterson took another step forward, moving their right hand behind their back. "Your brother's going to keep killing. Not because of the cause. He's gonna keep killing because he likes it." "You don't know that." "I know that if you stay here, they're gonna come for us. Everyone in the chat. They're gonna start grabbing us off the street. Are you really okay with that?" "Fuck you and your stoner buddies! You had your chance!" "There are other planes. Other places you could go. You could fight forever and no one would get hurt." He shook his head. "My fight is here." "Then you're going to lose. See?" When Ken looked west, Masterson lowered their right arm and let the knife drop down their sleeve, into their palm. Almost time. //Fwish! Fwoosh!// With both monsters dead, Skye finally touched down and started throwing quick, controlled jabs. Cold. Surgical. Banjo and Jordan were equally matched, but having a third combatant in the mix changed things. His breathing turned ragged. Flames licked at Jordan's teeth, like a car engine backfiring. The woman smirked. Her jacket fluttered in the breeze. "Having trouble keeping up?" "Suck my dick!" She fired off a shot, but Jordan wasn't there anymore. He had ducked through a narrow seam in reality and re-emerged behind them, on the fighters' flank. He blasted Skye down the road, whipped around and slugged Banjo in the belly. The guy choked. Dropped. A warrior, humbled. Jordan swayed... bit back waves of nausea, from teleport sickness... then collected himself. A moment of calm in the storm. "Bring it on, you fuckin' snakes!" Skye flung her ruined jacket into the dirt, stamped out the flames and started making quick, complicated hand motions. Kinetoglyphs. Jordan tried to interrupt, but Banjo flung himself into the fire to defend his wounded pride. Sequence complete, Skye split into three blurry copies of herself and rejoined the melee. This time: no compromise. No hesitation! Each flurry of punches hit harder than the last. Faster than the eye could follow. If not for the wind whistling around their strikes, the mountainside would be on fire. All of them were shouting -- bleeding -- murder in their eyes -- "They're killing him," Kenneth whispered. "Yeah." "Call them off!" "Can't. Not in charge." He closed the distance in three short steps and pushed the gun into Masterson's face. "Call them off or I'll kill you!" "Wish you would." Ken blinked. In that moment of confusion, Wren grabbed his wrist, forced the gun aside, and drove the knife into his chest. He screamed -- shuddered -- squeezed off a shot -- "No! Kenneth!" -- and fell to the ground, heaving. The pistol slipped out of his hand. //"NO!"// Jordan's scream shook the branches. Cracked the earth. The fire in his heart spilled out and he started glowing from within. Overheating. A half-dozen fleshy demons peeled themselves off his body, flung themselves at Banjo and started exploding, //pop-pop-pop//. Firecrackers made of meat. In those bright lights, only one Skye cast a shadow, so Jordan hit her once, twice, and the doppelgangers fizzled out. He burned a hole in the world and stepped to the top of the ridge, screaming, "Kill you, kill you killed my brother-" "Sour milk," Wren blurted. "Pork. Rotten eggs." Jordan paused. Gagged. Bile in his throat. Teleport sickness took charge, and he vomited directly into Masterson's face. //Splat!// They stared at each other. For a moment, both of them were completely vulnerable. Jordan hissed, "Die." That should've been it. Instead, there was the sound of distant thunder, another high-pitched tearing noise, and an elbow strike sent Jordan reeling. One last combatant had arrived on the field: a big, bright-eyed man with long blonde hair. He was wearing board shorts, sandals, and a very nice bowling shirt with "Clark" embroidered on his breast. "Hey guys! Sorry I'm late!" He waved back at Banjo and Skye, who were picking themselves out of the dirt, then spun around and locked eyes with his opponent. When he spoke, Clark's voice was hard as steel. "You hurt my friends." Jordan took a wild swipe. Missed. On the second swing, Clark grabbed his arm, spun around and launched him through a thick fir tree. //Thoom!// The whole thing collapsed in a shower of needles. When he finally stood up, Jordan was in bad shape. His tattoos were torn to ribbons. Pain was his whole world. With nothing left, he screamed, put his hands together and piled on the heat. Clark matched the attack with a crackling energy beam. Two bright waves collided, beat against each other... and inevitably, one side broke. A merciless tide washed over Jordan's body. His howl trailed away to nothing. For a moment, electricity arced between Clark's fingers. His hair started to stand up... then settled back down. Static dissipated. The fight was over. "Huh," he said. "Wasn't this guy supposed to be tough?" Banjo cleared his throat. "He seemed pretty tough to me, comrade." "You missed the worst of it." Skye glanced down at Wren, wrinkled her nose, and tossed them a handkerchief. "But I didn't even have to power up!" "Yeah. Well. He pushed himself too hard, too fast." Masterson toweled themselves off, then offered the handkerchief back to Skye, who ignored them completely. "I can relate, actually. That's why it worked." The musclebound titan looked at Wren for the first time. "You're... one of the Merrymakers, right? JJ's friend." "Yeah, that's me. The distraction." "Are you hiding your aura?" All the color drained out of Masterson's face. "I, uh... maybe?" Clark beamed. "That's pretty cool! We should try sparring sometime!" "Oh. Ha! Oh god. No, no. No thanks. I'm not really-" "Wren." Kenneth's voice was little more than a whisper. It still hit them like a truck. "Wren. My brother. Is he..." "Yes. Sorry." Masterson knelt down beside him. They didn't touch the knife. The deed was done. "You didn't leave us any choice." "You don't... don't understand." Ken reached out with one limp hand and pawed at the air. "He's family." "That's just it. I do understand." They took his hand, squeezed it tight, and looked out at the mountains. "Sometimes... you've got to do real shitty things to protect the ones you love." Kenneth did not reply. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Tsercele]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-29T00:05:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "black-comedy", "comedy", "crime-fiction", "eternal-mxtape", "gamers-against-weed", "serpents-hand", "tale" ]	Somewhere Empty - SCP Foundation	26	[ "scp-285", "the-assassination-of-beleaguered-normalcy-by-the-coward-game", "serpent-s-hand-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-eternal-mxtape", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "serpent-s-hand-hub", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1447959871	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/somewhere-empty
soulless	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Trevor pushed open a sliding door and entered the darkened room, looking around. A grey-haired man sitting at a conference table snapped his fingers impatiently and gestured for Trevor to join him. Trevor felt his heart rate increase as he inched closer to the table; he noticed a row of neatly arranged document folders. <em>What's got him so worked up? Is it his cancer? I hate this feeling so much. I hate waiting.</em></p> <p>"Mr. Castle?" Trevor said.</p> <p>"Trevor, sit. I am not happy." The man said.</p> <p>Despite the growing sense of dread, Trevor chose not to ask any questions. He figured that nothing was more frightening than Castle's rage. He briefly glanced into his boss's eyes, but he instantly diverted his gaze. <em>What is it about those narrow, calculating eyes? Those cold eyes.</em></p> <p>The door behind Trevor creaked open again, making him turn around in curiosity. Two men stepped into the room and joined him at the table. One man wore a balaclava that obscured his entire face except for his eyes, which were green. The other man, who was quite tall and thin, wore a metallic mask that had glowing, orange lenses.</p> <p>"Boss, what's up?" The green-eyed man said.</p> <p>"Trevor, these two will work with you for your next assignment: guests from our cartel associates. The tall one is Emil. The other one: Alex. Simple enough, no?" Castle said.</p> <p>"Yes, Mr. Castle." Trevor said.</p> <p>"If a single word leaves this room, I presume that I don't have to explain what would happen to all of you. This is strictly confidential, understood? "</p> <p>"Understood, Mr. Castle." Trevor said.</p> <p>"Got it, big man." Alex said.</p> <p>Emil simply nodded.</p> <p>Castle sighed in frustration then flipped open the first folder. The folder contained a set of photographs and documents; the majority of the documents were heavily redacted with black lines. Leaning in closer, Trevor scrutinized the photos. A giant blood splatter against a wall; a collection of limbs gathered near a dumpster; a skull with its jaw hanging off. The images didn't phase Trevor, so he wondered why his boss was so worked up. <em>Nothing new here.</em></p> <p>Castle pressed his hand against another folder then slid it across the table to the others. Trevor noticed that the file was labeled "September 7."</p> <p>"Open it." Castle slammed his hand against the desk. "This material was taken from local police. It was supposed to be a routine transfer, and the nearest patrol was chasing a car thief 2 miles away. So why the hell were my assets turned into Halloween decorations? No one survived despite the fact that I had a squad of my finest guards there."</p> <p>The room fell silent. Trevor looked around, expecting someone else to respond. <em>Perhaps it was a rhetorical question?</em></p> <p>Alex held a photo with both hands and turned it sideways, intrigued by the carnage. "Maybe… it was the work of a rat? An insider job, chief. It looks like a wild animal could've done this, too."</p> <p>"That wasn't a question that I needed answered by the likes of you, you idiot. Your job is to listen and shoot." Castle scoffed. "The best investigators available are handling the question of who was behind it and why. You three will track down the culprit and make them regret their birth. I encourage you to make the most of your creativity. Remember: always make it slow, and make it symbolic. Those are the two guidelines for your job. If I can't guarantee the security of my transactions, that would be catastrophic for business. And more importantly, our partners will lose confidence. I cannot allow that to happen, so this job is more so deterrence than punishment.”</p> <p>"What's the first step, boss?" Alex said.</p> <p>"If you'd allow me to finish…" Castle produced a folded map from his jacket and showed it to the others. "There's a graveyard near the intersection between Carpenter street and South 5th Avenue. Arrive there around 3:00 am and walk along the route marked on the map. Then, look for someone walking alone who will drop two quarters as you pass by."</p> <p>Castle stood up and snapped his fingers, and his minions exited the room together.</p> <hr/> <p>Red flipped open his burner phone and quickly dialed a number, leaning toward his window. As he awaited the caller on the other end, he checked his rear view mirror, side mirrors, then visually scanned the area around him. <em>Good. They're alone.</em></p> <p>A disguised voice began to speak.</p> <p>“Agent Red, status?” The voice said.</p> <p>“Three potential PoIs spotted, heading southbound. They appear to be males in their late 20s to early 30s of varying build and height—light-skinned and of indeterminate phenotype. All sporting dark hoodies and running pants. Possibly armed and dangerous, but they seem unaware of my presence.” Red said.</p> <p>“They might just be prowlers—typical street thugs. Have you detected the anomaly yet?”</p> <p>“Negative.”</p> <p>“Initiate the active phase of investigation. If you detect the anomaly, record as much evidence as possible before withdrawing; maintain a distance of at least 50 meters at all times. Do not take unnecessary risks, as this is a low-priority object.”</p> <p>“Noted. Will there by any backup?”</p> <p>“You're alone, Agent. No forces are currently on stand-by at your location. Be careful.”</p> <p>“Of course. Just another walk in the park, right?”</p> <p>The call ended, and Red surreptitiously pushed the car door open and stepped outside. He double-checked his utility belt, inspecting his holstered Glock 19 and radio. Once the group turned the corner around a liquor store, Red began to slowly pursue them.</p> <hr/> <p>“You think the big boss is trying to get rid of us? It kind of hurts that he'd send us on this wild goose chase. What did I do wrong, huh?” Alex said.</p> <p>“Shut up. Let's just keep following the route since we're halfway to the end. Keep your eyes peeled for our liaison.” Trevor said.</p> <p>Emil stopped in his tracks then turned around, seeing nothing. His glowing lenses focused as he surveyed the area. In rapid succession, his visual system switched between night vision, thermal, and ultraviolet modes before he continued walking.</p> <p>“What was that?” Trevor said.</p> <p>“Being followed. Highly probable.” Emil said.</p> <p>“Let me show you how it's done.” Alex said. “Oops, I dropped my wallet. Looks like I have to check behind.” Alex pulled out his wallet and threw it onto the floor, then walked past it. He made an exaggerated expression, then turned around to retrieve his wallet, discreetly looking down the street in that moment.</p> <p>“Stop being a clown, Alex. If anyone's following us, they'll know for sure that we're onto them thanks to you.”</p> <p>“Anyways, they'll need a lot more than a single goon.”</p> <p>“For all we know, it's just the wind. Or Mr. Castle keeping tabs on us.”</p> <p>Emil shook his head disapprovingly. He reached down for his handgun and pulled back the slide to ensure that a round was chambered.</p> <p>Trevor continued walking along the route, passing a myriad of abandoned establishments and apartment complexes, along with the occasional shelter. He kept a keen eye on anyone of interest, but to his frustration, he only encountered vagrants begging for money or masked strangers trying to peddle narcotics.</p> <p><em>What's the point of this? Is this really just a mission to nowhere? What if Castle put a hit on me? Did I say something wrong? Did he know…?</em> Trevor's mind raced as he evaluated the possibilities of his situation.</p> <hr/> <p>As one of the men turned around, Red ducked behind a bus stop, hoping that he wasn't spotted. He continued to follow the trio from the opposite side of the road, using other pedestrians and street objects as visual cover.</p> <p>His phone buzzed, so he opened it to check his notifications. He received a single message:</p> <p>POTENTIAL PoIS HEADING TOWARD LOCATION OF ANOMALY. NEARBY SURVEILLANCE DRONE CONFIRMED UNUSUAL ACTIVITY. GROUP OF INTEREST LIKELY INVOLVED. STAY SHARP. SECOND FIELD AGENT DISPATCHED.</p> <p><em>The plot thickens. Guess I might have to leave early.</em></p> <p>As the group passed by a night club, Red saw one of the men retrieve change from the sidewalk and hand it to a security guard, who wagged his finger. The masked man was seemingly reprimanded by his associates.</p> <p>A few moments later, the incident repeated itself. Red rubbed his eyes to ensure that what he was seeing was real. As the trio walked toward a convenience store, a young woman dropped two shiny coins in front of them. To Red, it seemed that she was counting money. However, the woman joined the group after several words were exchanged. The woman glanced in Red's direction briefly, but she didn't seem to spot him, causing Red to breathe a sigh of relief. As Red drew nearer, the group took a sudden turn into a gas station.</p> <hr/> <p>“What do you mean that you can't tell us? Can't or won't?” Trevor said.</p> <p>“I <em>can't.</em> Castle must have utilized some sort of hypnotic effect to prevent me from uttering those words.” The woman said. She had introduced herself as Amy moments ago.</p> <p>“But the point is that what we were told doesn't match your story, whatever it is. So I have a bad feeling about this.” Alex said.</p> <p>"We all do." Amy said. “By the way, about that… guy.”</p> <p>“Yeah, we got him. Just a little detour, then we'll head toward the fireworks. Like a moth to a flame.” Alex said.</p> <p>"What…?" Amy said.</p> <p>A bell rang as an individual in a trench coat pushed open the door, entering the cramped store. He zipped through the metal detector and immediately turned down one of the aisles. Trevor looked at Emil, who nodded.</p> <p>Trevor took a turn and entered the aisle parallel to the stranger, and Emil circled around from the opposite direction. The newcomer froze when he realized that he was surrounded, but he tried to appear unbothered.</p> <p>As the stranger slowly brought his hand down toward his belt, Emil pulled out his firearm and aimed it directly at the man's head. <em>I barely even saw Emil move. That must've been a tenth of a second.</em></p> <p>Trevor, Amy, and Alex also drew identical Beretta pistols, aiming at the man, who backed up against a refrigerator.</p> <p>“I know why you're here… just listen.” The man said.</p> <p>As the man reached for his wallet, the group of four unloaded their weapons on him. Emil shot the man through the head with several precise shots, while the others riddled him with bullets, striking his torso, legs, and arms. The refrigerator's glass door shattered and liquids sprayed everywhere from the stray bullets. A pool of blood quickly spread out from the body and crept down the trashed aisle.</p> <p>Amy approached the corpse then searched it, finding his wallet and other equipment; Alex found the man's gun—a Magnum revolver—which he greedily pocketed. With a confused expression, Amy examined the man's ID.</p> <p>“What's wrong?” Trevor said.</p> <p>“I don't recognize this badge. And his 'ID card' is just a blank piece of paper with gibberish. How strange.” Amy said. “At least he's not a Fed, though. So, that's one less thing to worry about.”</p> <p>Trevor headed toward the exit and slammed several stacks of cash onto the counter. The cashier, who was trembling uncontrollably and on the verge of tears, reluctantly accepted the money.</p> <p>“Our guys will perform any clean-up duties. Just tell the cops that you didn't see what happened, and couldn't make out any faces, alright?” Trevor leaned in and narrowed his eyes. “Go home and see your family. Don't forget who we work for.”</p> <p>“Y-yes, sir.” The cashier said.</p> <p><em>Poor kid. But, I didn't have a choice. It's better to be cautious, anyways.</em></p> <hr/> <p>"I can't say that I'm surprised. This is the perfect place to do something that you wouldn't want your parents to know about." Amy said.</p> <p>“This is it? Just some stupid old alleyways. And all these apartments are collecting dust.” Alex remarked.</p> <p>“Stop complaining. Look around: why are there so many cars?” Trevor said.</p> <p>“I don't know. But that guy we killed got a text 10 minutes ago. Apparently, he was supposed to bail out, and the situation became 'urgent.' I guess that happens when bullets start flying, eh?”</p> <p>“It might be due to another reason.” Amy suggested. “Well, it was nice knowing you all…”</p> <p>“Three sedans. Two SUVs. Two armored vans. Dubious.” Emil said.</p> <p>A black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the group, and several gunmen dismounted who had weapons slung over their shoulders. Two men carried MP5 submachine guns, while the third guard had a tactical shotgun with a drum magazine. They also wore ballistic helmets with night vision goggles and were covered in thick body armor.</p> <p>“Damn…” Alex said.</p> <p>“You're Castle's group, huh? Well, it's your lucky day. All of you are to investigate the alleyways until you catch the little fox who whacked our guys, but don't worry: we'll be waiting safely outside in case you need backup.” The guard said in a deep voice.</p> <p>“You can't just use drones?” Amy said.</p> <p>“They can easily be jammed or hacked, don't you know?”</p> <p>“Of course. I'm sure that our safety is the number one priority here…”</p> <p>Trevor shrugged, and his group entered the alleyway at gunpoint. <em>Damn it. There was so much that I wanted to do. I wanted to get away from it all. Damn it. Damn it.</em></p> <hr/> <p>After about 15 minutes of walking, Trevor was practically surrounded by darkness, as the derelict city block barely had electricity. He noticed that his flashlight dimmed with each passing moment, making him worried that it would die soon. The other flashlights also continued to dim gradually. However, worse than the light issue was the growing stench of something rotting.</p> <p>Turning to his left and right, Trevor noticed that everyone was slightly shaking except for Emil. Alex's eyes darted around nervously while Amy clutched her weapon way too tightly, but Emil showed no sign of worry. Only pure determination, composure, and focus. <em>I bet this bastard has a resting heart rate right now. That is, if he has a heart. Doesn't he know that we're probably going to die?</em></p> <p>A sharp squeak echoed through the alley, causing Alex to jump back. Directing his flashlight to the ground, Trevor caught sight of a rat scurrying behind some trash bags. <em>Chicken.</em> Above the pile of trash was an imprint in the brick wall in the shape of a person. The imprint, which was several centimeters deep, was full of congealed blood. As Trevor reeled from the putrid sight, he noticed the others turn their attention elsewhere.</p> <p>Everyone halted. Alex cursed under his breath, then laughed for a moment. Trevor looked at him in annoyance.</p> <p>Seemingly out of nowhere, a bronze statue of a bull rolled toward Trevor—a brazen bull. The statue had two primitive axles and made a squeaky sound as it moved along. Without notice, a pillar of steam shot out from the bull's nostrils, creating a horrible sound, which was a mixture of agonizing screams and a low-pitched bellow.</p> <p>“That sounds like some twisted brass instrument.” Trevor said.</p> <p>“An instrument from the depths of hell, perhaps.” Amy added.</p> <p>“Someone inside. Still burning.” Emil said.</p> <p>There was a crash as a nearby dumpster overturned. All at once, the alleyway seemed to come to life as several mechanical abominations emerged from the shadows. The clattering and grinding of metal came from all directions. Trevor nearly fainted from the sight, hoping that this was just a horrible nightmare.</p> <p>A humanoid statue, whose chest cavity opened to reveal long, jagged spikes, made its way toward Trevor. It moved with great weight behind each step, yet it traveled deceptively fast. The entity's metallic face was contorted into a permanent expression of torment, but what stood out the most was its eyes. Its sunken eyes were piercing and inhuman, but conveyed no expression, just machine-like tenacity. <em>I've seen those eyes before, haven't I?</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/soulless">Soulless: Part 1</a>" by Tor4555, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/soulless">https://scpwiki.com/soulless</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Trevor pushed open a sliding door and entered the darkened room, looking around. A grey-haired man sitting at a conference table snapped his fingers impatiently and gestured for Trevor to join him. Trevor felt his heart rate increase as he inched closer to the table; he noticed a row of neatly arranged document folders. //What's got him so worked up? Is it his cancer? I hate this feeling so much. I hate waiting.// "Mr. Castle?" Trevor said. "Trevor, sit. I am not happy." The man said. Despite the growing sense of dread, Trevor chose not to ask any questions. He figured that nothing was more frightening than Castle's rage. He briefly glanced into his boss's eyes, but he instantly diverted his gaze. //What is it about those narrow, calculating eyes? Those cold eyes.// The door behind Trevor creaked open again, making him turn around in curiosity. Two men stepped into the room and joined him at the table. One man wore a balaclava that obscured his entire face except for his eyes, which were green. The other man, who was quite tall and thin, wore a metallic mask that had glowing, orange lenses. "Boss, what's up?" The green-eyed man said. "Trevor, these two will work with you for your next assignment: guests from our cartel associates. The tall one is Emil. The other one: Alex. Simple enough, no?" Castle said. "Yes, Mr. Castle." Trevor said. "If a single word leaves this room, I presume that I don't have to explain what would happen to all of you. This is strictly confidential, understood? " "Understood, Mr. Castle." Trevor said. "Got it, big man." Alex said. Emil simply nodded. Castle sighed in frustration then flipped open the first folder. The folder contained a set of photographs and documents; the majority of the documents were heavily redacted with black lines. Leaning in closer, Trevor scrutinized the photos. A giant blood splatter against a wall; a collection of limbs gathered near a dumpster; a skull with its jaw hanging off. The images didn't phase Trevor, so he wondered why his boss was so worked up. //Nothing new here.// Castle pressed his hand against another folder then slid it across the table to the others. Trevor noticed that the file was labeled "September 7." "Open it." Castle slammed his hand against the desk. "This material was taken from local police. It was supposed to be a routine transfer, and the nearest patrol was chasing a car thief 2 miles away. So why the hell were my assets turned into Halloween decorations? No one survived despite the fact that I had a squad of my finest guards there." The room fell silent. Trevor looked around, expecting someone else to respond. //Perhaps it was a rhetorical question?// Alex held a photo with both hands and turned it sideways, intrigued by the carnage. "Maybe... it was the work of a rat? An insider job, chief. It looks like a wild animal could've done this, too." "That wasn't a question that I needed answered by the likes of you, you idiot. Your job is to listen and shoot." Castle scoffed. "The best investigators available are handling the question of who was behind it and why. You three will track down the culprit and make them regret their birth. I encourage you to make the most of your creativity. Remember: always make it slow, and make it symbolic. Those are the two guidelines for your job. If I can't guarantee the security of my transactions, that would be catastrophic for business. And more importantly, our partners will lose confidence. I cannot allow that to happen, so this job is more so deterrence than punishment.” "What's the first step, boss?" Alex said. "If you'd allow me to finish..." Castle produced a folded map from his jacket and showed it to the others. "There's a graveyard near the intersection between Carpenter street and South 5th Avenue. Arrive there around 3:00 am and walk along the route marked on the map. Then, look for someone walking alone who will drop two quarters as you pass by." Castle stood up and snapped his fingers, and his minions exited the room together. ---- Red flipped open his burner phone and quickly dialed a number, leaning toward his window. As he awaited the caller on the other end, he checked his rear view mirror, side mirrors, then visually scanned the area around him. //Good. They're alone.// A disguised voice began to speak. “Agent Red, status?” The voice said. “Three potential PoIs spotted, heading southbound. They appear to be males in their late 20s to early 30s of varying build and height—light-skinned and of indeterminate phenotype. All sporting dark hoodies and running pants. Possibly armed and dangerous, but they seem unaware of my presence.” Red said. “They might just be prowlers—typical street thugs. Have you detected the anomaly yet?” “Negative.” “Initiate the active phase of investigation. If you detect the anomaly, record as much evidence as possible before withdrawing; maintain a distance of at least 50 meters at all times. Do not take unnecessary risks, as this is a low-priority object.” “Noted. Will there by any backup?” “You're alone, Agent. No forces are currently on stand-by at your location. Be careful.” “Of course. Just another walk in the park, right?” The call ended, and Red surreptitiously pushed the car door open and stepped outside. He double-checked his utility belt, inspecting his holstered Glock 19 and radio. Once the group turned the corner around a liquor store, Red began to slowly pursue them. ---- “You think the big boss is trying to get rid of us? It kind of hurts that he'd send us on this wild goose chase. What did I do wrong, huh?” Alex said. “Shut up. Let's just keep following the route since we're halfway to the end. Keep your eyes peeled for our liaison.” Trevor said. Emil stopped in his tracks then turned around, seeing nothing. His glowing lenses focused as he surveyed the area. In rapid succession, his visual system switched between night vision, thermal, and ultraviolet modes before he continued walking. “What was that?” Trevor said. “Being followed. Highly probable.” Emil said. “Let me show you how it's done.” Alex said. “Oops, I dropped my wallet. Looks like I have to check behind.” Alex pulled out his wallet and threw it onto the floor, then walked past it. He made an exaggerated expression, then turned around to retrieve his wallet, discreetly looking down the street in that moment. “Stop being a clown, Alex. If anyone's following us, they'll know for sure that we're onto them thanks to you.” “Anyways, they'll need a lot more than a single goon.” “For all we know, it's just the wind. Or Mr. Castle keeping tabs on us.” Emil shook his head disapprovingly. He reached down for his handgun and pulled back the slide to ensure that a round was chambered. Trevor continued walking along the route, passing a myriad of abandoned establishments and apartment complexes, along with the occasional shelter. He kept a keen eye on anyone of interest, but to his frustration, he only encountered vagrants begging for money or masked strangers trying to peddle narcotics. //What's the point of this? Is this really just a mission to nowhere? What if Castle put a hit on me? Did I say something wrong? Did he know...?// Trevor's mind raced as he evaluated the possibilities of his situation. ---- As one of the men turned around, Red ducked behind a bus stop, hoping that he wasn't spotted. He continued to follow the trio from the opposite side of the road, using other pedestrians and street objects as visual cover. His phone buzzed, so he opened it to check his notifications. He received a single message: POTENTIAL PoIS HEADING TOWARD LOCATION OF ANOMALY. NEARBY SURVEILLANCE DRONE CONFIRMED UNUSUAL ACTIVITY. GROUP OF INTEREST LIKELY INVOLVED. STAY SHARP. SECOND FIELD AGENT DISPATCHED. //The plot thickens. Guess I might have to leave early.// As the group passed by a night club, Red saw one of the men retrieve change from the sidewalk and hand it to a security guard, who wagged his finger. The masked man was seemingly reprimanded by his associates. A few moments later, the incident repeated itself. Red rubbed his eyes to ensure that what he was seeing was real. As the trio walked toward a convenience store, a young woman dropped two shiny coins in front of them. To Red, it seemed that she was counting money. However, the woman joined the group after several words were exchanged. The woman glanced in Red's direction briefly, but she didn't seem to spot him, causing Red to breathe a sigh of relief. As Red drew nearer, the group took a sudden turn into a gas station. ---- “What do you mean that you can't tell us? Can't or won't?” Trevor said. “I //can't.// Castle must have utilized some sort of hypnotic effect to prevent me from uttering those words.” The woman said. She had introduced herself as Amy moments ago. “But the point is that what we were told doesn't match your story, whatever it is. So I have a bad feeling about this.” Alex said. "We all do." Amy said. “By the way, about that... guy.” “Yeah, we got him. Just a little detour, then we'll head toward the fireworks. Like a moth to a flame.” Alex said. "What...?" Amy said. A bell rang as an individual in a trench coat pushed open the door, entering the cramped store. He zipped through the metal detector and immediately turned down one of the aisles. Trevor looked at Emil, who nodded. Trevor took a turn and entered the aisle parallel to the stranger, and Emil circled around from the opposite direction. The newcomer froze when he realized that he was surrounded, but he tried to appear unbothered. As the stranger slowly brought his hand down toward his belt, Emil pulled out his firearm and aimed it directly at the man's head. //I barely even saw Emil move. That must've been a tenth of a second.// Trevor, Amy, and Alex also drew identical Beretta pistols, aiming at the man, who backed up against a refrigerator. “I know why you're here... just listen.” The man said. As the man reached for his wallet, the group of four unloaded their weapons on him. Emil shot the man through the head with several precise shots, while the others riddled him with bullets, striking his torso, legs, and arms. The refrigerator's glass door shattered and liquids sprayed everywhere from the stray bullets. A pool of blood quickly spread out from the body and crept down the trashed aisle. Amy approached the corpse then searched it, finding his wallet and other equipment; Alex found the man's gun—a Magnum revolver—which he greedily pocketed. With a confused expression, Amy examined the man's ID. “What's wrong?” Trevor said. “I don't recognize this badge. And his 'ID card' is just a blank piece of paper with gibberish. How strange.” Amy said. “At least he's not a Fed, though. So, that's one less thing to worry about.” Trevor headed toward the exit and slammed several stacks of cash onto the counter. The cashier, who was trembling uncontrollably and on the verge of tears, reluctantly accepted the money. “Our guys will perform any clean-up duties. Just tell the cops that you didn't see what happened, and couldn't make out any faces, alright?” Trevor leaned in and narrowed his eyes. “Go home and see your family. Don't forget who we work for.” “Y-yes, sir.” The cashier said. //Poor kid. But, I didn't have a choice. It's better to be cautious, anyways.// ---- "I can't say that I'm surprised. This is the perfect place to do something that you wouldn't want your parents to know about." Amy said. “This is it? Just some stupid old alleyways. And all these apartments are collecting dust.” Alex remarked. “Stop complaining. Look around: why are there so many cars?” Trevor said. “I don't know. But that guy we killed got a text 10 minutes ago. Apparently, he was supposed to bail out, and the situation became 'urgent.' I guess that happens when bullets start flying, eh?” “It might be due to another reason.” Amy suggested. “Well, it was nice knowing you all...” “Three sedans. Two SUVs. Two armored vans. Dubious.” Emil said. A black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the group, and several gunmen dismounted who had weapons slung over their shoulders. Two men carried MP5 submachine guns, while the third guard had a tactical shotgun with a drum magazine. They also wore ballistic helmets with night vision goggles and were covered in thick body armor. “Damn...” Alex said. “You're Castle's group, huh? Well, it's your lucky day. All of you are to investigate the alleyways until you catch the little fox who whacked our guys, but don't worry: we'll be waiting safely outside in case you need backup.” The guard said in a deep voice. “You can't just use drones?” Amy said. “They can easily be jammed or hacked, don't you know?” “Of course. I'm sure that our safety is the number one priority here...” Trevor shrugged, and his group entered the alleyway at gunpoint. //Damn it. There was so much that I wanted to do. I wanted to get away from it all. Damn it. Damn it.// ---- After about 15 minutes of walking, Trevor was practically surrounded by darkness, as the derelict city block barely had electricity. He noticed that his flashlight dimmed with each passing moment, making him worried that it would die soon. The other flashlights also continued to dim gradually. However, worse than the light issue was the growing stench of something rotting. Turning to his left and right, Trevor noticed that everyone was slightly shaking except for Emil. Alex's eyes darted around nervously while Amy clutched her weapon way too tightly, but Emil showed no sign of worry. Only pure determination, composure, and focus. //I bet this bastard has a resting heart rate right now. That is, if he has a heart. Doesn't he know that we're probably going to die?// A sharp squeak echoed through the alley, causing Alex to jump back. Directing his flashlight to the ground, Trevor caught sight of a rat scurrying behind some trash bags. //Chicken.// Above the pile of trash was an imprint in the brick wall in the shape of a person. The imprint, which was several centimeters deep, was full of congealed blood. As Trevor reeled from the putrid sight, he noticed the others turn their attention elsewhere. Everyone halted. Alex cursed under his breath, then laughed for a moment. Trevor looked at him in annoyance. Seemingly out of nowhere, a bronze statue of a bull rolled toward Trevor—a brazen bull. The statue had two primitive axles and made a squeaky sound as it moved along. Without notice, a pillar of steam shot out from the bull's nostrils, creating a horrible sound, which was a mixture of agonizing screams and a low-pitched bellow. “That sounds like some twisted brass instrument.” Trevor said. “An instrument from the depths of hell, perhaps.” Amy added. “Someone inside. Still burning.” Emil said. There was a crash as a nearby dumpster overturned. All at once, the alleyway seemed to come to life as several mechanical abominations emerged from the shadows. The clattering and grinding of metal came from all directions. Trevor nearly fainted from the sight, hoping that this was just a horrible nightmare. A humanoid statue, whose chest cavity opened to reveal long, jagged spikes, made its way toward Trevor. It moved with great weight behind each step, yet it traveled deceptively fast. The entity's metallic face was contorted into a permanent expression of torment, but what stood out the most was its eyes. Its sunken eyes were piercing and inhuman, but conveyed no expression, just machine-like tenacity. //I've seen those eyes before, haven't I?// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Tor4555]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-11-16T04:03:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Soulless: Part 1 - SCP Foundation	4	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451408009	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/soulless
spellbound-and-hellbound	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aui/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Outskirts of Raywood, Arkansas, 2008</strong></p> </div> <p>The humidity was at 100%, and the mere act of walking felt like a swim through molasses. The tones of the cicadas seemed to match the rhythm of the shimmering heat waves coming off of the gravestones, both of which near overpowering to the senses. The afternoon summer heat seeped out of the rocks as the evening sun bleached the sky pastel hues.</p> <p>I walked past the small plots, dusting off the dirt to read the faded carvings, making a rubbing when the inscriptions became too weathered to fully make out under the glare of the flashlight. <em>Loveday Killow</em>, <em>Cotton Brown</em>. The graveyard had grown over the generations as more of the small town had been put to rest. <em>Charity Thatcher</em>, <em>Eustace Church</em>. Some of the crumbling edifices had protruded from the earth snaggle-toothed-like since before the Civil War, and some of the markings had been worn down to nubs, their owner’s greatly extended family not caring to replace them. <em>Susannah and Edgar Holland</em>. Shame. Made my job more difficult.</p> <p>I mopped the sweat from my temple with a dirty napkin as I stood, popping my back in several places to prevent it from congealing into the inverted L I had been molding it into for the past several hours. The groundskeeper had long since lost the records for the graveyard and its plots in the fire of ‘99, too afraid of Y2K to digitize. Luddite.</p> <p>Standing straight, I could see the serpentine path I had traveled throughout the graveyard. The scuffling of my feet had disturbed the dust-covered grass, and had left a verdant green trail in my wake. Comparing the length of my path to the rest of the graveyard, I still had a lot of ground to cover before sundown. The other teams were already in place.</p> <p>I took a swig from my swiftly-draining water bottle, and goaded myself into continuing. <em>Don’t want to be the person that left the net open.</em> I sighed, and mentally apologized to my back before bending over to inspect more gravestones.</p> <p>It was nearly a half hour later before I found her plot. I almost thought it would be unmarked. Who would carve a tombstone for a spree killer?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7433">Eva McDoyle</a></strong><br/> <strong>Twisted Twirly</strong><br/> <strong>Outlaw</strong><br/> <strong>Dead Spring 1934</strong></p> </blockquote> </div> <p>I breathed a sigh of relief and let out a whistle, stirring a massive creature in the parking lot to life, the grinding of its joints audible even across the property. It rose from its crouch, growing ever larger as it clambered to its clay feet, baked and cracked underneath the Southern sun. Its large gait swiftly covered the grounds between us as it strode over the gravemarkers, the path that took me hours took it but a few moments. The shovel it held looked like a toothpick in its hands, which it gripped as gingerly as it would a delicate vase or housepet.</p> <p>I lifted a tired hand and pointed at the inscribed stone. “Dig.” As I walked to the car to get more water and my tools, I heard <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uiu-file-2003-112">Golem No. 531’s</a> shovel hit the gravedirt with a loud <em>shunk</em>.</p> <hr/> <p>If there is one thing constant, it’s death and taxes. Except taxes require governance, and governance requires politics. Thus, the true heart of the matter is revealed. Everything is death and politics. Especially true in Hell, which is partially below Vegas, already a bit of a hellish place even before Hell erupted beneath it like an ingrown wisdom tooth.</p> <p>The FBI-UIU works to keep the peace in Undervegas, a <em>de facto</em> demilitarized zone between America and Hell, a legal question mark. They keep the succubi under wraps and the gamblers away from Faustian bargains as best they can, but sometimes the politics spills out, and there is little Unusual Incidents can do but containment.</p> <p>Count Glasya-Labolas, commander of thirty-six legions of demons, knower of all things past and yet to come, was unable to forsee his own deposition after his shoddy handling of the financial crisis. Another victim of politics. So he sought to reclaim his position through the collection of guilty souls for his Marquis. Some cynical observers might’ve called it a bribe. Others, politics. He had very little time to do this, as Tartarean entities are not allowed on American soil, and reaping souls without permission from the federal government is technically a felony. Politics.</p> <p>Glasya’s exile sent him plummeting towards Little Rock, which was why there were five teams of necromancers resurrecting serial killers in the heartland of Arkansas. The purpose was twofold: to both draw him away from populated areas with tempting offerings, and arrest him for whatever sticks. Politics.</p> <p>The golem ceased digging as the shovel struck wood, emitting a contented, grinding grunt. Even six feet underground, the living statue’s head rose two feet above the surface. So the golem spoke to my knees, then, a sound like two ancient boulders rubbing together. “Found it, Miss Quinn.”</p> <p>I gave the golem a slap on the back as it gracefully pulled itself out of the pit, hardly disturbing the glossy, machine-perfect edge to the hole as it hoisted the coffin along with it. The coffin was shoddily made from rotten, warped planks and crooked, rusty nails, hazarding tetanus just by being near the damn thing. I gave the golem my flashlight to hold and gently splintered the lid open with my crowbar, disturbing the worms and insects that had made the interior their home.</p> <p>I’d thought I’d find a body to raise. I thought I did, at first. But looking at the body of Eva McDoyle, something was wrong. Her skin was too perfect, her face had not been ravaged by decades of rot and decay. Her clothes were a pristine white, save for four scarlet blossoms spattered on her abdomen. I would have thought she had been perfectly preserved had it not been for the slight shifting, rippling of her body, as if I was observing her from underneath a foot of water.</p> <p>McDoyle’s outfit flickered from a form-fitting <em>la garcone</em> to a loose, flowing sundress to a farmer’s overalls. Her hair shifted from golden locks to brunette bob and back again. The only thing that stayed basically constant were the four blossoms on her chest, but even they seemed to slightly morph as I watched, from four asymmetric bullet wounds to the stab of a pitchfork. But no matter what form she took, she was always beautiful. I bit my lip, and reached out to gently brush the hair from her eyes, and my finger passed right through her forehead, as if she wasn’t there. A hologram. A specter.</p> <p>I grabbed the radio from my belt and keyed the other teams. “Hey Pat, got a live one.”</p> <p>Silence reigned for a moment until the radio squawked back in Patty’s croaking voice. “Repeat that back, Law?” Patty was in the middle of her own dig twenty miles away, raising a Confederate general that hadn’t suffered enough.</p> <p>“McDoyle’s body isn’t here, I think. It’s more of a spirit, or something. Insubstantial.”</p> <p>Her reply was sharp. “Is she mobile? Hostile?”</p> <p>“No, she’s just… changing, I guess. Hair color, manner of death, clothes.”</p> <p>The buzzing of the cicadas had given way to the chirping of crickets. Where the beam of the flashlight failed, the dim flicker from the fireflies illuminated. “Does she <em>feel</em> like the dead, Law?” Patty’s tone was inquisitive.</p> <p>The restless dead, whether they be ghosts or wights, all had the same energy, the same <em>tone</em>. Mud on the tongue, a dull buzzing in the ears. I closed my eyes, and tried to really <em>see</em>, to truly look at McDoyle. I opened my mind to the ether, the rose tattoo on the back of my neck crackled and sparked before activating with a flare, and I could see <em>life</em>. The innumerable scuttling bugs and mice, carpeting the earth. A few faint apparitions of the murdered skulking the shadows, too afraid to approach. The graveyard was lit like under the noonday sun with the sheer density of souls, even as dim as they were. I looked down at McDoyle, as was stunned by the luminosity and hue of the magic cascading off of her body. She was there alright, but the EVE was a different weave and hue than I was used to, too loose to be any good. None of the rituals that I knew of would take.</p> <p>“No, different. More energetic. Wilder.”</p> <p>Silence again. Then, quietly. “The stories all said that she was buried in that graveyard. That might not be the truth, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s sure she’s there, so there she is. All the different retellings, alterations, exaggerations…“ Patty’s voice dropped an octave. “No one remembers the truth about her, they just remember <em>her</em>, whatever that may be. A myth, not a ghost.”</p> <p>I frowned. “What do I do then? Try to bind Simmons?”</p> <p>“No, it’s too late to try and raise Simmons. Glasya’s too close, wouldn’t make a difference.”</p> <p>Another pause, I knew she was talking with the others on her team. “Try to bind McDoyle. Glasya’s not picky, and a living story might make better bait than a soul, anyhow.”</p> <p>I bit my lip again, this time in thought. I blinked away the second sight, the graveyard returning to evening gloom. “Roger. Law out.”</p> <hr/> <p>A story is an intangible thing, even moreso than ghosts or demons. They are made from conjecture and hearsay rather than corpses and ectoplasm, with bones of memes and syntax that don’t play well with being bound. Information yearns to be free, after all. How could you harness a story?</p> <p>Twisted Twirly was essentially an idea-infant, I theorized. Still gestating in a coffin-womb. Not enough people knew of the tragic outlaw to give her full life. Some quirk in the cultural zeitgeist had given her the juice to form, but not become cognizant. I would need to anchor McDoyle somehow, maybe with a fetish or totem, something with a spark to make her pull herself together, to wake up.</p> <p>I looked down at my watch, cursed custom for this job. The second hand swung to the west, and the hour hand inched close to midnight, despite the fact that it was only 9:30. The minute hand did nothing, typical of government contractors. I had time, but not much.</p> <p>How to wake a story? I glanced at the golem, standing over the coffin, looking impassively down at McDoyle. A thought occurred to me. “How does your clayware function, exactly?”</p> <p>The golem’s neck grated as it slowly rotated to lock its eyes on me. “That is proprietary information, Miss Quinn.”</p> <p>Right. “It all boils down to a <em>shem</em>, though? Just an inscription? Everything else is just extra bells and whistles.”</p> <p>“Yes, His Name. Extraneous details are proprietary.” The Hebrew letters inscribed across its forehead seemed to wriggle in the dim light.</p> <p>“Ignoring the patented clayware, would you be able to draw an example of a basic <em>shem</em>? One that is public domain?”</p> <p>The repurposed salesgolem vibrated for a moment. Its naturally programmed instincts to court customers conflicted with some obscure legalese in the Golemancy United contract, but its salesmanship won out.</p> <p>For such a cumbersome figure, the golem had a deft hand. It had accepted a proffered notepad and pen, and quickly went to work. The page was delicately inscribed with beautiful, flowing lettering that seemed out of place on the pragmatic, yellow notepad. The <em>shem</em> felt like it had ontological weight as I held it, heavier than a mere piece of paper. Or maybe that was just the after-effects of hours in the summer sun. “Thank you, 531.”</p> <p>The golem returned to its stiff posture, though its golden eye-flames burned brighter than before with the success of helping a customer. “Your thanks is welcome, Miss Quinn.”</p> <p>I knelt over the coffin, gazing into the eyes of Eva McDoyle. I gently lowered the paper down, until it touched her mouth. To my surprise, the page didn’t pass through her skull, but remained perched over her full red lips, as if the Name of God had forced her to solidify. Using the paper, I levered her mouth open and delicately inserted the page inside, sticking it to the roof of her mouth. If a <em>shem</em> could bring a pile of rocks to life, it could surely awaken a legend.</p> <p>I extracted my hand and leaned forward more, until my lips were level with her ear. I whispered the only Hebrew I knew. <em><Chayi.></em> <em>Live</em>.</p> <p>Her eyes were a beautiful, glimmering green. I noticed the pleasing length of her lashes as they fluttered open, taking in her surroundings for the first time. Her body stopped changing, and seemed to settle on a modest appearance, with dirty blonde hair cut short and a seemingly home-made embroidered dress. As she rose to a sitting position, rubbing her forehead, my mouth suddenly dried, and I barely remembered my rehearsed lines.</p> <p>“Ah, hello. My name is um-right-<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/quinn-law-hub">Quinn Law</a>, and I am a ah-law-heh enforcement agent. I am trying to catch a —you know—criminal, and we—I—thought you might be able to help. Ah, would you be willing to help with this —you know—assignment of your own free will?”</p> <p>Those bottomless green eyes stared at me, and that nose wrinkled in confusion, and I wished lightning would just come down and smite me on the spot.</p> <p>The radio on my belt flickered to life, emanating a quiet, crackling voice, the voice of Patty. “…Sure?”</p> <hr/> <p>McDoyle seemed to take being dead fairly well, even after explaining the reasons behind her resurrection. We moved over to the car, as sitting on a hood was psychologically more comfortable than sitting in your own coffin. Plus, it gave me time to compose myself.</p> <p>Eva didn’t seem to be able to talk. At least, not on her own, a quirk of her malformation, perhaps. The car radio spun through the channels, landing on one station for a moment, than dashing to another, the pitch and volume warbling to give the sound some form of consistency. “You are-FBI?”</p> <p>I looked down at my hands, as those piercing, searching green eyes were almost painful to answer to. “Yeah, I am. But I’m not after you. You’re dead, whatever crimes you did you’ve more than paid for with your life. You’ll have no issue from me.”</p> <p>White noise for a moment. “O-K.”</p> <p>The crickets continued to chirp, and the fireflies still shone. The clouds parted overhead, revealing a full, bulbous moon above. It was a gorgeous night. I leaned back fully on the hood to take in the stars, but left my hip holster unbuttoned for quick access, just in case. My watch chirped. The minute hand moved to 11:57, the second hand pointing south-west. Closer, now.</p> <p>Radio switched to a bluegrass station for a tick before quickly changing. “What will—happ-en—to me—after?”</p> <p>This time I was able to meet her eyes. “Don’t know, really.”</p> <p>The channel changed to a laughing shock jock before spiraling into white noise, the oscillating whine of the static almost seeming like a prodding question.</p> <p>“Well, before I thought I would just put you back in the dirt after the case was over. But now…”</p> <p>“What changed?”</p> <p>“You did. You’re not a ghost, psychopomp, lich, or any other half-dead thing I’ve dealt with before. You’re a living legend, emphasis on <em>living</em>. Wouldn’t know the first step in killing you,” an unwanted smile spread across my face. “Not that I would.”</p> <p>Eva mirrored my smirk with a ghost of her own. It was soft, homely. “What—then?”</p> <p>“Well, can’t really arrest you for vagrancy, so we’d have to just… let you go. Do whatever, travel, work, pleasure. Just don’t commit any crimes, or I might have to see you again.” We shared a grin. She had dimples. “Not many people get a second chance at life, you know.”</p> <p>The radio was quiet in seeming agreement. Eva slowly slid off of the hood, and began padding across the drought-stricken grass with bare feet. She turned her face up to the sky, and closed her eyes. Under the pale moonlight, she looked like a baroque statue, carved in expensive white marble and gilded in gold, the masterwork of a master carver. The blood stains on her dress were hardly visible, and she looked positively bursting with life. Her chest expanded as she took in deep breaths of Arkansan air, an old country song murmuring from the car’s speakers.</p> <p>I knew the story of “Twisted Twirly.” Part of the dossier I was handed when I was assigned to this honeypot. Jilted lover stabbed her fiancé in the back with a pitchfork, committing a string of crimes before being put down in the street by the local sheriff. Bloodiest case the region had seen before or since. I struggled to reconcile the dissonance, between the slasher story and the beautiful woman standing before me, so at odds to what she <em>should</em> be. It didn’t seem matter much. I felt like I was thrust back in time, talking to an old high school crush for how it made my heart skip to be near her, psycho-slasher or no.</p> <p>I hopped off the hood, sidling up to Eva as she looked at the stars. “Ah, Miss McDoyle?”</p> <p>She tilted her head, peering at me from the corner of her eye while still gazing skyward. “Yes?”</p> <p>I shuffled my feet, eyes laser focused on Orion’s Belt. “Well, seeming as all of your accommodations are seventy years past, would you want me to help you get back on your feet? Just until you get situated, of course.”</p> <p>Eva turned to face me, her body close. She had the scent of blood and gunpowder mingled with fresh tulips, a somehow intoxicating sensation. “Oh—Miss—L-aw…”</p> <p>She was very close to me now. Some reckless part of me forced my hands to drift downwards until they brushed against her hips, where they stayed. She looked at me from her few inches of surplus height, her lips quirked. She crouched until our faces were level with each other, and leaned in…</p> <p>The watch on my wrist chirped loudly. The second hand spun wildly around its face, with the hour hand at 12 on the dot. A lone skin-crawling howl echoed throughout the cloudless sky, silencing the crickets and extinguishing the fire-flies. Glasya-Labolas had arrived, the moment shattered.</p> <p>I forced myself to tear away from Eva and keyed my radio. “Bear took the bait. Raywood-Law, immediate response.” I received four clicks in affirmation. The cavalry was coming, hopefully in time.</p> <hr/> <p>I stood from the tailgate of the car, slowly panning the flashlight over the rows of gravestones and the rusted wrought-iron fencing, my pistol in hand. 531 reared to its full height, flames piercing the night, looking for a target. It was altogether too quiet in that damn graveyard for my own nerves, my trigger finger itching to shoot wildly into the dark.</p> <p>There, beyond the fences and in the tree-line, were two brightly glowing green dots, reflecting the beam of the flashlight. The dots and I stared at each other for a moment, before they lowered themselves to the ground, bobbing and slinking closer to the car. Then, the dots disappeared, before I heard the galloping footsteps of something huge approaching the fence.</p> <p>A large silhouette burst from the treeline, leaping over the eight-foot iron bars in a single bound, large raptorial wings snapping out that blocked the starlight above us. White canines glistened, the green dots glared above a snarled muzzle as the creature circled overhead, slowly coming to ground among the gravestones, facing the three of us.</p> <p>For a former Count of Hell, Glasya-Labolas was smaller than I imagined, though was still massive and intimidating. The body of a mastiff, or maybe a wolf-hound, and the mouldering wings of a vulture or eagle. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the golem, and as such towered over Eva and I.</p> <p>I steeled myself. “Glasya-Labolas,” I shouted at the creature. “You are under arrest by the government for crimes committed against perpetual and eternal citizens of the United States of America, including grave robbery, desecration of corpses, and tax evasion. If you do not come quietly, I have been ordered to use lethal force against you.” The only way it could be in any sense lethal would be if I destroyed his Heart, upon which is inscribed his true Name, as well as a list of his sins. It was a small font. But a good bluff.</p> <p>Those feral eyes continue to glimmer a toxic green. I noticed that his body was rather mangy, with clumps of fur missing and the feathers of his wings ruffled and patchy, like a chicken after being mauled by a fox. His tail was that of the upper body of a snake, starving and molting. His weeks after the Undervegas coup had evidently been quite rough.</p> <p>A long, serpentine tongue wormed around sharp canines, dark lips wrinkling before he spoke, a crackling, hoarse sound like that of a centagenarian chain-smoker. “You have something for me, Quinn Law,” he savored my name like a kid with his favorite candy, which I didn’t like at all.</p> <p>Glasya noticed Eva peeping from behind the safety of 531’s boulder-like torso. “Hello, Eva McDoyle. Twisted Twirly herself… or rather, <em>a</em> Twisted Twirly.” He made a coughing, hacking sound tangentially related to a chuckle, embers spewing from his nostrils and smoldering in the grass. “I have something rather precious of yours that might be of interest to you.”</p> <p>I raised my pistol, leveling it between the mastiff’s hell-spawned eyes. “No tricks, Glasya. You know you’re going to Paramax just as well as I, so cool it. You’ll be able to sweet-talk your jailor soon enough.”</p> <p>Glasya sputtered again, the sparks catching in the dry grass, raising smoke. He reared on his back legs, then, flapping his musty wings to keep balance. Glasya stood at least fifteen feet tall now, his rotting face nearly lost in the nighttime gloom if it were not for those eyes. I kept my gun trained on him as he raised a hand of talons, palm-side up. A flickering, sickly green flame sputtered to life in his claws, dancing in the humid wind. “You might have Eva McDoyle’s story, Quinn Law, but I have her <em>soul</em>, rotting in Hell.”</p> <p>The emerald blaze twisted and warped in the breeze, growing into a swaying, screaming simulacrum of Eva. I glanced back to my Eva, and she was staring, paralyzed at Glasya. But there was something in her eyes, a spark of something. Pinpricks of pure, unmasked anger laser-pointed at her soul’s captor. I affixed a similar glare to the lupine demon. “And?”</p> <p>“I am a civilized creature, Quinn Law, a creature of etiquette and society. A story, or a soul. I would gladly trade one for the other.”</p> <p>I nearly laughed. “Are you trying to bargain with me? Bribery? Why would I deal with you, when we can just confiscate your assets and let you rot?”</p> <p>Glasya’s snout contorted even more, skin ripping from flesh to convey the strength of his disdain. “If you will not barter, I will merely kill you, take the myth, and destroy the hell-bound soul. I was simply extending a courtesy.” I could see green worms wriggling behind his radioactive eyes. “You are bound to protect and serve, Quinn Law. So which is it? Protect a barely sentient slush of ideas, or the soul of an American citizen?”</p> <p>I tightened my grip on my pistol, so tempted to drill a sanctified hole in his tartarean skull. I called out to the golem behind me. “Extortion as well as bribery. 531, arrest this demon—“ I summoned all the venom I could muster into my next words—“with force.”</p> <p>The golem patted Eva on the shoulder. “Please stay here, Miss McDoyle.”</p> <p>No. 531 rumbled forwards, cracking baked clay knuckles as it rolled its sloped, rocky shoulders, like a grizzly bear itching for a brawl. Glasya clenched his claws, suffocating the flame. “Fine then,” he spat fire. “Pride is a cardinal sin, Quinn Law. I’ll have your soul for it.”</p> <p>531 reached out and grabbed Glasya-Labolas by the neck, squeezing the corpusculent flesh to pulp. It turned around and heaved the demon over its back, over its head and down towards the ground at terminal velocity, burying his head into grave-dirt in a perfect piledriver.</p> <p>Upside down and in a vise, Glasya howled and scratched at 531’s stone hide with furious, blind swipes of its claws. Enough to to decapitate a man, the blows dug foot-long furrows across 531’s craggy torso. The salesgolem, modified for messy fieldwork, roared a challenge as it grabbed the demon dog’s hind legs and <em>twisted</em>, pinning the rest of Glasya’s body between its legs while it mangled and reversed his spine. Forcing it clockwise by degrees, each twist was rewarded with the snapping of ligament and vertabrae.</p> <p>Glasya’s voice dripped rancid bile underneath half a ton of rock. “I will rend your body to gravel, you worthless Levantine tool.” Emphasizing his retort, his snake-tail hissed, and dove into 531’s grimacing mouth.</p> <p>I don’t know exactly what happened, the exchange went by too fast to properly react in time. 531 released Glasya’s legs to grab at the snake in his throat, pulling desperately to yank it out, but suddenly froze. I repeatedly squeezed the trigger of the M1911, pumping silver banishment rounds into Glasya’s twitching, wretched body. But by then, the damage was done. I think the snake had rewritten the <em>shem</em> in 531’s mouth with its infernal venom, changing the golem’s operating parameters. Those operating parameters fell outside of Golemancy’s tolerances and safety guidelines, so it did what any dangerous product is supposed to do: meltdown.</p> <p>531’s eye-fires guttered and spat as its mind underwent cognitive disassembly. Its grip on Labolas loosened as stone turned to clay turned to liquid slurry. Seizing his chance, the demon ripped itself from the sublimating golem and spun his spine back into its proper configuration, bones rattling. As one final insult to injury, Glasya licked the dripping Hebrew off of 531’s forehead with his forked tongue, extinguishing its golden flames.</p> <p>Glasya paused to shake the clay off of his ragged fur coat, before turning to lock eyes with me, his radiating green hate. I gritted my teeth while I reloaded. “Resisting arrest as well, Glasya? You’re going away for a long time.”</p> <p>I glanced back at Eva to try and prod her with my eyes to hightail it, but it didn’t take. She was staring at the chunks of former golem mixed with shattered grave markers, her face contorted and darkened, harboring a nasty, vile expression. The scarlet blossoms on her chest darkened in hue and slowly spread, changing white linens into blood-soaked rags. A grasping, clenching hand found the handle of a pitchfork from nothing, rusty but sharp. Her ruby lips contorted into a sneer as she fixed her gaze on Glasya, and spoke for the first time. “He did me a kindness, and you killed him for it.”</p> <p>The wolf’s voice was as sharp as flint as he slowly paced across the graveyard grounds, hackles raised and wings spread. “Wrath is a bitter fruit, Eva McDoyle, I’d hate for it to sour you.”</p> <p>Eva didn’t acknowledge the retort, merely issuing a grunt of exertion as she chucked the pitchfork like a career javelineer, embedding it in Glasya’s side. The wound bled hellfire as Glasya let out a blackboard-scraping screech, punctuated by rapid-fire gunshots as I emptied another mag into Glasya’s skull.</p> <p>Eva ran forward and wrenched the pitchfork out of the demon’s side, ignoring the gouting hell-flame as she stabbed him once, twice, opening up his belly and spilling rancid guts. I approached steadily, swapping mags and letting loose, not giving him reprieve for a second. He found it anyways, lashing out his snake tail and biting deep into Eva’s shoulder. As soon as she let go of the pitchfork in pain, Glasya leapt to his feet and sprinted towards me, teeth gleaming and tail hissing, leaving a trail of flame and intenstines in his wake.</p> <p>I barely raised my wards in time as he tackled me, crushing me with the weight of his body alone. His teeth came down on my neck like a guillotine, iron canines sparking against flickering wards. My chest felt like it was bound in steel, an elephant on my stomach, as the hellhound savaged me, wards failing under the onslaught one by one, burning my skin from the blowback. I had maybe a few seconds before my disembowelment and lethal embarrassment in front of Eva.</p> <p><em>His Heart, I need his Heart</em>. I raised a hand and pressed it to his chest. Glasya’s body was a corpse in waiting, actively falling apart as he frantically searched for gifts for his Marquis. All I had to do was get it to obey me.</p> <p>Again, I pushed <em>out</em>, but not broadly searching for life, instead forming my psyche into a thought-sharp harpoon, firing it into his own. A demon’s mind is one of chaos and violence, barely shackled forces of death and destruction that hardly make sense to our orderly, Euclidean monkey brains. But even I was able to detect a hint of surprise from his aura as he paused briefly in his assault. “Oh.”</p> <p>In his moment of shock at my recklessness, I was able to wrest control. The body was only held together with Glasya’s spite and duct tape, but now I bent it to my will. I opened the rib cage, cut the arteries and veins, loosened the skin, and his Heart fell neatly into my waiting hand.</p> <p>Glasya stared at me in shock and wailed. “No, you can’t do that, that’s against the rules!”</p> <p>Ignoring his cries, I skimmed the Heart until I found it, his true name. It was a bitch to pronounce, but I was able to utter it quick enough. “Sleep.”</p> <p>The green glow of his eyes faded and his body froze above me, as his mind went on a vacation. I scrambled out from underneath as it came crashing to the ground, leaking oil and maggots. Eva had been on top the entire time, frantically skewering Glasya repeatedly while he was mauling me.</p> <p>The body of the Count steamed and twitched, the holes left by the stab of the pitchfork and .45 ACP glowed with infernal heat as if he was stuffed with hot coals. Eva’s chest heaved from exertion as she gripped her weapon tight, eyes darting around for any more threats, until they landed on me.</p> <p>I slowly holstered my pistol and pocketed the Heart, eyes locked unwavering to hers. Her pitchfork dissolved into vapors as she stepped off of the body of the hell-hound. I slowly clambered to my feet, body aching but ready. The gap between us closed until it was hair’s breadth, our faces so close together that her eyes merged into one giant green pool, so large that it could have swallowed me up without resistance. The radio switched to a crooning ballad as the rage in Eva’s eyes faded, replaced by something else entirely. I don’t know how, but the gap fully closed as my lips found their way to hers, and her body wrapped itself around mine.</p> <p>I was bloody, sweaty, and covered with insect bites, but that was the least of my worries as Eva easily tossed me in the back of the car. She quickly followed afterwards, her ruined clothes going the same way as her pitchfork. Thankfully I uncovered reserves of energy I didn’t know I had, though they were as quickly drained as found. A concealment charm prevented discovery from the cavalry’s arrival, but only just.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/spellbound-and-hellbound">Spellbound and Hellbound</a>" by Anorrack, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/spellbound-and-hellbound">https://scpwiki.com/spellbound-and-hellbound</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:ui">:scp-wiki:theme:ui</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] Outskirts of Raywood, Arkansas, 2008 [[/=]] The humidity was at 100%, and the mere act of walking felt like a swim through molasses. The tones of the cicadas seemed to match the rhythm of the shimmering heat waves coming off of the gravestones, both of which near overpowering to the senses. The afternoon summer heat seeped out of the rocks as the evening sun bleached the sky pastel hues. I walked past the small plots, dusting off the dirt to read the faded carvings, making a rubbing when the inscriptions became too weathered to fully make out under the glare of the flashlight. //Loveday Killow//, //Cotton Brown//. The graveyard had grown over the generations as more of the small town had been put to rest. //Charity Thatcher//, //Eustace Church//. Some of the crumbling edifices had protruded from the earth snaggle-toothed-like since before the Civil War, and some of the markings had been worn down to nubs, their owner’s greatly extended family not caring to replace them. //Susannah and Edgar Holland//. Shame. Made my job more difficult. I mopped the sweat from my temple with a dirty napkin as I stood, popping my back in several places to prevent it from congealing into the inverted L I had been molding it into for the past several hours. The groundskeeper had long since lost the records for the graveyard and its plots in the fire of ‘99, too afraid of Y2K to digitize. Luddite. Standing straight, I could see the serpentine path I had traveled throughout the graveyard. The scuffling of my feet had disturbed the dust-covered grass, and had left a verdant green trail in my wake. Comparing the length of my path to the rest of the graveyard, I still had a lot of ground to cover before sundown. The other teams were already in place. I took a swig from my swiftly-draining water bottle, and goaded myself into continuing. //Don’t want to be the person that left the net open.// I sighed, and mentally apologized to my back before bending over to inspect more gravestones. It was nearly a half hour later before I found her plot. I almost thought it would be unmarked. Who would carve a tombstone for a spree killer? [[=]] > [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7433 Eva McDoyle] > Twisted Twirly > Outlaw > Dead Spring 1934 [[/=]] I breathed a sigh of relief and let out a whistle, stirring a massive creature in the parking lot to life, the grinding of its joints audible even across the property. It rose from its crouch, growing ever larger as it clambered to its clay feet, baked and cracked underneath the Southern sun. Its large gait swiftly covered the grounds between us as it strode over the gravemarkers, the path that took me hours took it but a few moments. The shovel it held looked like a toothpick in its hands, which it gripped as gingerly as it would a delicate vase or housepet. I lifted a tired hand and pointed at the inscribed stone. “Dig.” As I walked to the car to get more water and my tools, I heard [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uiu-file-2003-112 Golem No. 531’s] shovel hit the gravedirt with a loud //shunk//. ------ If there is one thing constant, it’s death and taxes. Except taxes require governance, and governance requires politics. Thus, the true heart of the matter is revealed. Everything is death and politics. Especially true in Hell, which is partially below Vegas, already a bit of a hellish place even before Hell erupted beneath it like an ingrown wisdom tooth. The FBI-UIU works to keep the peace in Undervegas, a //de facto// demilitarized zone between America and Hell, a legal question mark. They keep the succubi under wraps and the gamblers away from Faustian bargains as best they can, but sometimes the politics spills out, and there is little Unusual Incidents can do but containment. Count Glasya-Labolas, commander of thirty-six legions of demons, knower of all things past and yet to come, was unable to forsee his own deposition after his shoddy handling of the financial crisis. Another victim of politics. So he sought to reclaim his position through the collection of guilty souls for his Marquis. Some cynical observers might’ve called it a bribe. Others, politics. He had very little time to do this, as Tartarean entities are not allowed on American soil, and reaping souls without permission from the federal government is technically a felony. Politics. Glasya’s exile sent him plummeting towards Little Rock, which was why there were five teams of necromancers resurrecting serial killers in the heartland of Arkansas. The purpose was twofold: to both draw him away from populated areas with tempting offerings, and arrest him for whatever sticks. Politics. The golem ceased digging as the shovel struck wood, emitting a contented, grinding grunt. Even six feet underground, the living statue’s head rose two feet above the surface. So the golem spoke to my knees, then, a sound like two ancient boulders rubbing together. “Found it, Miss Quinn.” I gave the golem a slap on the back as it gracefully pulled itself out of the pit, hardly disturbing the glossy, machine-perfect edge to the hole as it hoisted the coffin along with it. The coffin was shoddily made from rotten, warped planks and crooked, rusty nails, hazarding tetanus just by being near the damn thing. I gave the golem my flashlight to hold and gently splintered the lid open with my crowbar, disturbing the worms and insects that had made the interior their home. I’d thought I’d find a body to raise. I thought I did, at first. But looking at the body of Eva McDoyle, something was wrong. Her skin was too perfect, her face had not been ravaged by decades of rot and decay. Her clothes were a pristine white, save for four scarlet blossoms spattered on her abdomen. I would have thought she had been perfectly preserved had it not been for the slight shifting, rippling of her body, as if I was observing her from underneath a foot of water. McDoyle’s outfit flickered from a form-fitting //la garcone// to a loose, flowing sundress to a farmer’s overalls. Her hair shifted from golden locks to brunette bob and back again. The only thing that stayed basically constant were the four blossoms on her chest, but even they seemed to slightly morph as I watched, from four asymmetric bullet wounds to the stab of a pitchfork. But no matter what form she took, she was always beautiful. I bit my lip, and reached out to gently brush the hair from her eyes, and my finger passed right through her forehead, as if she wasn’t there. A hologram. A specter. I grabbed the radio from my belt and keyed the other teams. “Hey Pat, got a live one.” Silence reigned for a moment until the radio squawked back in Patty’s croaking voice. “Repeat that back, Law?” Patty was in the middle of her own dig twenty miles away, raising a Confederate general that hadn’t suffered enough. “McDoyle’s body isn’t here, I think. It’s more of a spirit, or something. Insubstantial.” Her reply was sharp. “Is she mobile? Hostile?” “No, she’s just… changing, I guess. Hair color, manner of death, clothes.” The buzzing of the cicadas had given way to the chirping of crickets. Where the beam of the flashlight failed, the dim flicker from the fireflies illuminated. “Does she //feel// like the dead, Law?” Patty’s tone was inquisitive. The restless dead, whether they be ghosts or wights, all had the same energy, the same //tone//. Mud on the tongue, a dull buzzing in the ears. I closed my eyes, and tried to really //see//, to truly look at McDoyle. I opened my mind to the ether, the rose tattoo on the back of my neck crackled and sparked before activating with a flare, and I could see //life//. The innumerable scuttling bugs and mice, carpeting the earth. A few faint apparitions of the murdered skulking the shadows, too afraid to approach. The graveyard was lit like under the noonday sun with the sheer density of souls, even as dim as they were. I looked down at McDoyle, as was stunned by the luminosity and hue of the magic cascading off of her body. She was there alright, but the EVE was a different weave and hue than I was used to, too loose to be any good. None of the rituals that I knew of would take. “No, different. More energetic. Wilder.” Silence again. Then, quietly. “The stories all said that she was buried in that graveyard. That might not be the truth, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s sure she’s there, so there she is. All the different retellings, alterations, exaggerations…“ Patty’s voice dropped an octave. “No one remembers the truth about her, they just remember //her//, whatever that may be. A myth, not a ghost.” I frowned. “What do I do then? Try to bind Simmons?” “No, it’s too late to try and raise Simmons. Glasya’s too close, wouldn’t make a difference.” Another pause, I knew she was talking with the others on her team. “Try to bind McDoyle. Glasya’s not picky, and a living story might make better bait than a soul, anyhow.” I bit my lip again, this time in thought. I blinked away the second sight, the graveyard returning to evening gloom. “Roger. Law out.” ------ A story is an intangible thing, even moreso than ghosts or demons. They are made from conjecture and hearsay rather than corpses and ectoplasm, with bones of memes and syntax that don’t play well with being bound. Information yearns to be free, after all. How could you harness a story? Twisted Twirly was essentially an idea-infant, I theorized. Still gestating in a coffin-womb. Not enough people knew of the tragic outlaw to give her full life. Some quirk in the cultural zeitgeist had given her the juice to form, but not become cognizant. I would need to anchor McDoyle somehow, maybe with a fetish or totem, something with a spark to make her pull herself together, to wake up. I looked down at my watch, cursed custom for this job. The second hand swung to the west, and the hour hand inched close to midnight, despite the fact that it was only 9:30. The minute hand did nothing, typical of government contractors. I had time, but not much. How to wake a story? I glanced at the golem, standing over the coffin, looking impassively down at McDoyle. A thought occurred to me. “How does your clayware function, exactly?” The golem’s neck grated as it slowly rotated to lock its eyes on me. “That is proprietary information, Miss Quinn.” Right. “It all boils down to a //shem//, though? Just an inscription? Everything else is just extra bells and whistles.” “Yes, His Name. Extraneous details are proprietary.” The Hebrew letters inscribed across its forehead seemed to wriggle in the dim light. “Ignoring the patented clayware, would you be able to draw an example of a basic //shem//? One that is public domain?” The repurposed salesgolem vibrated for a moment. Its naturally programmed instincts to court customers conflicted with some obscure legalese in the Golemancy United contract, but its salesmanship won out. For such a cumbersome figure, the golem had a deft hand. It had accepted a proffered notepad and pen, and quickly went to work. The page was delicately inscribed with beautiful, flowing lettering that seemed out of place on the pragmatic, yellow notepad. The //shem// felt like it had ontological weight as I held it, heavier than a mere piece of paper. Or maybe that was just the after-effects of hours in the summer sun. “Thank you, 531.” The golem returned to its stiff posture, though its golden eye-flames burned brighter than before with the success of helping a customer. “Your thanks is welcome, Miss Quinn.” I knelt over the coffin, gazing into the eyes of Eva McDoyle. I gently lowered the paper down, until it touched her mouth. To my surprise, the page didn’t pass through her skull, but remained perched over her full red lips, as if the Name of God had forced her to solidify. Using the paper, I levered her mouth open and delicately inserted the page inside, sticking it to the roof of her mouth. If a //shem// could bring a pile of rocks to life, it could surely awaken a legend. I extracted my hand and leaned forward more, until my lips were level with her ear. I whispered the only Hebrew I knew. //<Chayi.>// //Live//. Her eyes were a beautiful, glimmering green. I noticed the pleasing length of her lashes as they fluttered open, taking in her surroundings for the first time. Her body stopped changing, and seemed to settle on a modest appearance, with dirty blonde hair cut short and a seemingly home-made embroidered dress. As she rose to a sitting position, rubbing her forehead, my mouth suddenly dried, and I barely remembered my rehearsed lines. “Ah, hello. My name is um-right-[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/quinn-law-hub Quinn Law], and I am a ah-law-heh enforcement agent. I am trying to catch a —you know—criminal, and we—I—thought you might be able to help. Ah, would you be willing to help with this —you know—assignment of your own free will?” Those bottomless green eyes stared at me, and that nose wrinkled in confusion, and I wished lightning would just come down and smite me on the spot. The radio on my belt flickered to life, emanating a quiet, crackling voice, the voice of Patty. “...Sure?” ------ McDoyle seemed to take being dead fairly well, even after explaining the reasons behind her resurrection. We moved over to the car, as sitting on a hood was psychologically more comfortable than sitting in your own coffin. Plus, it gave me time to compose myself. Eva didn’t seem to be able to talk. At least, not on her own, a quirk of her malformation, perhaps. The car radio spun through the channels, landing on one station for a moment, than dashing to another, the pitch and volume warbling to give the sound some form of consistency. “You are-FBI?” I looked down at my hands, as those piercing, searching green eyes were almost painful to answer to. “Yeah, I am. But I’m not after you. You’re dead, whatever crimes you did you’ve more than paid for with your life. You’ll have no issue from me.” White noise for a moment. “O-K.” The crickets continued to chirp, and the fireflies still shone. The clouds parted overhead, revealing a full, bulbous moon above. It was a gorgeous night. I leaned back fully on the hood to take in the stars, but left my hip holster unbuttoned for quick access, just in case. My watch chirped. The minute hand moved to 11:57, the second hand pointing south-west. Closer, now. Radio switched to a bluegrass station for a tick before quickly changing. “What will—happ-en—to me—after?” This time I was able to meet her eyes. “Don’t know, really.” The channel changed to a laughing shock jock before spiraling into white noise, the oscillating whine of the static almost seeming like a prodding question. “Well, before I thought I would just put you back in the dirt after the case was over. But now…” “What changed?” “You did. You’re not a ghost, psychopomp, lich, or any other half-dead thing I’ve dealt with before. You’re a living legend, emphasis on //living//. Wouldn’t know the first step in killing you,” an unwanted smile spread across my face. “Not that I would.” Eva mirrored my smirk with a ghost of her own. It was soft, homely. “What—then?” “Well, can’t really arrest you for vagrancy, so we’d have to just… let you go. Do whatever, travel, work, pleasure. Just don’t commit any crimes, or I might have to see you again.” We shared a grin. She had dimples. “Not many people get a second chance at life, you know.” The radio was quiet in seeming agreement. Eva slowly slid off of the hood, and began padding across the drought-stricken grass with bare feet. She turned her face up to the sky, and closed her eyes. Under the pale moonlight, she looked like a baroque statue, carved in expensive white marble and gilded in gold, the masterwork of a master carver. The blood stains on her dress were hardly visible, and she looked positively bursting with life. Her chest expanded as she took in deep breaths of Arkansan air, an old country song murmuring from the car’s speakers. I knew the story of “Twisted Twirly.” Part of the dossier I was handed when I was assigned to this honeypot. Jilted lover stabbed her fiancé in the back with a pitchfork, committing a string of crimes before being put down in the street by the local sheriff. Bloodiest case the region had seen before or since. I struggled to reconcile the dissonance, between the slasher story and the beautiful woman standing before me, so at odds to what she //should// be. It didn’t seem matter much. I felt like I was thrust back in time, talking to an old high school crush for how it made my heart skip to be near her, psycho-slasher or no. I hopped off the hood, sidling up to Eva as she looked at the stars. “Ah, Miss McDoyle?” She tilted her head, peering at me from the corner of her eye while still gazing skyward. “Yes?” I shuffled my feet, eyes laser focused on Orion’s Belt. “Well, seeming as all of your accommodations are seventy years past, would you want me to help you get back on your feet? Just until you get situated, of course.” Eva turned to face me, her body close. She had the scent of blood and gunpowder mingled with fresh tulips, a somehow intoxicating sensation. “Oh—Miss—L-aw...” She was very close to me now. Some reckless part of me forced my hands to drift downwards until they brushed against her hips, where they stayed. She looked at me from her few inches of surplus height, her lips quirked. She crouched until our faces were level with each other, and leaned in... The watch on my wrist chirped loudly. The second hand spun wildly around its face, with the hour hand at 12 on the dot. A lone skin-crawling howl echoed throughout the cloudless sky, silencing the crickets and extinguishing the fire-flies. Glasya-Labolas had arrived, the moment shattered. I forced myself to tear away from Eva and keyed my radio. “Bear took the bait. Raywood-Law, immediate response.” I received four clicks in affirmation. The cavalry was coming, hopefully in time. ------ I stood from the tailgate of the car, slowly panning the flashlight over the rows of gravestones and the rusted wrought-iron fencing, my pistol in hand. 531 reared to its full height, flames piercing the night, looking for a target. It was altogether too quiet in that damn graveyard for my own nerves, my trigger finger itching to shoot wildly into the dark. There, beyond the fences and in the tree-line, were two brightly glowing green dots, reflecting the beam of the flashlight. The dots and I stared at each other for a moment, before they lowered themselves to the ground, bobbing and slinking closer to the car. Then, the dots disappeared, before I heard the galloping footsteps of something huge approaching the fence. A large silhouette burst from the treeline, leaping over the eight-foot iron bars in a single bound, large raptorial wings snapping out that blocked the starlight above us. White canines glistened, the green dots glared above a snarled muzzle as the creature circled overhead, slowly coming to ground among the gravestones, facing the three of us. For a former Count of Hell, Glasya-Labolas was smaller than I imagined, though was still massive and intimidating. The body of a mastiff, or maybe a wolf-hound, and the mouldering wings of a vulture or eagle. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the golem, and as such towered over Eva and I. I steeled myself. “Glasya-Labolas,” I shouted at the creature. “You are under arrest by the government for crimes committed against perpetual and eternal citizens of the United States of America, including grave robbery, desecration of corpses, and tax evasion. If you do not come quietly, I have been ordered to use lethal force against you.” The only way it could be in any sense lethal would be if I destroyed his Heart, upon which is inscribed his true Name, as well as a list of his sins. It was a small font. But a good bluff. Those feral eyes continue to glimmer a toxic green. I noticed that his body was rather mangy, with clumps of fur missing and the feathers of his wings ruffled and patchy, like a chicken after being mauled by a fox. His tail was that of the upper body of a snake, starving and molting. His weeks after the Undervegas coup had evidently been quite rough. A long, serpentine tongue wormed around sharp canines, dark lips wrinkling before he spoke, a crackling, hoarse sound like that of a centagenarian chain-smoker. “You have something for me, Quinn Law,” he savored my name like a kid with his favorite candy, which I didn’t like at all. Glasya noticed Eva peeping from behind the safety of 531’s boulder-like torso. “Hello, Eva McDoyle. Twisted Twirly herself… or rather, //a// Twisted Twirly.” He made a coughing, hacking sound tangentially related to a chuckle, embers spewing from his nostrils and smoldering in the grass. “I have something rather precious of yours that might be of interest to you.” I raised my pistol, leveling it between the mastiff’s hell-spawned eyes. “No tricks, Glasya. You know you’re going to Paramax just as well as I, so cool it. You’ll be able to sweet-talk your jailor soon enough.” Glasya sputtered again, the sparks catching in the dry grass, raising smoke. He reared on his back legs, then, flapping his musty wings to keep balance. Glasya stood at least fifteen feet tall now, his rotting face nearly lost in the nighttime gloom if it were not for those eyes. I kept my gun trained on him as he raised a hand of talons, palm-side up. A flickering, sickly green flame sputtered to life in his claws, dancing in the humid wind. “You might have Eva McDoyle’s story, Quinn Law, but I have her //soul//, rotting in Hell.” The emerald blaze twisted and warped in the breeze, growing into a swaying, screaming simulacrum of Eva. I glanced back to my Eva, and she was staring, paralyzed at Glasya. But there was something in her eyes, a spark of something. Pinpricks of pure, unmasked anger laser-pointed at her soul’s captor. I affixed a similar glare to the lupine demon. “And?” “I am a civilized creature, Quinn Law, a creature of etiquette and society. A story, or a soul. I would gladly trade one for the other.” I nearly laughed. “Are you trying to bargain with me? Bribery? Why would I deal with you, when we can just confiscate your assets and let you rot?” Glasya’s snout contorted even more, skin ripping from flesh to convey the strength of his disdain. “If you will not barter, I will merely kill you, take the myth, and destroy the hell-bound soul. I was simply extending a courtesy.” I could see green worms wriggling behind his radioactive eyes. “You are bound to protect and serve, Quinn Law. So which is it? Protect a barely sentient slush of ideas, or the soul of an American citizen?” I tightened my grip on my pistol, so tempted to drill a sanctified hole in his tartarean skull. I called out to the golem behind me. “Extortion as well as bribery. 531, arrest this demon—“ I summoned all the venom I could muster into my next words—“with force.” The golem patted Eva on the shoulder. “Please stay here, Miss McDoyle.” No. 531 rumbled forwards, cracking baked clay knuckles as it rolled its sloped, rocky shoulders, like a grizzly bear itching for a brawl. Glasya clenched his claws, suffocating the flame. “Fine then,” he spat fire. “Pride is a cardinal sin, Quinn Law. I’ll have your soul for it.” 531 reached out and grabbed Glasya-Labolas by the neck, squeezing the corpusculent flesh to pulp. It turned around and heaved the demon over its back, over its head and down towards the ground at terminal velocity, burying his head into grave-dirt in a perfect piledriver. Upside down and in a vise, Glasya howled and scratched at 531’s stone hide with furious, blind swipes of its claws. Enough to to decapitate a man, the blows dug foot-long furrows across 531’s craggy torso. The salesgolem, modified for messy fieldwork, roared a challenge as it grabbed the demon dog’s hind legs and //twisted//, pinning the rest of Glasya’s body between its legs while it mangled and reversed his spine. Forcing it clockwise by degrees, each twist was rewarded with the snapping of ligament and vertabrae. Glasya’s voice dripped rancid bile underneath half a ton of rock. “I will rend your body to gravel, you worthless Levantine tool.” Emphasizing his retort, his snake-tail hissed, and dove into 531’s grimacing mouth. I don’t know exactly what happened, the exchange went by too fast to properly react in time. 531 released Glasya’s legs to grab at the snake in his throat, pulling desperately to yank it out, but suddenly froze. I repeatedly squeezed the trigger of the M1911, pumping silver banishment rounds into Glasya’s twitching, wretched body. But by then, the damage was done. I think the snake had rewritten the //shem// in 531’s mouth with its infernal venom, changing the golem’s operating parameters. Those operating parameters fell outside of Golemancy’s tolerances and safety guidelines, so it did what any dangerous product is supposed to do: meltdown. 531’s eye-fires guttered and spat as its mind underwent cognitive disassembly. Its grip on Labolas loosened as stone turned to clay turned to liquid slurry. Seizing his chance, the demon ripped itself from the sublimating golem and spun his spine back into its proper configuration, bones rattling. As one final insult to injury, Glasya licked the dripping Hebrew off of 531’s forehead with his forked tongue, extinguishing its golden flames. Glasya paused to shake the clay off of his ragged fur coat, before turning to lock eyes with me, his radiating green hate. I gritted my teeth while I reloaded. “Resisting arrest as well, Glasya? You’re going away for a long time.” I glanced back at Eva to try and prod her with my eyes to hightail it, but it didn’t take. She was staring at the chunks of former golem mixed with shattered grave markers, her face contorted and darkened, harboring a nasty, vile expression. The scarlet blossoms on her chest darkened in hue and slowly spread, changing white linens into blood-soaked rags. A grasping, clenching hand found the handle of a pitchfork from nothing, rusty but sharp. Her ruby lips contorted into a sneer as she fixed her gaze on Glasya, and spoke for the first time. “He did me a kindness, and you killed him for it.” The wolf’s voice was as sharp as flint as he slowly paced across the graveyard grounds, hackles raised and wings spread. “Wrath is a bitter fruit, Eva McDoyle, I’d hate for it to sour you.” Eva didn’t acknowledge the retort, merely issuing a grunt of exertion as she chucked the pitchfork like a career javelineer, embedding it in Glasya’s side. The wound bled hellfire as Glasya let out a blackboard-scraping screech, punctuated by rapid-fire gunshots as I emptied another mag into Glasya’s skull. Eva ran forward and wrenched the pitchfork out of the demon’s side, ignoring the gouting hell-flame as she stabbed him once, twice, opening up his belly and spilling rancid guts. I approached steadily, swapping mags and letting loose, not giving him reprieve for a second. He found it anyways, lashing out his snake tail and biting deep into Eva’s shoulder. As soon as she let go of the pitchfork in pain, Glasya leapt to his feet and sprinted towards me, teeth gleaming and tail hissing, leaving a trail of flame and intenstines in his wake. I barely raised my wards in time as he tackled me, crushing me with the weight of his body alone. His teeth came down on my neck like a guillotine, iron canines sparking against flickering wards. My chest felt like it was bound in steel, an elephant on my stomach, as the hellhound savaged me, wards failing under the onslaught one by one, burning my skin from the blowback. I had maybe a few seconds before my disembowelment and lethal embarrassment in front of Eva. //His Heart, I need his Heart//. I raised a hand and pressed it to his chest. Glasya’s body was a corpse in waiting, actively falling apart as he frantically searched for gifts for his Marquis. All I had to do was get it to obey me. Again, I pushed //out//, but not broadly searching for life, instead forming my psyche into a thought-sharp harpoon, firing it into his own. A demon’s mind is one of chaos and violence, barely shackled forces of death and destruction that hardly make sense to our orderly, Euclidean monkey brains. But even I was able to detect a hint of surprise from his aura as he paused briefly in his assault. “Oh.” In his moment of shock at my recklessness, I was able to wrest control. The body was only held together with Glasya’s spite and duct tape, but now I bent it to my will. I opened the rib cage, cut the arteries and veins, loosened the skin, and his Heart fell neatly into my waiting hand. Glasya stared at me in shock and wailed. “No, you can’t do that, that’s against the rules!” Ignoring his cries, I skimmed the Heart until I found it, his true name. It was a bitch to pronounce, but I was able to utter it quick enough. “Sleep.” The green glow of his eyes faded and his body froze above me, as his mind went on a vacation. I scrambled out from underneath as it came crashing to the ground, leaking oil and maggots. Eva had been on top the entire time, frantically skewering Glasya repeatedly while he was mauling me. The body of the Count steamed and twitched, the holes left by the stab of the pitchfork and .45 ACP glowed with infernal heat as if he was stuffed with hot coals. Eva’s chest heaved from exertion as she gripped her weapon tight, eyes darting around for any more threats, until they landed on me. I slowly holstered my pistol and pocketed the Heart, eyes locked unwavering to hers. Her pitchfork dissolved into vapors as she stepped off of the body of the hell-hound. I slowly clambered to my feet, body aching but ready. The gap between us closed until it was hair’s breadth, our faces so close together that her eyes merged into one giant green pool, so large that it could have swallowed me up without resistance. The radio switched to a crooning ballad as the rage in Eva’s eyes faded, replaced by something else entirely. I don’t know how, but the gap fully closed as my lips found their way to hers, and her body wrapped itself around mine. I was bloody, sweaty, and covered with insect bites, but that was the least of my worries as Eva easily tossed me in the back of the car. She quickly followed afterwards, her ruined clothes going the same way as her pitchfork. Thankfully I uncovered reserves of energy I didn’t know I had, though they were as quickly drained as found. A concealment charm prevented discovery from the cavalry’s arrival, but only just. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Anorrack]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-26T20:58:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "crime-fiction", "fantasy", "lgbtq", "mythological", "romance", "romcon2023-unofficial", "tale", "undervegas", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	Spellbound and Hellbound - SCP Foundation	17	[ "scp-7433", "uiu-file-2003-112", "quinn-law-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon", "quinn-law-hub", "undervegas-hub" ]	[]	1447903204	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spellbound-and-hellbound
spiders-crawling-under-our-skin	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p>CONTENT WARNING: Spiders, eye/body horror, ugliness/unrealistic beauty standards, depression, addiction/implied overdose, death, bullying/gaslighting, child neglect.</p> </blockquote> <p>“Miss Elgert! Are you paying attention?” asked the teacher. She was very stern and pinched, lines etched into a taut mouth and a greying widow's peak.</p> <p>But, one could argue that the Teacher - Miss Taylor, was her name - had great right to be gnarled and horrible; she was quite old. Miss Elgert was eleven years of age, and had no such excuse. She was greatly intelligent, though in no way that could be quantified proper to the schooling system. Her tests came back marked with red, so she ought to be quite stupid they thought.</p> <p>She was a horrible girl, with black hair in clumps and tangles that fell down her back and in her face like vines. Her skin was gaunt and pale, and her eyes looked like bruises, with deep bags and purpled veins on the lids. Her lips were a faint blue, like she had been strangled, and her voice was hoarse, like she’d been screaming for years. Yet, she didn’t talk much.</p> <p>Blinking oddly and opening and closing her mouth like a fish, she tilted her head before croaking out awfully. “The Spiders. You were talking about the Spiders.”</p> <p>The class laughed at her, cackling hyena snarls. Miss Taylor narrowed her slanted eyes. “Insolence! Of what Spiders? Spiders are fantasy- figments. Tales like unicorns and hippogriffs. This class does not teach unicorns and hippogriffs, and it does not teach Spiders. Open your book and read!”</p> <p>Miss Elgert, who’s first name was long and unpronounceable, drew a Spider on her hand in response.</p> <p>To her they were very real. Not just dangling in taunt from webs, but everywhere. They were sin, despair, fear. Gwenythiliandron Elgert had begun seeing them when she was five. At first, she was very frightened, as any child would be.</p> <p>But, since no adult saw her very-real terrors, she was mocked until she realised that there was no reason to speak about it, because she was a horrible little girl with a whore mother and eyes like bruises, and no one would believe her ever.</p> <p>“Tell me,” whispered a girl sitting next to her, whose face was sour but who wasn’t a lost cause like Gwen. “Are there any Spiders on me now?” she wiggled fine fingers, sneering up her sour little girl face.</p> <p>Gwen turned her dark, sunken eyes detachedly the girls face. A large, spindly legged Spider crawled out as she opened her mouth, scuttling it’s black legs over her face and around to the base of her neck. Gwen nodded. “On your neck.”</p> <p>A flash of panic crossed the girls face; she looked to her neck. But as there was nothing there to her, she sneered, then laughed.</p> <p>Gwen looked away, hoping she would disappear for infinity if she looked at the ceiling hard enough.</p> <p>Frequently she dreamt of her departure. The shadows in her mind would finally take her, their hands closing around her throat and gently placing themselves over her eyes, where she would sink down until there was nothing more in her disintegrating mind but an echo. Oblivion.<br/> They departed for recess, and dispersed out into the playground. Gwen stood at the edge of the playground, her gnarled toes kicked out of her two-sizes-too-small shoes, patchy and worn. She looked out on a forest, where grey pines stretched for miles into the sky. She imagined climbing them, the scratchy branches tearing through the papery pale skin on her arms. Blood, thick and black dripping down them as she reached the top and looked over the world at the people who’d ruined her.</p> <p>They were not allowed into the forest, and somehow people followed the rule. It seemed the kind of place that you might die in. And not in a thrilling sense. But in a sombre, fatal sense.</p> <p>The same instinctive logic that left Gwen friendless, fatherless, and futureless.</p> <p>Spiders crept at the forest edge, entangling themselves in the branches of trees. A fly flew into one, and the Spider running it pounced, sinking fangs into its neck and clicking its forelegs.</p> <p>Gwen took a few seconds, fancying herself the fly, and the world the Spider, and then turned to go back inside the school.</p> <p>The most Spider-ridden place was the run-down trailer-house just off County Lane. The mailbox was dented from an event involving drunken teenagers and a Chevy Traverse doing 80 on the town roads. The gutters were clogged, the vinyl siding falling off and chipped. The shutters hang barely onto rusty hinges.<br/> The front porch was covered from head to toe in cobwebs, and nearly black with squirming, writhing bundles of Spiders. Spiders liked fear, despair, anger, and sin.</p> <p>It should’ve been expected that the trailer home was where Gwenythiliandron would live. The porch steps creaked as she walked up them, and opened the door, which had long lost its ability to lock.</p> <p>Inside, lay a woman on the paisley couch, her blonde hair still clinging to a few curlers that she didn’t take out. A pair of rhinestones glitter off of sunglasses, which she might wear to pretend her eyes weren’t red and dilated, or perhaps she’d taken something that had made the light unbearable.</p> <p>A cigarette hung prettily from her cherry-red lips.</p> <p>“Hello Mam,” said Gwen, taking off her backpack and leaving it by the door. Her Mam snored, groaning. Leaning over, Gwen took the cigarette from her fingers, stubbing it and tossing it to the ashtray that had been nearly upended atop the side table. “It’s good to see you. I had a good day at school, so I’m going to make us dinner.”</p> <p>In her head, she calculated the amount of beer cans empty on the floor, and decided that the blonde woman would not be awake for at least six more hours.</p> <p>Dinner would be just for her tonight - toaster waffles and canned green beans, eaten on the couch next to her unconscious Mam as the telly flickered some documentary.</p> <p>Tonight, the only channels available were playing the news. It was a bad episode - a black widow skittered from the reporter's eye. Gwen didn’t know all the Spider’s meanings, but knew that meant cheating on someone. It was the first Spider she’d seen, from her father’s gnarled mouth.</p> <p>Grey widows always represented a sort of anxiety, and wolf Spiders were a sign of isolation and fear. After dinner, Gwen tried to sleep. Even in her dreams, Spiders would not escape her. She dreamt feverishly, of being caught in a dark hole, her mouth open in screaming when she awoke. She did not sleep for the rest of the night.</p> <hr/> <p>In the morning, Gwen’s mother had still not awoken. Her face was a bit paler than usual, though Gwen chalked it up to not having eaten more than smoke and whatever else she’d been taking. Her Mam had a car - a red Honda that was a tad buggish in Gwen’s opinion. Gwen wasn’t big enough to drive it though, so she walked to school, her falling-apart shoes hitting the driveway at 6:30 in the morning.</p> <p>She arrived early, as usual, and tried the door. It was unlocked. Her teachers found it unnerving, her habit of being in their classrooms before they had privy to settle in. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she was so horrid and hated. No one could do proper work when she was there, bruised black eyes staring at you with such a haunted look. Normally, she watched the Spiders crawl across Miss Taylor’s face. She had a good amount - the ones that lonely people bore, or people with that deep, unexplainable sadness that Gwen knew her mother had.</p> <p>Miss Taylor was not adulterous, Gwen knew, as there were no widows on her. Then again, Miss Taylor had no one to be adulterous to. You would think that eventually, Spiders would drop off you, falling to the floor as you moved on with life.</p> <p>This was not the case. Instead, they just multiplied, crawling forever over your skin until your face was a swampy mass of writhing legs. This morning, Miss Taylor was already there, Spiders gnawing at her neck and eyelids. Sometimes, Gwen had the sudden, horrible thought to take her Mam’s carving knife, and carve along the outline of her own purple-veined eyelids. They would then come off, and she’d lean forwards, as her eyes fell out of their sockets. Then, with the knife, she’d cut out the threads attaching them to her skull, and set them outside for wandering animals to eat.</p> <p>Then, she would stand in the mirror, not watching the blood dripped on her cheeks, or the Spiders that crawled out of the black, bloody sockets left behind. In fact, she would never see the Spiders again.</p> <p>In these visions, she always smiled at her unseen reflection. She imagined that with her eyes gone, with the Spiders gone from her sight, her curse would lift and she would put on her Mam’s shades and walk through the town, and everyone would stare and wonder who that beautiful girl with glowing gentle skin, glossy black hair in waves, and a brilliant smile was.</p> <p>“Stop staring at me like that, Miss Elgert, it’s horrid,” scolded Miss Taylor, frightened by Gwen’s pallid face as it stared gloomily at her. She thought the girl must be imagining her dead.</p> <p>“Sorry. I was thinking about my eyes,” replied Gwen, in her throaty, strangled voice.</p> <p>“Your eyes?” replied Miss Taylor incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Gwen bobbled her head in some sort of affirmative.</p> <p>“Of course. Your eyes,” said Miss Taylor, looking in disbelief at the dark, sunken orbs that resembled eyes only in that they saw and blinked slowly at everyone they stared at. “Vanity will be the death of your generation, you know,” she admonished, wondering how anyone could be vain about looking like that. Perhaps she was a fan of modern horror. Perhaps her parents left her to watch all sorts of unsuitable, profane movies, and she fancied herself a real-life Samara or Bloody Mary. One could never know.</p> <p>“I’m sorry,” said Gwen.</p> <p>“Go out to the playground where the other kids are waiting, for His sake.” Miss Taylor wondered why she’d never thought to send Gwen off before.</p> <p>“Okay,” said Gwen. She got up, her two-sizes-two-big sweater hanging over her hands, so she looked like a small ghost.<br/> No one was at the playground.</p> <p>It was cold, and very lonely. Like she’d entered a dimension where she was all alone, and no one would ever show up at the playground, because there was no one left to.</p> <p>All alone, the forest seemed tempting. The bits of faded twilight had left the trees looking a greyed greenish-blue.</p> <p>It still seemed the type of place you might die in, but Gwen was fine with that.</p> <p>She climbed up the iron chain fence, kicking off her shoes and letting her gnarled, calloused toes hook between the bars. They were cold, but she didn’t notice much. Dropping down, she let the pine needles dig into the underside of her feet. “Ow,” she said, listening to her voice be so small and ragged in the enormous forest.</p> <p>Gwen walked until she found the biggest tree - it stretched on and on, blue-grey-green branches covered in pine nettles above her. Touching the bark, Gwen began to climb. Slowly at first, then quickly, like in her fantasies. Her small hands latched onto the branches, pulling her onto them and hoisting her high, higher, up, farther, away and away into cold grey morning air.</p> <p>Eventually, she paused, leaning onto the branch and catching her breath. Closing those purple-veined eyelids.</p> <p>When she opened her eyes, something was choking her. Spiderwebs. She opened her eyes, and saw them - all around her, the Spiders had gathered, trapping her into the tree in a sort of bubble. Black and yellow orb weavers stretched their spindly legs out, like slots on a chain link fence.</p> <p>She was stuck.</p> <p>The morning air was foggy and dense.</p> <p>Looking between the webs, she glanced out at the view she’d always dreamed of. Her town in all its glory. She couldn’t help but find the tiny trailer where her Mam lay, not breathing. Gwen had noticed, after all.</p> <p>Yet even here, atop her world, she was stuck with them. Spiders had followed her to the tops of the trees.</p> <p>Crawling forwards, she set a hand against the fabric of the web. It was just strong enough that it took some force to break through. Enough to support her weight. It occurred to her for the first time that she’d never seen a Spider on herself.</p> <p>Certainly, she was sad and anxious. She couldn’t be above claiming Spiders, could she?</p> <p>Gwen imagined everyone she knew, the kids in her class and Miss Taylor and her Mam and her Father, without Spiders. It felt right. And then she imagined all of the Spiders disappearing. A world without them.</p> <p>A world where she was happy, and lovely.</p> <p>And it became quite apparent, she thought, as she leaned against the web prison. Opening her mouth, she whispered the words.</p> <p>“You’re not real.”</p> <p>The spiders, and all of their webs disappeared from under her fingers.</p> <p>Closing her eyes, she smiled, as her body pitched forwards, meeting the air like a kiss, as the town sped by her, closer and closer. A spider-free ground. She breathed in. She breathed out.</p> <p>And there was a crunch, as a small girl hit the forest floor.</p> <p>That evening, a hunter found what appeared to be a writhing black mass on the ground. He screamed, and phoned the police, who came and investigated.</p> <p>Below the strange creatures, who were spindly legged and something out of a horror story, was the body of a little girl. Her sleek black hair fell around her in a pile, and her soft eyelids were closed. Blood from tree branches slashed across her arms, and legs. Her eyes lay a few feet away, and were carried off by the putrid black creatures. “Spiders,” said a policeman. “My Mom used to tell me about things like these. They’re spiders.”</p> <p>The spiders scuttled off, in different directions. No one wanted to dare touch them. Later, a schoolteacher would identify the body reluctantly, as Gwenythiliandron Elgert. And in a week, the body of Judy Elgert would be found in her house, dead of alcohol poisoning.</p> <p>A funeral service was held two weeks later. The classroom was all quiet as they marched to the gym for a memorial service. On the way back, one girl screamed, and the class all stopped to check she was okay.</p> <p>On her arm, now skittering off her hand and onto the floor, was a fat black spider.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">~End~</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p>Did you enjoy this? Well, lucky for you, dear traveller - there's more! Come see it all on <a href="/dr-vikki-lost">my Author Page</a>. Art, tales, and links to cool things that are fun to click :) I am normal and trustworthy.</p> </blockquote> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/spiders-crawling-under-our-skin">spiders crawling under our skin</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/spiders-crawling-under-our-skin">https://scpwiki.com/spiders-crawling-under-our-skin</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > CONTENT WARNING: Spiders, eye/body horror, ugliness/unrealistic beauty standards, depression, addiction/implied overdose, death, bullying/gaslighting, child neglect. “Miss Elgert! Are you paying attention?” asked the teacher. She was very stern and pinched, lines etched into a taut mouth and a greying widow's peak. But, one could argue that the Teacher - Miss Taylor, was her name - had great right to be gnarled and horrible; she was quite old. Miss Elgert was eleven years of age, and had no such excuse. She was greatly intelligent, though in no way that could be quantified proper to the schooling system. Her tests came back marked with red, so she ought to be quite stupid they thought. She was a horrible girl, with black hair in clumps and tangles that fell down her back and in her face like vines. Her skin was gaunt and pale, and her eyes looked like bruises, with deep bags and purpled veins on the lids. Her lips were a faint blue, like she had been strangled, and her voice was hoarse, like she’d been screaming for years. Yet, she didn’t talk much. Blinking oddly and opening and closing her mouth like a fish, she tilted her head before croaking out awfully. “The Spiders. You were talking about the Spiders.” The class laughed at her, cackling hyena snarls. Miss Taylor narrowed her slanted eyes. “Insolence! Of what Spiders? Spiders are fantasy- figments. Tales like unicorns and hippogriffs. This class does not teach unicorns and hippogriffs, and it does not teach Spiders. Open your book and read!” Miss Elgert, who’s first name was long and unpronounceable, drew a Spider on her hand in response. To her they were very real. Not just dangling in taunt from webs, but everywhere. They were sin, despair, fear. Gwenythiliandron Elgert had begun seeing them when she was five. At first, she was very frightened, as any child would be. But, since no adult saw her very-real terrors, she was mocked until she realised that there was no reason to speak about it, because she was a horrible little girl with a whore mother and eyes like bruises, and no one would believe her ever. “Tell me,” whispered a girl sitting next to her, whose face was sour but who wasn’t a lost cause like Gwen. “Are there any Spiders on me now?” she wiggled fine fingers, sneering up her sour little girl face. Gwen turned her dark, sunken eyes detachedly the girls face. A large, spindly legged Spider crawled out as she opened her mouth, scuttling it’s black legs over her face and around to the base of her neck. Gwen nodded. “On your neck.” A flash of panic crossed the girls face; she looked to her neck. But as there was nothing there to her, she sneered, then laughed. Gwen looked away, hoping she would disappear for infinity if she looked at the ceiling hard enough. Frequently she dreamt of her departure. The shadows in her mind would finally take her, their hands closing around her throat and gently placing themselves over her eyes, where she would sink down until there was nothing more in her disintegrating mind but an echo. Oblivion. They departed for recess, and dispersed out into the playground. Gwen stood at the edge of the playground, her gnarled toes kicked out of her two-sizes-too-small shoes, patchy and worn. She looked out on a forest, where grey pines stretched for miles into the sky. She imagined climbing them, the scratchy branches tearing through the papery pale skin on her arms. Blood, thick and black dripping down them as she reached the top and looked over the world at the people who’d ruined her. They were not allowed into the forest, and somehow people followed the rule. It seemed the kind of place that you might die in. And not in a thrilling sense. But in a sombre, fatal sense. The same instinctive logic that left Gwen friendless, fatherless, and futureless. Spiders crept at the forest edge, entangling themselves in the branches of trees. A fly flew into one, and the Spider running it pounced, sinking fangs into its neck and clicking its forelegs. Gwen took a few seconds, fancying herself the fly, and the world the Spider, and then turned to go back inside the school. The most Spider-ridden place was the run-down trailer-house just off County Lane. The mailbox was dented from an event involving drunken teenagers and a Chevy Traverse doing 80 on the town roads. The gutters were clogged, the vinyl siding falling off and chipped. The shutters hang barely onto rusty hinges. The front porch was covered from head to toe in cobwebs, and nearly black with squirming, writhing bundles of Spiders. Spiders liked fear, despair, anger, and sin. It should’ve been expected that the trailer home was where Gwenythiliandron would live. The porch steps creaked as she walked up them, and opened the door, which had long lost its ability to lock. Inside, lay a woman on the paisley couch, her blonde hair still clinging to a few curlers that she didn’t take out. A pair of rhinestones glitter off of sunglasses, which she might wear to pretend her eyes weren’t red and dilated, or perhaps she’d taken something that had made the light unbearable. A cigarette hung prettily from her cherry-red lips. “Hello Mam,” said Gwen, taking off her backpack and leaving it by the door. Her Mam snored, groaning. Leaning over, Gwen took the cigarette from her fingers, stubbing it and tossing it to the ashtray that had been nearly upended atop the side table. “It’s good to see you. I had a good day at school, so I’m going to make us dinner.” In her head, she calculated the amount of beer cans empty on the floor, and decided that the blonde woman would not be awake for at least six more hours. Dinner would be just for her tonight - toaster waffles and canned green beans, eaten on the couch next to her unconscious Mam as the telly flickered some documentary. Tonight, the only channels available were playing the news. It was a bad episode - a black widow skittered from the reporter's eye. Gwen didn’t know all the Spider’s meanings, but knew that meant cheating on someone. It was the first Spider she’d seen, from her father’s gnarled mouth. Grey widows always represented a sort of anxiety, and wolf Spiders were a sign of isolation and fear. After dinner, Gwen tried to sleep. Even in her dreams, Spiders would not escape her. She dreamt feverishly, of being caught in a dark hole, her mouth open in screaming when she awoke. She did not sleep for the rest of the night. ------ In the morning, Gwen’s mother had still not awoken. Her face was a bit paler than usual, though Gwen chalked it up to not having eaten more than smoke and whatever else she’d been taking. Her Mam had a car - a red Honda that was a tad buggish in Gwen’s opinion. Gwen wasn’t big enough to drive it though, so she walked to school, her falling-apart shoes hitting the driveway at 6:30 in the morning. She arrived early, as usual, and tried the door. It was unlocked. Her teachers found it unnerving, her habit of being in their classrooms before they had privy to settle in. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she was so horrid and hated. No one could do proper work when she was there, bruised black eyes staring at you with such a haunted look. Normally, she watched the Spiders crawl across Miss Taylor’s face. She had a good amount - the ones that lonely people bore, or people with that deep, unexplainable sadness that Gwen knew her mother had. Miss Taylor was not adulterous, Gwen knew, as there were no widows on her. Then again, Miss Taylor had no one to be adulterous to. You would think that eventually, Spiders would drop off you, falling to the floor as you moved on with life. This was not the case. Instead, they just multiplied, crawling forever over your skin until your face was a swampy mass of writhing legs. This morning, Miss Taylor was already there, Spiders gnawing at her neck and eyelids. Sometimes, Gwen had the sudden, horrible thought to take her Mam’s carving knife, and carve along the outline of her own purple-veined eyelids. They would then come off, and she’d lean forwards, as her eyes fell out of their sockets. Then, with the knife, she’d cut out the threads attaching them to her skull, and set them outside for wandering animals to eat. Then, she would stand in the mirror, not watching the blood dripped on her cheeks, or the Spiders that crawled out of the black, bloody sockets left behind. In fact, she would never see the Spiders again. In these visions, she always smiled at her unseen reflection. She imagined that with her eyes gone, with the Spiders gone from her sight, her curse would lift and she would put on her Mam’s shades and walk through the town, and everyone would stare and wonder who that beautiful girl with glowing gentle skin, glossy black hair in waves, and a brilliant smile was. “Stop staring at me like that, Miss Elgert, it’s horrid,” scolded Miss Taylor, frightened by Gwen’s pallid face as it stared gloomily at her. She thought the girl must be imagining her dead. “Sorry. I was thinking about my eyes,” replied Gwen, in her throaty, strangled voice. “Your eyes?” replied Miss Taylor incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Gwen bobbled her head in some sort of affirmative. “Of course. Your eyes,” said Miss Taylor, looking in disbelief at the dark, sunken orbs that resembled eyes only in that they saw and blinked slowly at everyone they stared at. “Vanity will be the death of your generation, you know,” she admonished, wondering how anyone could be vain about looking like that. Perhaps she was a fan of modern horror. Perhaps her parents left her to watch all sorts of unsuitable, profane movies, and she fancied herself a real-life Samara or Bloody Mary. One could never know. “I’m sorry,” said Gwen. “Go out to the playground where the other kids are waiting, for His sake.” Miss Taylor wondered why she’d never thought to send Gwen off before. “Okay,” said Gwen. She got up, her two-sizes-two-big sweater hanging over her hands, so she looked like a small ghost. No one was at the playground. It was cold, and very lonely. Like she’d entered a dimension where she was all alone, and no one would ever show up at the playground, because there was no one left to. All alone, the forest seemed tempting. The bits of faded twilight had left the trees looking a greyed greenish-blue. It still seemed the type of place you might die in, but Gwen was fine with that. She climbed up the iron chain fence, kicking off her shoes and letting her gnarled, calloused toes hook between the bars. They were cold, but she didn’t notice much. Dropping down, she let the pine needles dig into the underside of her feet. “Ow,” she said, listening to her voice be so small and ragged in the enormous forest. Gwen walked until she found the biggest tree - it stretched on and on, blue-grey-green branches covered in pine nettles above her. Touching the bark, Gwen began to climb. Slowly at first, then quickly, like in her fantasies. Her small hands latched onto the branches, pulling her onto them and hoisting her high, higher, up, farther, away and away into cold grey morning air. Eventually, she paused, leaning onto the branch and catching her breath. Closing those purple-veined eyelids. When she opened her eyes, something was choking her. Spiderwebs. She opened her eyes, and saw them - all around her, the Spiders had gathered, trapping her into the tree in a sort of bubble. Black and yellow orb weavers stretched their spindly legs out, like slots on a chain link fence. She was stuck. The morning air was foggy and dense. Looking between the webs, she glanced out at the view she’d always dreamed of. Her town in all its glory. She couldn’t help but find the tiny trailer where her Mam lay, not breathing. Gwen had noticed, after all. Yet even here, atop her world, she was stuck with them. Spiders had followed her to the tops of the trees. Crawling forwards, she set a hand against the fabric of the web. It was just strong enough that it took some force to break through. Enough to support her weight. It occurred to her for the first time that she’d never seen a Spider on herself. Certainly, she was sad and anxious. She couldn’t be above claiming Spiders, could she? Gwen imagined everyone she knew, the kids in her class and Miss Taylor and her Mam and her Father, without Spiders. It felt right. And then she imagined all of the Spiders disappearing. A world without them. A world where she was happy, and lovely. And it became quite apparent, she thought, as she leaned against the web prison. Opening her mouth, she whispered the words. “You’re not real.” The spiders, and all of their webs disappeared from under her fingers. Closing her eyes, she smiled, as her body pitched forwards, meeting the air like a kiss, as the town sped by her, closer and closer. A spider-free ground. She breathed in. She breathed out. And there was a crunch, as a small girl hit the forest floor. That evening, a hunter found what appeared to be a writhing black mass on the ground. He screamed, and phoned the police, who came and investigated. Below the strange creatures, who were spindly legged and something out of a horror story, was the body of a little girl. Her sleek black hair fell around her in a pile, and her soft eyelids were closed. Blood from tree branches slashed across her arms, and legs. Her eyes lay a few feet away, and were carried off by the putrid black creatures. “Spiders,” said a policeman. “My Mom used to tell me about things like these. They’re spiders.” The spiders scuttled off, in different directions. No one wanted to dare touch them. Later, a schoolteacher would identify the body reluctantly, as Gwenythiliandron Elgert. And in a week, the body of Judy Elgert would be found in her house, dead of alcohol poisoning. A funeral service was held two weeks later. The classroom was all quiet as they marched to the gym for a memorial service. On the way back, one girl screamed, and the class all stopped to check she was okay. On her arm, now skittering off her hand and onto the floor, was a fat black spider. = ~End~ @@ @@ @@ @@ > Did you enjoy this? Well, lucky for you, dear traveller - there's more! Come see it all on [[[*dr vikki lost \| my Author Page]]]. Art, tales, and links to cool things that are fun to click :) I am normal and trustworthy. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Dr Vikki Lost]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-25T16:56:00	[ "_licensebox", "body-horror", "creepypasta", "horror", "tale" ]	spiders crawling under our skin - SCP Foundation	6	[ "dr-vikki-lost", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "creepy-pasta" ]	[]	1450943776	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spiders-crawling-under-our-skin
spooky-scary-sausages	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ahalloween/3&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="border:solid 2px #000000; background:#FFFFFF; padding:5px; margin-bottom:10px;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: black">NOTICE</span></span></h2> <p><span style="color: black">The following document was recovered from a magazine in a raid on a Stage 4 SCP-7978-B compound. Every part of the document is an ALPTRAUM-Class infohazard associated with <a href="/scp-7978">SCP-7978</a>. It is to be used <strong>only</strong> as a test for new methods to mitigate its effect.</span></p> </div> </div> <p>Whenever the air grows colder, a bizarre and beautiful miracle happens.</p> <p>The Lord in Heaven checks His magical thermometer. And if He deduces that this is the perfect air temperature to pass His judgment on trees, He descends from His celestial palace in an invisible chariot pulled by twelve invisible grandmothers. Riding throughout all of Europe and also Non-Europe, the Lord seeks out all the nasty deciduous trees who are still loafing about. He punishes them for being alive by painting their leaves Weaktree Colors and ripping them off.</p> <p>Delightfully, this also happens the beautiful, bountiful, and bulbous Eastern-European country of Sausagia. And when the leaves fall from the punished trees, the Sausagians joyfully gather the leaves up, compact them into jars, soak them with pork broth, sprinkle with yeast, and leave them in the cellar until they become delightfully refreshing leafovitsa brandy for the spring months.</p> <p>But one fall day in Sausagia was the most special of all. Yes, you Sausagians reading this, I'm taking about the most wonderful day of the year…</p> <p>Breeding Day! Yes, that special festival whereupon the nicest sausages in all the land are gathered into studding vats full of room-temperature lemon juice, which sends them into a reproductive frenzy. The sausages copulate furiously amongst themselves for <em>hours on end</em> until a bountiful crop of sneetlets<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> arises from the vat of their limp and withered forbears!</p> <p>But in the Year of our Forcemeat 2021, in the Sausagian capital of Kielslava, one breeding day was almost spoiled by a band of brutish invaders…</p> <hr/> <p>It all began at 5:30 PM, when everybody's hero, the Sausageboy, had just finished wrapping up his harvest of the new sneetlets. After he tucked the tiny sausages into bed in their tiny lead coffins, he sighed with greatest melancholy. This year's crop of sneetlets was anything but abundant.</p> <p>But not all was lost, for the cause of good Mr. Sausageboy's woes had a name and other contact information: the Kielslava City Council. <em>They</em> were the ones encouraging people to spay and neuter their sausages! The Sausageboy tried to warn them over and over that this would inevitably result in thin returns on Sausage Breeding Day.</p> <p>Once the Sausageboy had finished his duties for the evening, he surmised, he would send the city council a tally of this year's sausages, accompany it with a sternly-worded letter, and strangle them all with horse entrails.</p> <p>So began his chores. First of all, he called 911.</p> <p>"911, please state the nature of your emergency," said the stinky little operator.</p> <p>"I am indeed the Sausageboy," yodeled the Sausageboy.</p> <p>"Hmm, yes, that is very useful information. I owe you my life. As a reward, I will forward 400 JSD<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> to your account."</p> <p>"Yes yes yes that is a co-wrecked answer toward me, the call is very overed now, so remove your face from the telephone machine please. Goodbye noises!"</p> <p>The Sausageboy shrieked in unparalleled delight as he slammed the receiver back down. "Uy, uy, uy!" he squealed, because that's a very nice sound to make when you're happy. "Mister Sausage That I Have, remove your sorry haunches from my pocket, for I am having a wonderful news at you."</p> <p>He pulled Mister Sausage That I Have from his pocket.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup></p> <p>"Abuse noises," chortled the Sausageboy, giddily slapping his faithful kielbasa with a small pipe wrench. "Be forgiving of me, Mister Sausage That I Have, for I am very unable to put in a 'do not let out' box all of my joy and joyfulness, because I am going to be receiving of 400 JSD for being a saussy little gooder boy, agree with me immediately!"</p> <p>Mister Sausage That I Have Nodded, for that is what the wrist that held him commanded.</p> <p>"Yes yes very goodest opinions Mr. S-that-I-H, now, we must prance our footsies toward Father-Father-Father's bedroo-doir and furiously smacken upon his body parts with a stapler in celebratories."</p> <p>But scarcely before the Sausageboy could plap-plap a foot upon the sausagewood floor to get stapling, he heard the doorbell.</p> <p>"YOY-<em>YEEEE!"</em> said the doorbell.</p> <p>"Oh? I am doing a wondermysteries about whoever this could be at this elevenworth or whatever time it is," said the Sausageboy.</p> <p>So, with Mister Sausage in hand, he pranced on over to the foyer. He took a glance at the curious doorbell, wondering for a moment why the speaker system looked like a little girl who had been stapled to the ceiing with a T-shirt that read "I AM NOT A DOORBELL! I JUST WANT TO LOVE YOU!" for some reason. But his eyes had a way of playing tricks on him, so he ignored it.</p> <p>But as he opened the door, a chill wind cut through the Sausageboy's very soul. There, on the doorstep, stood three of the most disgusting little child-things that the Sausageboy had ever seen in his life.</p> <p>One was a girl dressed in a black witchperson's uniform. Her hat was nasty little cone with a brim wide enough to keep the rain away. Which doesn't sound too awful — until you realize that if anyone tries to plant any sausage trees in her eyes, they'll wither and die.</p> <p>Right next to her was a boy in a bat costume. He was a "Batted Man" of sorts, with a bat symbol on the chest and an assortment of superhero-like paraphernalia. For shame! Bats do not belong in the heroism industry! They belong in Sausagia's finest spicy five-rodent breakfast links!</p> <p>And if that weren't enough, the last boy was the worst of all — he was clad in a skull mask with a flowing black cloak obscuring the rest of him. A long scythe sat in his right hand. Yes, you heard me right, he was impersonating the Sausagian healthcare system! WITHOUT A LICENSE, no less!</p> <p>Any one of these fashion crimes would have been unforgivable enough to warrant 50 life sentences buried up to their necks in non-sausage things. But the Sausageboy figured it best to deal with one problem at a time.</p> <p>"Hello hello hello upon you," said the Sausageboy. "Kindly please to replace your stupid clothings with things that do not foopt my eyeballs with the tacit opinions they express by existing, yes yes?"</p> <p>That was what our hero <em>would</em> have said, if he weren't cruelly interrupted mid-sentence by three hideous words from three hideous mouths.</p> <p>"Trick or Treat!" said the horrible children, holding out pumpkin-shaped buckets.</p> <p>The Sausageboy blinked.</p> <p>The horrible children still stood there, buckets outstretched.</p> <p>The witch lowered her bucket. "…guys, I don't think he's got any candy."</p> <p>"SCOFF," cried the Sausageboy. "I am having of several candies, but this matter is as an unrelated thing to the point which is being why have you come to my HOUSE and PORCH and DOORSTEP dressed in clothes that make NOT-YOU-resembling affronts toward me?"</p> <p>The horrible children backed away a little, but not enough to sate our hero's sausageous indignation.</p> <p>In a vain attempt to pacify, the scythe-bearer pointed to Mister Sausage That I Have and said, "I like your hot dog."</p> <p>"DORG? Excusings you, Mister Sausage That I Have is NEVER and NOT EVER a puppings dorg?! OBVIOUSLY?! Do you hearing you him woofen-waff noises, does he rollings-upon-over and be-shit towards the floors of me?!"</p> <p>"Chill, dude, it's just Halloween," said the Batted Man.</p> <p>"WHAT THE FRANK IS A HALLOWED WENIS?!"</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc1"><span><em>One Lengthy Explanation of Halloween Later…</em></span></h3> </div> <p>When he was sure that the horrible children had finished their little lecture about the Hallowed Wenis, the Sausageboy paced back and forth in his backyard. He scratched his aching scalp with Mister Sausage That I Have.</p> <p>"So, allow me to straighten my get of this: the Hallowed Wenis is a Mister Day That Calendars Have, whereupon teensly little kidlings Froopty-flop about their streety-tread-ons, parading in clothings of people they are not and assuming very very falsified identifiers, extruding their ugly winter vegetable baskets toward the hand-givings of neighbored distributors, crying 'TREEKENTRAT, TREEKENTRAT, here is the ultimatum for you, you giving me candies or I giving of your house the covering of napkins for with to swab the anus,' and then you receive the candies or not, then you return home with several of acquisitions and NOBODY <em>TALKS <strong>ABOUT <span style="text-decoration: underline;">SAUSAGES?!"</span></strong></em></p> <p>With that last word, the Sausageboy extended his neck over the large pit he had bitten out of the ground a few minutes ago. The horrible children, tied together at the pit's nadir, looked up in great confusion and distress.</p> <p>The Batted Man replied, "I mean, yeah, that's pretty much what Halloween is… I think?"</p> <p>"YOU WILL NOW EXPLAIN HALLOWED WENIS'S THE LACK OF SAUSAGES AT MY EARS."</p> <p>"I mean, it's not <em>against the law</em> or anything to talk about sausages during Halloween, they're just… y'know…"</p> <p>"I KNOW OF WHAT?"</p> <p>"…not very spooky?'</p> <hr/> <p>Once the horrible children had been safely tucked into the pit with a nice cement blanket and made to take a forever nap, the Sausageboy wept bitterly through clenched teeth. He tried everything to stanch the overflowing rage and despair in his heart, but nothing granted him any comfort.</p> <p>He tried flossing Mister Sausage That I Have through both his nostrils while screaming the National Anthem of Sausagia.<sup></sup> Alas, his efforts were futile.</p> <p>He tried e-mailing death threats to the wife of his archnemesis, the Horribebble Berdus. Alas, he remembered at the last minute that the Horribebble Berdus didn't have a wife.</p> <p>He even tried forcing Father-Father-Father to stick his hand in a jar of hydrochloric acid again. Alas, his dear Papa's scream of gratitude no longer held any music in its cadence.</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;"> (Note: This is the anthem in question.)</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Everyone please rise...</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/spooky-scary-sausages/html/98bd9818a5917686d455edded3ffacbd75a71af2-20704923771409594639"></iframe></p> <blockquote> <p><em>Blessed Sausagia, unvisited by strife!</em><br/> <em>If you don't like sausages, go and sit on a knife.</em><br/> <em>We shall bite the sausage, we shall lick the sausage</em><br/> <em>take the sausage for a wife!</em><br/> <em>We shall drink the sausage, we shall choke on sausage</em><br/> <em>for the sausage is life.</em></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> <p>The poor Sausageboy gave way to deepest melancholy, playing depressing partitias and toccatas on the Sausorgan in his attic.</p> <p>"Pthpbh pbhbhth bphhth," said the pipes of the organ, for they were limp and moist sausages.</p> <p>"I am doing an agree with your counsel, Sausorgan," said the Sausageboy. "There is being only one of solutions for problem that which is this, here is mister plan that I made:</p> <ol> <li>I must packings the up of Mister Sausage that I Have for adventurings,</li> <li>Set off to find and locate and acquire and see this "Hallowed Wenis,"</li> <li>Write a list which is having a number four on it,</li> <li>Say "number four" with many much pronunciations so that it sounds like "noonmber phpforrrr" and scrunch my lippylips up greatly for to be-squinch my face raisinly,</li> <li>Admire the feeling of my lippenlaps losing several circulations from facial squanchings,</li> <li>Uy uy uy, how it tingles,</li> <li>And, finedly,</li> <li>MURDERSTROY THE HALLOWED WENIS!</li> </ol> <p>Uy-yeee, the enjoyment of this schematic be-purples my saussy duzhmerp!<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup>"</p> <p>So before the sun even began to set, our hero had strapped his trusty Sausage Cart to the nearest available donkey.</p> <p>"I am not a donkey," whined the accountant next door, who had been chained to the wagon's harness.</p> <p>"Incorrective!" spat the Sausageboy. "Move forward quickish at horizon, noble donkus! <em>Cruelty noises!"</em></p> <p>The Sausageboy slapped his naughty mule with Mister Sausage That I Have 67 times in the span of a single minute, and only then did the stubborn beast giddyup toward Kielslava's city limits. Even the Sausageboy had doubts about his persuasive abilities, but it certainly helped that he had tied a ten-pound dumbbell to the tip of his sausage.</p> <hr/> <p>Onward they galloped, far to the south of Kielslava, over hill and over dale, until they came to the parking lot of that noble public institution exclusive to Sausagia: the spankings factory. This was where all non-Sausageboy children went to school. All the way, the Sausageboy kept up the assault on his mule's backside.</p> <p>"Stop moving forward, silly donkus," quailed the Sausageboy, "for we have arrivedy-divedy-doo at our destined nation."</p> <p>But the mule would go no further, for his head had been smashed in from blunt force trauma for some reason.</p> <p>"You unmove regardless? Convenient!"</p> <p>He slinked forward giddilly across the corrugated steel floor to Spankings Distribution Room A868.</p> <p>The jolly schoolteacher, Mrs. Bludgeonshriek, was in her fifth hour of subjecting the second-year students' learning-haunches to open palms. Said palms were cleaved off the wrists of jolly handsgivesmen, jammed into 20-pounder naval cannons, and scattershot at children's posteriors at a range of fifty centimeters.</p> <p>"Hello hello hello at your face, saussy Sausageboy that you are," said Mrs. Bludgeonshriek. "How gooder of us to visitings our humble classed room on such a fined day!"</p> <p>"Shut your squealing maw please," said the Sausageboy.</p> <p>"Many thankshaving of you for saying the pleaseword, young and mighty Sausageboy. Have you come toward us for to receive education through the wonders of severe physical and psychological trauma? There is no better teachingsgiver, you knows!"</p> <p>"Polite refusal!" said the Sausageboy, defecating.</p> <p>"What a fine gift you have given upon my floor!" cried Mrs. Bludgeonshriek.</p> <p>"You are being welcome, now, Teachings-Wanch, she who knows all the know-things because she has to, I am ordering you to shove the following knowledge into my ears and rub and smanch and squoosh it all over my brain that I have: what is a Hallowed Wenis and how can I kill it?"</p> <p>"Huumm-mum-mum," groaned Mrs. Bludgeonshriek, thinking feverishly whilst scraping little scabs off the tip of her spearlike pointed chin. "That is one thing that the gift of getting hit a lot from me is forever unable to teach. However, I would ask the Weeshner Tribe of the next county over. Their wisdom thoroughly insquankable."</p> <p>"Thank thank thankings upon you, noble childs-foopter!" cried the Sausageboy. With that, our hero grabbed himself by his gangly neck and forward-passed himself out the window.</p> <hr/> <p>On he flew through the air, over the smog of cities and the mountain-smog of mountains, until he landed in the eastern deserts of Sausagia. That was where the Weeshnermen built their mud huts.</p> <p>Now, the Weeshner Tribe (That's <em>Uyshny Yurodovny</em> to the Old Sausievers) were the religious pillars of Sausagia. They were iron-hearted ascetics who gave up all worldly pleasures<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup> in pursuit of the greatest form of spiritual enlightenment: to one day have the shit beaten out of them for no reason by the Sausageboy.</p> <p>So the Sausageboy trekked through an ankle-high biofilm of various Weeshner acolytes' bodily fluids that dampened the sands. (Twelve of them exploded earlier; cleaning it up was a sin.) Emaciated and delirious Weeshners huddled over steel barrels, immersing their right arms in balsamic vinegar to marinate for later consumption. They mumbled prayers of verbal abuse toward the Sausageboy's enemies.</p> <p>The nameless chief guru of the Weeshners sat in meditation on a pile of decapitated tortoises. His beard was matted and filled with nervous wasps, his skin was smeared with charred processed goose, and his fingers had been deboned and braided together in a permanent gesture of deep thought.</p> <p>"Uy, so very wising," said the Sausageboy. "Chief guru that you are, most knowledge-having of all creatures in the Sausagia place, could you tell me immediately where I may find and foopt into obliviatings the Hallowed Wenis, do it do it?"</p> <p>The Weeshmaster opened his eyes for the first time in five years. Gazing upon his divine master, the Sausageboy, pride and euphoria filled his ancient, withered, pickled heart.</p> <p>"My master commands me, and I obey," said the Guru. "If you wish to destroy the Hallowed Wenis, the first thing you should do is — "</p> <p>"Shut up!" cried the Sausageboy — and with a firm and fearsome swing Mister Sausage That I Have, he struck the guru across the solar plexus and home-runned him into the motherfucking Sun.</p> <p>Our hero's gaze followed squinting behind the guru's silhouette flying into orbit.</p> <p>"Yes yes yes, he is very soon inside the Mr. Sun That We Have now," said the Sausageboy. Millions of people worldwide immediately thanked him for saying something very accurate.</p> <p>But his celebration was short-lived. He realized something awful: he had killed the guru before he could learn the Hallowed Weakness.</p> <p>"Oh, yuy!" warbled the Sausageboy. "How the evers could I have did and done such a horrid thing which I have done?"</p> <p>But our hero quickly remembered that he has never done anything wrong in his life, and his gaping, cavernous smile returned to his face at once.</p> <hr/> <p>It was then that a great idea occurred to the Sausageboy. If he couldn't learn how to murder an entire holiday in <em>his</em> world, what about the world of the author?</p> <p>Yes, the one one writing this story at this very wait a minute what the <em>fuck are you doing in my —</em></p> <p>jhkhjhj</p> <p>hhhjjhjj</p> <p>jhhjjhjhjhh</p> <p>hjhjjh</p> <p>PLEASE STOP HITTING MY HEAD AGAINST THE KEYB —</p> <p>jiodgh;s;i h</p> <p>;oiihk j</p> <p>IM SORRY</p> <p>kjlkj</p> <p>j;kjkj</p> <p>kj</p> <p><strong>WAIT!</strong></p> <p>Just… hear me out, okay? I had a concussion last year in a car accident. My doctor said that if I had one more, that would be the end of me. I'm pretty sure you just gave me nine. …I legit don't know how I'm alive right now.</p> <p>So can we maybe talk this out instead of having you just straight-up try to murder me right off the bat?</p> <p>Let's start over. Maybe introduce ourselves. My name's Dave. What's yours?</p> <p>…</p> <p>…he's just staring at me. Saying nothing.</p> <p>Not even blinking.</p> <p>Does he even blink? Can he <em>do</em> that? I don't even… when is he gonna leave? He smells like a combination of Chef Boyardee how and my beagle smelled after he got his anal glands expressed —</p> <p>Please don't touch the keyboard. I'll take out that comment about anal glands, just let me have the keyb<tt>delightful little sausages</tt> <strong><em>GIVE IT BACK!</em></strong></p> <p>…</p> <p>Okay…</p> <p><em>(Sigh.)</em></p> <p>If I Google maps the nearest Spirit Halloween for you, will you leave me alone?</p> <hr/> <p>So on our jolly and much-beloved little Sausageboy went, skipping gaily from the terrified author's living room, skipping rope with Mr. Sausage That I Have all the way.</p> <p>He sang a little song as he went: <em>"Deeeee-dootdedoo, I am doing a trespassing of a foreign territory, deeeee-dootdedoo, I am seconds away from assaulting strangers, deeeee-dootdedoo!"</em></p> <p>Finally, he made it to the strip mall where the horrible holiday that almost ruined Sausage Breeding Day kept its citadel: Spirit Halloween. With three mighty swingle-swangs of Mister Sausage That I Have, he smashed his way through the plate glass window next to the automatic door.</p> <p>"Oh thank God, a monster attack," said the underpaid college student behind the counter. "Excuse me, sausage monster, could you please beat me half to death or something? Then I could sue this place for not protecting me and be able to pay off my student debt."</p> <p>In his infinite mercy, the Sausageboy decided he'd beat everyone else half to death and spare the clerk.</p> <p>But first, our Sausagey crusader cried out to the rafters: "BE DYING, monster, you are not belonging inside this world that we have!"</p> <p>And before anyone could say anything, the plastic swords began to rattle in their umbrella stands. Shrink-wrapped bags of costumes flapped upon each other like leaves in the wind. The whole store began to rattle with unholy vigor. The air grew freezing cold and boiling hot all at once.</p> <p>And a strange voice echoed from behind the fluorescent lights…</p> <p><strong>"It was not by my hand that I am once again given retail space. I was called forth by consumers who wished to pay me capital!"</strong></p> <p>"Capitals?!" squealed the Sausageboy. "You are being stealing sausages probably, and also making them slaving creams of yours!"</p> <p><strong>"Perhaps the same could be said of all holidays."</strong></p> <p>"Your wordsayings is as emptied as your duzhmerp! Sausagekind illing needs a retail outlet such as the thing you are being!"</p> <p><strong><em>"What is a sausage?!"</em></strong></p> <p>Several plastic goblets fell from a shelf.</p> <p><strong>"A miserable little casing of <em>secrets!</em> But enough talk — have at you!"</strong></p> <p>But the greatest terror was yet to come.</p> <p>For just as the Sausageboy unsheathed the hidden sword within Mister Sausage That I Have — there, amidst the growling, howling, and other assorted spookery, he heard the spookiest noise of all…</p> <p>A familiar coo-cooing sound.</p> <p>A confused pigeon wandered through the hole in the glass window. Of course! It was the work of the Horribebble Berdus all along! Only a mind so dark and twisted as the Berdus could come up with such a non-sausage holiday as Halloween.</p> <p>The Sausageboy cursed under his breath. Through grit teeth, he prayed for strength from the Lord who Plucks the Naughty Leaves.</p> <p>Our hero's eyes glowed with fiery ambition. His eyes turned to the patch of think skin under which the Berdus always hid his carotid artery.</p> <p>The blade quivered in the Sausageboy's hand.</p> <p>He lunged…</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>TO BE CONTINUED…<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup></span></h1> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. (Scientific term for the larval stage of kielbasa.)</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. (Sausagian currency, short for "Jolly Sausage Dollars")</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. (Note: the Sausageboy's shirt has no pockets, but remember — he carved a skin-slit in the back of his right hand for which to fit useful objects inside [see "Acts of Bravery that the Sausageboy Has Rewarded Himself For," <em>It Is Indeed the Sausagezine</em>, Volume 12 Issue 148].)</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. (Duzhmerp — Pron. DOOZH-murp — Old High Sausagian noun. Loosest translation: "Heart, soul, and spleen." The most literal translation is too lengthy and vulgar to print and involves sewing needles, spiders, and bestiality — in that order.)</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. (<strong><em>EXCEPT</em> SAUSAGES.</strong> Don't panic, there is no way that anyone in their right mind would give up sausages.)</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. (Note from Researcher Daniels: The second part was non-anomalous. It was 15,300 words' worth of the protagonist killing and mutilating a pigeon in the middle of a costume shop, including onamotopoeia. It didn't even mention the Sausageboy, it was too busy to describe or name anything but animal cruelty. …I did not know it was possible to hate a pigeon this much.)</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/spooky-scary-sausages">Spooky Scary Sausages</a>" by daveyoufool, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/spooky-scary-sausages">https://scpwiki.com/spooky-scary-sausages</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> sausagiamap.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;"><img alt="daveyoufool" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2034230&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730240284" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2034230)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;">daveyoufool</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spooky-scary-sausages">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> sausagia.mp3<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;"><img alt="daveyoufool" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2034230&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730240284" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2034230)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/daveyoufool" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2034230); return false;">daveyoufool</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spooky-scary-sausages">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="/theme:halloween">theme:halloween</a>]] [[div style="border:solid 2px #000000; background:#FFFFFF; padding:5px; margin-bottom:10px;"]] [[=]] ++ ##black\|NOTICE## ##black\|The following document was recovered from a magazine in a raid on a Stage 4 SCP-7978-B compound. Every part of the document is an ALPTRAUM-Class infohazard associated with [[[SCP-7978]]]. It is to be used only as a test for new methods to mitigate its effect.## [[/=]] [[/div]] [[=]] [[image sausagiamap.png]] [[/=]] Whenever the air grows colder, a bizarre and beautiful miracle happens. The Lord in Heaven checks His magical thermometer. And if He deduces that this is the perfect air temperature to pass His judgment on trees, He descends from His celestial palace in an invisible chariot pulled by twelve invisible grandmothers. Riding throughout all of Europe and also Non-Europe, the Lord seeks out all the nasty deciduous trees who are still loafing about. He punishes them for being alive by painting their leaves Weaktree Colors and ripping them off. Delightfully, this also happens the beautiful, bountiful, and bulbous Eastern-European country of Sausagia. And when the leaves fall from the punished trees, the Sausagians joyfully gather the leaves up, compact them into jars, soak them with pork broth, sprinkle with yeast, and leave them in the cellar until they become delightfully refreshing leafovitsa brandy for the spring months. But one fall day in Sausagia was the most special of all. Yes, you Sausagians reading this, I'm taking about the most wonderful day of the year... Breeding Day! Yes, that special festival whereupon the nicest sausages in all the land are gathered into studding vats full of room-temperature lemon juice, which sends them into a reproductive frenzy. The sausages copulate furiously amongst themselves for //hours on end// until a bountiful crop of sneetlets [[footnote]](Scientific term for the larval stage of kielbasa.)[[/footnote]] arises from the vat of their limp and withered forbears! But in the Year of our Forcemeat 2021, in the Sausagian capital of Kielslava, one breeding day was almost spoiled by a band of brutish invaders... ------ It all began at 5:30 PM, when everybody's hero, the Sausageboy, had just finished wrapping up his harvest of the new sneetlets. After he tucked the tiny sausages into bed in their tiny lead coffins, he sighed with greatest melancholy. This year's crop of sneetlets was anything but abundant. But not all was lost, for the cause of good Mr. Sausageboy's woes had a name and other contact information: the Kielslava City Council. //They// were the ones encouraging people to spay and neuter their sausages! The Sausageboy tried to warn them over and over that this would inevitably result in thin returns on Sausage Breeding Day. Once the Sausageboy had finished his duties for the evening, he surmised, he would send the city council a tally of this year's sausages, accompany it with a sternly-worded letter, and strangle them all with horse entrails. So began his chores. First of all, he called 911. "911, please state the nature of your emergency," said the stinky little operator. "I am indeed the Sausageboy," yodeled the Sausageboy. "Hmm, yes, that is very useful information. I owe you my life. As a reward, I will forward 400 JSD [[footnote]](Sausagian currency, short for "Jolly Sausage Dollars")[[/footnote]] to your account." "Yes yes yes that is a co-wrecked answer toward me, the call is very overed now, so remove your face from the telephone machine please. Goodbye noises!" The Sausageboy shrieked in unparalleled delight as he slammed the receiver back down. "Uy, uy, uy!" he squealed, because that's a very nice sound to make when you're happy. "Mister Sausage That I Have, remove your sorry haunches from my pocket, for I am having a wonderful news at you." He pulled Mister Sausage That I Have from his pocket.[[footnote]](Note: the Sausageboy's shirt has no pockets, but remember -- he carved a skin-slit in the back of his right hand for which to fit useful objects inside [see "Acts of Bravery that the Sausageboy Has Rewarded Himself For," //It Is Indeed the Sausagezine//, Volume 12 Issue 148].)[[/footnote]] "Abuse noises," chortled the Sausageboy, giddily slapping his faithful kielbasa with a small pipe wrench. "Be forgiving of me, Mister Sausage That I Have, for I am very unable to put in a 'do not let out' box all of my joy and joyfulness, because I am going to be receiving of 400 JSD for being a saussy little gooder boy, agree with me immediately!" Mister Sausage That I Have Nodded, for that is what the wrist that held him commanded. "Yes yes very goodest opinions Mr. S-that-I-H, now, we must prance our footsies toward Father-Father-Father's bedroo-doir and furiously smacken upon his body parts with a stapler in celebratories." But scarcely before the Sausageboy could plap-plap a foot upon the sausagewood floor to get stapling, he heard the doorbell. "YOY-//YEEEE!"// said the doorbell. "Oh? I am doing a wondermysteries about whoever this could be at this elevenworth or whatever time it is," said the Sausageboy. So, with Mister Sausage in hand, he pranced on over to the foyer. He took a glance at the curious doorbell, wondering for a moment why the speaker system looked like a little girl who had been stapled to the ceiing with a T-shirt that read "I AM NOT A DOORBELL! I JUST WANT TO LOVE YOU!" for some reason. But his eyes had a way of playing tricks on him, so he ignored it. But as he opened the door, a chill wind cut through the Sausageboy's very soul. There, on the doorstep, stood three of the most disgusting little child-things that the Sausageboy had ever seen in his life. One was a girl dressed in a black witchperson's uniform. Her hat was nasty little cone with a brim wide enough to keep the rain away. Which doesn't sound too awful -- until you realize that if anyone tries to plant any sausage trees in her eyes, they'll wither and die. Right next to her was a boy in a bat costume. He was a "Batted Man" of sorts, with a bat symbol on the chest and an assortment of superhero-like paraphernalia. For shame! Bats do not belong in the heroism industry! They belong in Sausagia's finest spicy five-rodent breakfast links! And if that weren't enough, the last boy was the worst of all -- he was clad in a skull mask with a flowing black cloak obscuring the rest of him. A long scythe sat in his right hand. Yes, you heard me right, he was impersonating the Sausagian healthcare system! WITHOUT A LICENSE, no less! Any one of these fashion crimes would have been unforgivable enough to warrant 50 life sentences buried up to their necks in non-sausage things. But the Sausageboy figured it best to deal with one problem at a time. "Hello hello hello upon you," said the Sausageboy. "Kindly please to replace your stupid clothings with things that do not foopt my eyeballs with the tacit opinions they express by existing, yes yes?" That was what our hero //would// have said, if he weren't cruelly interrupted mid-sentence by three hideous words from three hideous mouths. "Trick or Treat!" said the horrible children, holding out pumpkin-shaped buckets. The Sausageboy blinked. The horrible children still stood there, buckets outstretched. The witch lowered her bucket. "...guys, I don't think he's got any candy." "SCOFF," cried the Sausageboy. "I am having of several candies, but this matter is as an unrelated thing to the point which is being why have you come to my HOUSE and PORCH and DOORSTEP dressed in clothes that make NOT-YOU-resembling affronts toward me?" The horrible children backed away a little, but not enough to sate our hero's sausageous indignation. In a vain attempt to pacify, the scythe-bearer pointed to Mister Sausage That I Have and said, "I like your hot dog." "DORG? Excusings you, Mister Sausage That I Have is NEVER and NOT EVER a puppings dorg?! OBVIOUSLY?! Do you hearing you him woofen-waff noises, does he rollings-upon-over and be-shit towards the floors of me?!" "Chill, dude, it's just Halloween," said the Batted Man. "WHAT THE FRANK IS A HALLOWED WENIS?!" [[=]] +++ //One Lengthy Explanation of Halloween Later...// [[/=]] When he was sure that the horrible children had finished their little lecture about the Hallowed Wenis, the Sausageboy paced back and forth in his backyard. He scratched his aching scalp with Mister Sausage That I Have. "So, allow me to straighten my get of this: the Hallowed Wenis is a Mister Day That Calendars Have, whereupon teensly little kidlings Froopty-flop about their streety-tread-ons, parading in clothings of people they are not and assuming very very falsified identifiers, extruding their ugly winter vegetable baskets toward the hand-givings of neighbored distributors, crying 'TREEKENTRAT, TREEKENTRAT, here is the ultimatum for you, you giving me candies or I giving of your house the covering of napkins for with to swab the anus,' and then you receive the candies or not, then you return home with several of acquisitions and NOBODY //TALKS ABOUT __SAUSAGES?!"__// With that last word, the Sausageboy extended his neck over the large pit he had bitten out of the ground a few minutes ago. The horrible children, tied together at the pit's nadir, looked up in great confusion and distress. The Batted Man replied, "I mean, yeah, that's pretty much what Halloween is... I think?" "YOU WILL NOW EXPLAIN HALLOWED WENIS'S THE LACK OF SAUSAGES AT MY EARS." "I mean, it's not //against the law// or anything to talk about sausages during Halloween, they're just... y'know..." "I KNOW OF WHAT?" "...not very spooky?' ------ Once the horrible children had been safely tucked into the pit with a nice cement blanket and made to take a forever nap, the Sausageboy wept bitterly through clenched teeth. He tried everything to stanch the overflowing rage and despair in his heart, but nothing granted him any comfort. He tried flossing Mister Sausage That I Have through both his nostrils while screaming the National Anthem of Sausagia.^^^^ Alas, his efforts were futile. He tried e-mailing death threats to the wife of his archnemesis, the Horribebble Berdus. Alas, he remembered at the last minute that the Horribebble Berdus didn't have a wife. He even tried forcing Father-Father-Father to stick his hand in a jar of hydrochloric acid again. Alas, his dear Papa's scream of gratitude no longer held any music in its cadence. [[collapsible show=" (Note: This is the anthem in question.)" hide="Everyone please rise..."]] [[include <a href="http://snippets.wikidot.com/html5player">:snippets:html5player</a> \| type=audio \| url=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/spooky-scary-sausages/sausagia.mp3]] > //Blessed Sausagia, unvisited by strife!// > //If you don't like sausages, go and sit on a knife.// > //We shall bite the sausage, we shall lick the sausage// > //take the sausage for a wife!// > //We shall drink the sausage, we shall choke on sausage// > //for the sausage is life.// [[/collapsible]] The poor Sausageboy gave way to deepest melancholy, playing depressing partitias and toccatas on the Sausorgan in his attic. "Pthpbh pbhbhth bphhth," said the pipes of the organ, for they were limp and moist sausages. "I am doing an agree with your counsel, Sausorgan," said the Sausageboy. "There is being only one of solutions for problem that which is this, here is mister plan that I made: # I must packings the up of Mister Sausage that I Have for adventurings, # Set off to find and locate and acquire and see this "Hallowed Wenis," # Write a list which is having a number four on it, # Say "number four" with many much pronunciations so that it sounds like "noonmber phpforrrr" and scrunch my lippylips up greatly for to be-squinch my face raisinly, # Admire the feeling of my lippenlaps losing several circulations from facial squanchings, # Uy uy uy, how it tingles, # And, finedly, # MURDERSTROY THE HALLOWED WENIS! Uy-yeee, the enjoyment of this schematic be-purples my saussy duzhmerp![[footnote]] (Duzhmerp -- Pron. DOOZH-murp -- Old High Sausagian noun. Loosest translation: "Heart, soul, and spleen." The most literal translation is too lengthy and vulgar to print and involves sewing needles, spiders, and bestiality -- in that order.)[[/footnote]]" So before the sun even began to set, our hero had strapped his trusty Sausage Cart to the nearest available donkey. "I am not a donkey," whined the accountant next door, who had been chained to the wagon's harness. "Incorrective!" spat the Sausageboy. "Move forward quickish at horizon, noble donkus! //Cruelty noises!"// The Sausageboy slapped his naughty mule with Mister Sausage That I Have 67 times in the span of a single minute, and only then did the stubborn beast giddyup toward Kielslava's city limits. Even the Sausageboy had doubts about his persuasive abilities, but it certainly helped that he had tied a ten-pound dumbbell to the tip of his sausage. ------ Onward they galloped, far to the south of Kielslava, over hill and over dale, until they came to the parking lot of that noble public institution exclusive to Sausagia: the spankings factory. This was where all non-Sausageboy children went to school. All the way, the Sausageboy kept up the assault on his mule's backside. "Stop moving forward, silly donkus," quailed the Sausageboy, "for we have arrivedy-divedy-doo at our destined nation." But the mule would go no further, for his head had been smashed in from blunt force trauma for some reason. "You unmove regardless? Convenient!" He slinked forward giddilly across the corrugated steel floor to Spankings Distribution Room A868. The jolly schoolteacher, Mrs. Bludgeonshriek, was in her fifth hour of subjecting the second-year students' learning-haunches to open palms. Said palms were cleaved off the wrists of jolly handsgivesmen, jammed into 20-pounder naval cannons, and scattershot at children's posteriors at a range of fifty centimeters. "Hello hello hello at your face, saussy Sausageboy that you are," said Mrs. Bludgeonshriek. "How gooder of us to visitings our humble classed room on such a fined day!" "Shut your squealing maw please," said the Sausageboy. "Many thankshaving of you for saying the pleaseword, young and mighty Sausageboy. Have you come toward us for to receive education through the wonders of severe physical and psychological trauma? There is no better teachingsgiver, you knows!" "Polite refusal!" said the Sausageboy, defecating. "What a fine gift you have given upon my floor!" cried Mrs. Bludgeonshriek. "You are being welcome, now, Teachings-Wanch, she who knows all the know-things because she has to, I am ordering you to shove the following knowledge into my ears and rub and smanch and squoosh it all over my brain that I have: what is a Hallowed Wenis and how can I kill it?" "Huumm-mum-mum," groaned Mrs. Bludgeonshriek, thinking feverishly whilst scraping little scabs off the tip of her spearlike pointed chin. "That is one thing that the gift of getting hit a lot from me is forever unable to teach. However, I would ask the Weeshner Tribe of the next county over. Their wisdom thoroughly insquankable." "Thank thank thankings upon you, noble childs-foopter!" cried the Sausageboy. With that, our hero grabbed himself by his gangly neck and forward-passed himself out the window. ------ On he flew through the air, over the smog of cities and the mountain-smog of mountains, until he landed in the eastern deserts of Sausagia. That was where the Weeshnermen built their mud huts. Now, the Weeshner Tribe (That's //Uyshny Yurodovny// to the Old Sausievers) were the religious pillars of Sausagia. They were iron-hearted ascetics who gave up all worldly pleasures[[footnote]] (//EXCEPT// SAUSAGES. Don't panic, there is no way that anyone in their right mind would give up sausages.) [[/footnote]] in pursuit of the greatest form of spiritual enlightenment: to one day have the shit beaten out of them for no reason by the Sausageboy. So the Sausageboy trekked through an ankle-high biofilm of various Weeshner acolytes' bodily fluids that dampened the sands. (Twelve of them exploded earlier; cleaning it up was a sin.) Emaciated and delirious Weeshners huddled over steel barrels, immersing their right arms in balsamic vinegar to marinate for later consumption. They mumbled prayers of verbal abuse toward the Sausageboy's enemies. The nameless chief guru of the Weeshners sat in meditation on a pile of decapitated tortoises. His beard was matted and filled with nervous wasps, his skin was smeared with charred processed goose, and his fingers had been deboned and braided together in a permanent gesture of deep thought. "Uy, so very wising," said the Sausageboy. "Chief guru that you are, most knowledge-having of all creatures in the Sausagia place, could you tell me immediately where I may find and foopt into obliviatings the Hallowed Wenis, do it do it?" The Weeshmaster opened his eyes for the first time in five years. Gazing upon his divine master, the Sausageboy, pride and euphoria filled his ancient, withered, pickled heart. "My master commands me, and I obey," said the Guru. "If you wish to destroy the Hallowed Wenis, the first thing you should do is -- " "Shut up!" cried the Sausageboy -- and with a firm and fearsome swing Mister Sausage That I Have, he struck the guru across the solar plexus and home-runned him into the motherfucking Sun. Our hero's gaze followed squinting behind the guru's silhouette flying into orbit. "Yes yes yes, he is very soon inside the Mr. Sun That We Have now," said the Sausageboy. Millions of people worldwide immediately thanked him for saying something very accurate. But his celebration was short-lived. He realized something awful: he had killed the guru before he could learn the Hallowed Weakness. "Oh, yuy!" warbled the Sausageboy. "How the evers could I have did and done such a horrid thing which I have done?" But our hero quickly remembered that he has never done anything wrong in his life, and his gaping, cavernous smile returned to his face at once. ------ It was then that a great idea occurred to the Sausageboy. If he couldn't learn how to murder an entire holiday in //his// world, what about the world of the author? Yes, the one one writing this story at this very wait a minute what the //fuck are you doing in my --// jhkhjhj hhhjjhjj jhhjjhjhjhh hjhjjh PLEASE STOP HITTING MY HEAD AGAINST THE KEYB -- jiodgh;s;i h ;oiihk j IM SORRY kjlkj j;kjkj kj WAIT! Just... hear me out, okay? I had a concussion last year in a car accident. My doctor said that if I had one more, that would be the end of me. I'm pretty sure you just gave me nine. ...I legit don't know how I'm alive right now. So can we maybe talk this out instead of having you just straight-up try to murder me right off the bat? Let's start over. Maybe introduce ourselves. My name's Dave. What's yours? ... ...he's just staring at me. Saying nothing. Not even blinking. Does he even blink? Can he //do// that? I don't even... when is he gonna leave? He smells like a combination of Chef Boyardee how and my beagle smelled after he got his anal glands expressed -- Please don't touch the keyboard. I'll take out that comment about anal glands, just let me have the keyb{{delightful little sausages}} //GIVE IT BACK!// ... Okay... //(Sigh.)// If I Google maps the nearest Spirit Halloween for you, will you leave me alone? ------ So on our jolly and much-beloved little Sausageboy went, skipping gaily from the terrified author's living room, skipping rope with Mr. Sausage That I Have all the way. He sang a little song as he went: //"Deeeee-dootdedoo, I am doing a trespassing of a foreign territory, deeeee-dootdedoo, I am seconds away from assaulting strangers, deeeee-dootdedoo!"// Finally, he made it to the strip mall where the horrible holiday that almost ruined Sausage Breeding Day kept its citadel: Spirit Halloween. With three mighty swingle-swangs of Mister Sausage That I Have, he smashed his way through the plate glass window next to the automatic door. "Oh thank God, a monster attack," said the underpaid college student behind the counter. "Excuse me, sausage monster, could you please beat me half to death or something? Then I could sue this place for not protecting me and be able to pay off my student debt." In his infinite mercy, the Sausageboy decided he'd beat everyone else half to death and spare the clerk. But first, our Sausagey crusader cried out to the rafters: "BE DYING, monster, you are not belonging inside this world that we have!" And before anyone could say anything, the plastic swords began to rattle in their umbrella stands. Shrink-wrapped bags of costumes flapped upon each other like leaves in the wind. The whole store began to rattle with unholy vigor. The air grew freezing cold and boiling hot all at once. And a strange voice echoed from behind the fluorescent lights... "It was not by my hand that I am once again given retail space. I was called forth by consumers who wished to pay me capital!" "Capitals?!" squealed the Sausageboy. "You are being stealing sausages probably, and also making them slaving creams of yours!" "Perhaps the same could be said of all holidays." "Your wordsayings is as emptied as your duzhmerp! Sausagekind illing needs a retail outlet such as the thing you are being!" //"What is a sausage?!"// Several plastic goblets fell from a shelf. "A miserable little casing of //secrets!// But enough talk -- have at you!" But the greatest terror was yet to come. For just as the Sausageboy unsheathed the hidden sword within Mister Sausage That I Have -- there, amidst the growling, howling, and other assorted spookery, he heard the spookiest noise of all... A familiar coo-cooing sound. A confused pigeon wandered through the hole in the glass window. Of course! It was the work of the Horribebble Berdus all along! Only a mind so dark and twisted as the Berdus could come up with such a non-sausage holiday as Halloween. The Sausageboy cursed under his breath. Through grit teeth, he prayed for strength from the Lord who Plucks the Naughty Leaves. Our hero's eyes glowed with fiery ambition. His eyes turned to the patch of think skin under which the Berdus always hid his carotid artery. The blade quivered in the Sausageboy's hand. He lunged... [[=]] + TO BE CONTINUED...[[footnote]] (Note from Researcher Daniels: The second part was non-anomalous. It was 15,300 words' worth of the protagonist killing and mutilating a pigeon in the middle of a costume shop, including onamotopoeia. It didn't even mention the Sausageboy, it was too busy to describe or name anything but animal cruelty. ...I did not know it was possible to hate a pigeon this much.)[[/footnote]] [[/=]] [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: sausagiamap.png > Author: [[user daveyoufool]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spooky-scary-sausages SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: sausagia.mp3 > Author: [[user daveyoufool]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spooky-scary-sausages SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-23T23:36:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "absurdism", "audio", "black-comedy", "comedy", "halloween", "illustrated", "tale" ]	Spooky Scary Sausages - SCP Foundation	14	[ "scp-7978", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1450920401	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spooky-scary-sausages
standing-on-the-shore-at-dusk	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ajust-girly-things/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Standing on the Shore at Dusk</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/notorteil" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7611098); return false;"><img alt="NotOrteil" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7611098&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043703" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7611098)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/notorteil" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7611098); return false;">NotOrteil</a></span></p> <hr/> <p>Content Warning for the Following: Gender Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, Homophobia, Transphobia, Mental Abuse, and Psychological Manipulation</p> <p>Language Warning: Mild swearing, use of the T-slur</p> <p>Views expressed by characters in this article are not indicative of the views of the Author, and should not be treated as such.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>A young person stood on the beach, skipping stones across the surface. The sun had started to set a few minutes ago. Or was it an hour? Two? A day? A month? Time was meaningless. Time was nothing. All that mattered was them. Their beauty. Their body. Their behavior. She was watching. She was always watching. They had to be nothing less than perfect.</p> <p>Somebody shuffled in the sand behind them, and the young person turned around. The figure in front of them was a tall woman, robed in starlight, with plenty of plump areas and curves. Not traditionally attractive, but beautiful nonetheless. The Watching Girl would hate her. She spoke in a soft voice, no more than a whisper.</p> <p>"Landon…. Landon. Come back to me."</p> <hr/> <p>Cora shot out of bed drenched in sweat. Another nightmare. Then she looked at her gross body, coated with that icky salty liquid. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. She composed herself and quickly strolled over to the shower. She made sure to use her lavender scented body wash, her <span style="color: #ff69b4">wonderfully pink conditioner</span>, and plenty of her sparkly shampoo. She had to stay beautiful. For her sister. For herself. For the future of womanhood.</p> <p>She stepped out of the shower and wrapped up her hair, and slipped on her bathrobe. Cora stopped in front of the mirror, and hit by massive wave of disbelief. This couldn't be her… could it? She looked… scared. Uncomfortable. No. That wasn't it. She just wasn't pretty enough. Not yet. She was stupid. Ugly. Fat. <em>Looks like I'll just need to increase my mice.</em> Cora sighed, before composing herself in a more lady-like manner. She picked out her clothes. A white sleeveless tank-top, a pink skirt, and a thin pastel pink jacket. After spending barely enough time on her hair and makeup (really, only an hour for both?), Cora headed downstairs where her sister was already awake, cooking breakfast. As always, Ella was acting the perfect housewife; her body pixie-like, and her manner composed. Even the way she breathed was feminine.</p> <p>"Good morning sis!" Ella called. She was dressed in a light blue sundress, decorated with sunflowers. Her hair was put up in a loose bun, and her makeup was immaculate.</p> <p>"Hi Ella," Cora half-grumbled.</p> <p>"Come on, don't be so unlady-like!" Her sister chided "You'll never find a husband with that attitude." No matter how many times Cora told her sister that she was only 14, she wouldn't be quiet about finding 'the one'. So she kept her mouth shut. Anyway, she had to find a husband. One day. For her parents. For herself. For the future of womanhood. She tried to change the subject.</p> <p>"What are you making?" Cora asked, trying to hide her annoyance. Her sister giggled.</p> <p>"Chester's favorite! Waffles, bacon, and home-made syrup!" Ella did a little twirl. Great. Chester was back.</p> <p>"Oh, he's back from his work trip?" Cora questioned, again, trying to hide her annoyance "I thought he wouldn't be back until Tuesday."</p> <p>"Yes!~" Ella sang. "Isn't that a treat!"</p> <p>It was most definitely not a treat. Cora hated her sister's husband. He was rude, annoying, crass, messy, and gross. But Ella loved him. So Cora had to too. Anyway, he let Ella take her in, so she owed him.</p> <p>"Alright," Cora walked over to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup. She reached inside the fridge and grabbed two <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ella-s-sickly-sweets">Mite Mice</a>, quickly swallowing them and washing it down with a mouthful of soy-milk vanilla frappucino. The mice started doing their work, and Cora shuddered. The little things were downright unsettling. How many was she at now? 40? 60? It still wasn't enough. Ella was always reminding her to take more. For her body. For herself. For the future of womanhood.</p> <p>"I'm headed back upstairs. See you after breakfast," Cora waved and headed back up stairs to write in her journal.</p> <p>"Alrighty, see ya Cora!" Ella said. Cora saw her nod in approvement. Another meal skipped, another pound lost.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">January 18th ♡</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="color: purple">Dear Diary,</span> <p><span style="color: purple">Hello, its me Cora. Its another day living with ella and chester. Another day without mum and dad. I miss them. But its just like sis tells me: "the only way to show mom and dad we love them is to love the gifts theyve given us". So, I wear the clothes she says they like. I put on the simle theyd want me too, and go on with my day.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">It's still not easy.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #44c04f">But anyway! Lets move on to the happy stuff! My vanilla frappachino I had for breakfast was WONDERFUL (soy milk, ofc), and ella seemed so happy with my weight today. If you can tell, I'm trying out my brand new markers ella bought me! No school today, with it being sunday and all. Soooo, I think Im going to go shopping! Ill buy me a new dress, some makeup, and maybe even a smoothie if I walk enough.</span></p> <p><span style="color: orange">Anyway, thats it for now!</span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: orange">Loved and Loving,</span></p> <h3 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: orange">Cora</span></span></h3> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Cora closed the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we">sparkly pink notebook</a> and put away her pens, figuring she'd be done for the day. What about a trip down memory lane? She opened the notebook back up, and flipped to a page from several days ago.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">January 5th ♡</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="color: purple">Dear Diary,</span> <p><span style="color: purple">Good morning! Cora here. I got plenty of sleep, and I'm excited for the day. Oh yeah, I didn't write yesterday. Silly me :p. So yesterdayyyy, Chester was away for work (again) so me and ella had a hallmark movie marathon! We baked some (sugar free) cookies, drank some hot cocoa, and hung out together. This was the best time me and ella had together since I moved in :3. Afterward we did the dishes together (still my least favorite chore) but it was better with her. Just like when we were kids. I miss those days</span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">Loved and Loving,</span></p> <h3 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: purple">Cora</span></span></h3> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>A wave of nostalgia hit Cora, and she smiled. That was a fun day. It brought back the better memories of her childhood, back when she and Ella still lived with mom and dad. She flipped a few days back.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">December 31st ♡</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="color: purple">Dear Diary,</span> <p><span style="color: purple">Happy New Years Eve!! Me and ella are going to a party! I'm going to wear a pretty cocktail dress, and do my hair all fancy, itll be a blast. And guess what? I heard KeeLee might be there! Oooh this is going to be a blast. I'll tell you all about it when we get back~</span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">Loved and Loving,</span></p> <h3 id="toc2"><span><span style="color: purple">Cora</span></span></h3> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">December 31st, Pt. 2</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="color: purple">Dear Diary,</span> <p><span style="color: purple">Hi. I'm back from the party. I guess this should be January 1st, its 2:43 in the morning, but who the fuck cares. Not me. I had… a relapse at the party. Ella says I started screaming about "fucking pink bullshit" and "rodents in my arms" and</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">sorry. this is hard for me.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">ella had to subdue me and give me some more of her medicine. i woke up, the ball had already dropped, and ella looked so disgusted. shes never looked at me like that before. ella said that keelee said that if i couldnt stop this nonsense, id… id be kicked out of jgt.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">and since ella promised to take me in as long as i try and get better</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">i wouldnt have a place to live. even if chester sucks ella is my sister and this is all i have i cant lose this</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">its late. i should go to bed.</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>No, no, no. This wasn't a happy memory. Cora didn't even remember the night in question until reading this. Odd. It was only a few days ago, wasn't it? She shook her head, and moved back a few more days. Cora needed some happy memories</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">December 7th</span></p> </div> <br/> <span style="color: purple">Dear Diary,</span> <p><span style="color: purple">Hello! And Merry Christmas! Cant you feel it? That christmastime magic in the air? The glittering snow. The dazzling christmas trees? Pink stockings over the fireplace? Its absolutely <span style="text-decoration: underline;">WONDERFUL</span>.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">I went shopping today and bought my christmas gifts! One for ella, one for chester, one for keelee (ella said she would deliver that one) and one for my friend Dana! heres what i got everyone:</span></p> <ul> <li><span style="color: purple">Ella: a wonderful sundress! it's a really pretty pastel blue with sunflowers all over it</span></li> <li><span style="color: purple">Chester: a football. I think he was a quarterback in college? he played some sport, anyway</span></li> <li><span style="color: purple">KeeLee: some rose-coconut infused perfume. I know it's not christmasy, but the brand was expensive, and this scent was on sale… dont let keelee know that though, hehehe</span></li> <li><span style="color: purple">Dana: a mug that says "Adolescent Human Female". One of ella's friends made it custom, so I know she'll love it!</span></li> </ul> <p><span style="color: purple">Anyway, I should probably lay down. Im feeling a little doozy, probably from all that walking.</span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">Loved and Loving,</span></p> <h3 id="toc3"><span><span style="color: purple">Cora</span></span></h3> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>There we go. That was a good memory, Cora thought. She wondered whatever happened to Dana, though. Cora stumbled. She had the worst headache for some reason, and she dropped the journal on the desk- a little too hard maybe, as a page fell out. Cora bent down and picked it up.</p> <p>"Cora, ready to go shopping?" Ella asked. Cora let a out a squeak, a turned around. Her sister was standing in her doorway. Was it 11 already?</p> <p>"Yeah," Cora managed. She folded up the piece of paper, slipped in her jacket pocket, and headed downstairs.</p> <p>The drive to the mall was uneventful. Chester drove them (Ella didn't even have her permit), and Cora didn't talk much. She was stuck in her head. <em>New Years Eve…</em> It couldn't have gone that poorly, could it? She barely even remembered it. No, she must have just been emotional in the moment and wrote it down wrong. Yes, that was it. Before Cora knew it, she and Ella were at the mall.</p> <p>"See ya soon, babe," Chester said in his 'dude-bro' voice. "You two have fun."</p> <p>"Of course honeybuns," Ella giggled.</p> <p>"Oh Yeah. Cora, here's a couple of bucks. Buy yourself a dress or something." Chester dropped a few wadded up dollar bills into Cora's hand. She grimaced, but accepted the sweaty pocket change.</p> <p>With that, Chester drove away in his truck with barely a wave. Ella either didn't notice or didn't care about her husbands lack of concern. "Come on! Lets go shopping!"</p> <p>The first shop they visited was one called "Paisley's Perfumes". Ella browsed, tried out a few of the sample puffs, and after heavy debate, went with a "Cherry Orchard Mist".</p> <p>"What do you think sis?" Ella asked, giving her a whiff of it. <em>What do i think? I think this smells disgusting and way too sweet, and somehow SMELLS like the color pink-</em> No. Perfume was good. Feminine. Cora got herself a bottle of "Liquid Sunshine", even though she didn't like it. No. She <span style="text-decoration: underline;">would</span> like it. For her future husband. For herself. For the future of womanhood.</p> <p>Next, they visited three separate clothing stores, before Ella finally settled on a new skirt and a couple of cute pastel tops. Cora just picked up an understated blouse. She had enough clothes, but Ella was always making sure she expanded her wardrobe. Cora wasn't sure she'd ever saw Ella wear the same outfit twice.</p> <p>Cora's eyes were stolen by a large red and yellow sign. The LEGO store. She would always beg their parents to take them there as kid. She turned to Ella with a hopefully gleam in her eyes. Cora's dreams were quickly crushed.</p> <p>"Don't even think about it." Ella stuck her nose up in the air and picked up the pace. Oh, right. Legos were too 'boyish' for her sister. No. For a real woman. She shouldn't have even thought about it. Fuck.</p> <p>"Cora, I gotta run in and grab a couple of baking supplies." Ella had stopped outside a small, non-descript store called <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ambrose-restaurant-hub">Amby's Baking Supplies</a>. "Watch my stuff for me?" It was barely a question. Cora nodded, and Ella left. She reached into her pocket to grab her phone - maybe talk to the JGT gals for a minute while Ella was gone - and the piece of paper from earlier fell out. Her curiosity getting the best of her, Cora unopened it and began reading.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="color: purple">October 2nd</span></p> </div> <p><span style="color: purple">I don't have much time. Hi. If I drew the shit correctly, only I should be able to read this. Hello. Its me. Well, you. You from the past. You don't remember much because of that shit ella has been scrubbing your brain with, but this should prevent that. Your name is LANDON, not Cora. You are a transmasculine teenager, living with your manipulative and controlling older sister and her idiot of a husband.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">Your sister, ella, is with a group called jgt, and shes trying to brainwash you. Trying to make you believe youre somebody your not. Trying to make you accept "the divine order of feminity" by shoving you full of chemicals and brain worms and who knows what the fuck else.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple">Nothing is safe. not your journals, not your phone, not your friends. or the friends ella hasn't driven away, or me with listening to her brain washer. Kai, ollie, sylvia, frank, allison… dana will be next. dont forget who you are. you are a wonderful intellegent strong perfect boy. dont let that abusive fuckhole tell you otherwise. id advise you to keep this paper. no need to burn it, the back is covered in some sort symbols i riffed from the jgt blog code, tweaked a bit so ella chester or anyone from the damn site sees it as blank. write anything you need to tell yourself here, and hide it away in your journal. whatever you do, DONT TELL ELLA.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">October 29:</span> the mice dissolve from saltwater. ella doesnt keep much salt in the house, i bet she knows. mix salt you can with tap water, not purified.</span></p> <p><span style="color: purple"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">November 8:</span> ella has a couple of sports bras for sleeping. we can use one of those to make a binder. Ive put one in the mattress.</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Cora(?) nearly dropped the paper in shock. Disgust? They didn't know what they felt. No. What was she thinking. <span style="text-decoration: underline;">She</span> didn't know what <span style="text-decoration: underline;">she</span> felt. She wasn't a fucking tranny. But the note… it felt so REAL, so RIGHT, It was who THEY WERE. But. It couldn't be. Landon (Cora?) nearly leaped out of their skirt when they heard Ella's voice.</p> <p>"Hello, sister dearest" She said in a mock posh voice. Cora's (Landon's?) crawled at the term 'sister'. How hadn't they realized until now how much they hated it?</p> <p>"Hey," They managed, trying to shove the paper into their pocket inconspicuously.</p> <p>"What's that?" Ella's eyes narrowed, all pretense of happy shopping times over. Ella's sibling panicked.</p> <p>"A blank piece of paper," They stammered. Ella snatched it and stared at it. The teenager's heart raced. How would they explain it? Tell the truth? Fuck, they didn't even know what the truth was. Their sister looked at it for 10 seconds. 20 seconds. 30 seconds. Then she shrugged.</p> <p>"Alrighty. We should probably get going, my beautiful Chester will probably be worried SICK about us." With that, Ella handed back the paper. Cora, or Landon, or whoever they were couldn't believe their luck.</p> <hr/> <p>"Coraaaa, its time for dinner!" Ella called. Her little sibling trudged downstairs, stuck in her thoughts. Chester and Ella were seated at the opposite end of the dinner table. Chester's plate was piled high with pork, mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus, baked beans, and a bratwurst. Cora, however, had been given what Ella called their "lady plates", a small pink plate, with some of the skimpier asparagus, a measly scoop of potatoes, and a glass of milk. Cora recoiled in disgust. Why was she so upset about this today? She usually didn't mind, or even was grateful of Ella for slimming her portions.</p> <p>It was that damn note, wasn't it. Putting these unlady-like thoughts in her head. She reached forward for her glass of milk, when Ella made a squeak.</p> <p>"I almost forgot! Here's your diet pills hon," Ella pushed a small platter across the table.</p> <p>"Yeah," Chester added vacantly. "Eat those things like candy, and you might end up as pretty as your sister one day." Those vile, disgusting, little white pills. Without thinking, Cora slipped the pills under their tongue and took a swig of milk. That was enough to convenience Ella. Cora had been nothing but a good little girl. God no, she hated that ter- <em>What are you thinking you fucking shit. You are a girl, take your goddamn pills.</em> No. No, Cora/Landon/Whoever the fuck was done with this shit. Done with putting on a pink little mask for her sister and her husband. Without a word, they scarfed up their plate, put it in the sink, and headed up to their room.</p> <p>"That wasn't very feminine of you," Ella scolded. Cora/Landon's face twitched, but they pretended not to hear. As soon as they got upstairs, they flushed the pills down the toilet, had a big glass of salted water, and put on the binder tucked away under their mattress (which they somehow knew how to do perfectly). Taking a deep breath, they locked their door and wrote a little entry on a piece of paper that wasn't really blank.</p> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: purple"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">January 18th:</span> cheek your pills, Ella won't notice</span></p> </blockquote> <p>That night, Landon remembered. The memories came rushing back, whether he wanted them to or not. Yes. Landon felt right. Landon was his name. He was a boy, despite the circumstances of his birth.</p> <p><em>A child, no more than 8 or 9, sits at the kitchen table, drawing on a piece of notebook paper. They sketch in blue and orange and red, but never pink, while their older sister stares in disgust.</em><br/> <em>"Whatcha got there spud?" A man that must be their father asks. They look up.</em><br/> <em>"A dinosaur! We talked about them with Mrs. Merriwether today." The child's mannerism betrays their feminine voice. "I wanna be a pale-e-n-tol-o-gist when I grow up." They were clearly very proud at pronouncing that word. Their sister groaned.</em><br/> <em>"Cora! You're a girl, girls don't dig around in the dirt for bones."</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>The same child, now recognizable as Landon, sits at their middle school graduation. They don't wear a dress, but instead, a suit. He stands with his parents, while his sister, arm in arm with her fiancee, watches with a venomous look.</em><br/> <em>"Wright, Landon. Please rise." The announcer's voice echoed across the auditorium. Ella made a noise of disgust and dragged her fiancee out of the room. The proud smile on Landon's face fades as he notices his sister's departure, and tears begin to coat his eyes.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Landon, now around 12, maybe 13, stood in a ceremony. The tombstone in front of him read: "Mr. and Mrs. [Wright]".</em><br/> <em>"You did this, you ungrateful little shit. You poisoned them, caused them to end up this way. Why? Because you wanted to wear a suit and tie? You disgust me." Ella's voice was a torrent of rage, hatred, and disgust. She slapped her little brother, knocking him onto the muddy, snowy ground, before stomping away.</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>"Alright, you want to get out of foster care? Fine, I'll take you in." Ella's voice was calm and composed, but Landon could hear the steel behind it. "On one condition. You give up this act… and join a little group of mine. We'll help you recover."</em><br/> <em>He didn't have any choice. "I… I guess." To his suprise, Ella hugs him.</em><br/> <em>"You'll be eager for it soon, once you realize what you've left behind." She pulls out a small piece of paper out of her pocket, and unfolds it. "Here… let me show you." Foolishly, Landon glanced at it. With a screech of pain, he fell on the ground and began twitching.</em><br/> <em>"Needs more work." Ella stood up, "You'll thank me soon, Cora."</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Dana threw the mug on the ground, watching the ceramic shatter to pieces. "I'm sick and tired of this BULLSHIT, Cora! I was fine with your detransition! You can be who you want to be, even if I'm still damn sure your sister has something to do with it! But this? I'm fed up with all this TERF-y bullshit. Goodbye Cora. You've lost your only friend." With that, Dana strolled away, her platform shoes echoing down the hallway. Landon started to cry.</em></p> <hr/> <p>A young person stood on the beach, skipping stones across the surface. The sun had started to set a few minutes ago. It might have been longer, but did they really care? They had a lot on their minds. Swirling questions of identity and gender and it meant to be a man or a woman or a person. But skipping the stones helped them. It was a nice feeling of familiarity, of consistency. Something they understood.</p> <p>"Hello there, dearest." The woman clothed in starlight had returned.</p> <p>"Who… who are you?" The young person asked. "Who am I? What is this? What's going on?"</p> <p>"Those are quite the questions…" The woman smiled. "Well, who am I? A friend in high places. Who are you? Well, when I met you, you were a young man named Landon. As for who you are now… only you can answer that."</p> <p>"That… doesn't really answer my question."</p> <p>"Few of the answers we get in life truly do."</p> <p>With that, the star-robed woman vanished, leaving Landon more confused than ever, standing all alone between a land of unknowns and a sea of hatred.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/standing-on-the-shore-at-dusk">Standing On The Shore At Dusk</a>" by NotOrteil, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/standing-on-the-shore-at-dusk">https://scpwiki.com/standing-on-the-shore-at-dusk</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:just-girly-things">:scp-wiki:theme:just-girly-things</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Standing on the Shore at Dusk Author: [[user NotOrteil]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:more">:scp-wiki:info:more</a>]] Content Warning for the Following: Gender Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, Homophobia, Transphobia, Mental Abuse, and Psychological Manipulation Language Warning: Mild swearing, use of the T-slur Views expressed by characters in this article are not indicative of the views of the Author, and should not be treated as such. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] @@ @@ A young person stood on the beach, skipping stones across the surface. The sun had started to set a few minutes ago. Or was it an hour? Two? A day? A month? Time was meaningless. Time was nothing. All that mattered was them. Their beauty. Their body. Their behavior. She was watching. She was always watching. They had to be nothing less than perfect. Somebody shuffled in the sand behind them, and the young person turned around. The figure in front of them was a tall woman, robed in starlight, with plenty of plump areas and curves. Not traditionally attractive, but beautiful nonetheless. The Watching Girl would hate her. She spoke in a soft voice, no more than a whisper. "Landon.... Landon. Come back to me." ----- Cora shot out of bed drenched in sweat. Another nightmare. Then she looked at her gross body, coated with that icky salty liquid. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. She composed herself and quickly strolled over to the shower. She made sure to use her lavender scented body wash, her ##FF69B4\| wonderfully pink conditioner##, and plenty of her sparkly shampoo. She had to stay beautiful. For her sister. For herself. For the future of womanhood. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped up her hair, and slipped on her bathrobe. Cora stopped in front of the mirror, and hit by massive wave of disbelief. This couldn't be her... could it? She looked... scared. Uncomfortable. No. That wasn't it. She just wasn't pretty enough. Not yet. She was stupid. Ugly. Fat. //Looks like I'll just need to increase my mice.// Cora sighed, before composing herself in a more lady-like manner. She picked out her clothes. A white sleeveless tank-top, a pink skirt, and a thin pastel pink jacket. After spending barely enough time on her hair and makeup (really, only an hour for both?), Cora headed downstairs where her sister was already awake, cooking breakfast. As always, Ella was acting the perfect housewife; her body pixie-like, and her manner composed. Even the way she breathed was feminine. "Good morning sis!" Ella called. She was dressed in a light blue sundress, decorated with sunflowers. Her hair was put up in a loose bun, and her makeup was immaculate. "Hi Ella," Cora half-grumbled. "Come on, don't be so unlady-like!" Her sister chided "You'll never find a husband with that attitude." No matter how many times Cora told her sister that she was only 14, she wouldn't be quiet about finding 'the one'. So she kept her mouth shut. Anyway, she had to find a husband. One day. For her parents. For herself. For the future of womanhood. She tried to change the subject. "What are you making?" Cora asked, trying to hide her annoyance. Her sister giggled. "Chester's favorite! Waffles, bacon, and home-made syrup!" Ella did a little twirl. Great. Chester was back. "Oh, he's back from his work trip?" Cora questioned, again, trying to hide her annoyance "I thought he wouldn't be back until Tuesday." "Yes!~" Ella sang. "Isn't that a treat!" It was most definitely not a treat. Cora hated her sister's husband. He was rude, annoying, crass, messy, and gross. But Ella loved him. So Cora had to too. Anyway, he let Ella take her in, so she owed him. "Alright," Cora walked over to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup. She reached inside the fridge and grabbed two [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ella-s-sickly-sweets Mite Mice], quickly swallowing them and washing it down with a mouthful of soy-milk vanilla frappucino. The mice started doing their work, and Cora shuddered. The little things were downright unsettling. How many was she at now? 40? 60? It still wasn't enough. Ella was always reminding her to take more. For her body. For herself. For the future of womanhood. "I'm headed back upstairs. See you after breakfast," Cora waved and headed back up stairs to write in her journal. "Alrighty, see ya Cora!" Ella said. Cora saw her nod in approvement. Another meal skipped, another pound lost. [[div class="blockquote"]] [[>]] ##purple \| January 18th ♡## [[/>]] ##purple \|Dear Diary,## ##purple\| Hello, its me Cora. Its another day living with ella and chester. Another day without mum and dad. I miss them. But its just like sis tells me: "the only way to show mom and dad we love them is to love the gifts theyve given us". So, I wear the clothes she says they like. I put on the simle theyd want me too, and go on with my day.## ##Purple \|It's still not easy.## ###44C04F \|But anyway! Lets move on to the happy stuff! My vanilla frappachino I had for breakfast was WONDERFUL (soy milk, ofc), and ella seemed so happy with my weight today. If you can tell, I'm trying out my brand new markers ella bought me! No school today, with it being sunday and all. Soooo, I think Im going to go shopping! Ill buy me a new dress, some makeup, and maybe even a smoothie if I walk enough.## ##orange\| Anyway, thats it for now!## [[>]] ##orange\| Loved and Loving,## +++ ##orange\| Cora## [[/>]] [[/div]] @@ @@ Cora closed the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we sparkly pink notebook] and put away her pens, figuring she'd be done for the day. What about a trip down memory lane? She opened the notebook back up, and flipped to a page from several days ago. @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[>]] ##purple \| January 5th ♡## [[/>]] ##purple \|Dear Diary,## ##purple \| Good morning! Cora here. I got plenty of sleep, and I'm excited for the day. Oh yeah, I didn't write yesterday. Silly me :p. So yesterdayyyy, Chester was away for work (again) so me and ella had a hallmark movie marathon! We baked some (sugar free) cookies, drank some hot cocoa, and hung out together. This was the best time me and ella had together since I moved in :3. Afterward we did the dishes together (still my least favorite chore) but it was better with her. Just like when we were kids. I miss those days## [[>]] ##purple \| Loved and Loving,## +++ ##purple \|Cora## [[/>]] [[/div]] @@ @@ A wave of nostalgia hit Cora, and she smiled. That was a fun day. It brought back the better memories of her childhood, back when she and Ella still lived with mom and dad. She flipped a few days back. @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[>]] ##purple \| December 31st ♡## [[/>]] ##purple \|Dear Diary,## ##purple \|Happy New Years Eve!! Me and ella are going to a party! I'm going to wear a pretty cocktail dress, and do my hair all fancy, itll be a blast. And guess what? I heard KeeLee might be there! Oooh this is going to be a blast. I'll tell you all about it when we get back~## [[>]] ##purple \| Loved and Loving,## +++ ##purple \|Cora## [[/>]] ----- [[>]] ##purple \| December 31st, Pt. 2## [[/>]] ##purple \|Dear Diary,## ##purple\| Hi. I'm back from the party. I guess this should be January 1st, its 2:43 in the morning, but who the fuck cares. Not me. I had... a relapse at the party. Ella says I started screaming about "fucking pink bullshit" and "rodents in my arms" and## ##purple\| sorry. this is hard for me.## ## purple\| ella had to subdue me and give me some more of her medicine. i woke up, the ball had already dropped, and ella looked so disgusted. shes never looked at me like that before. ella said that keelee said that if i couldnt stop this nonsense, id... id be kicked out of jgt.## ##purple\|and since ella promised to take me in as long as i try and get better## ##purple\|i wouldnt have a place to live. even if chester sucks ella is my sister and this is all i have i cant lose this## ##purple\|its late. i should go to bed.## [[/div]] @@ @@ No, no, no. This wasn't a happy memory. Cora didn't even remember the night in question until reading this. Odd. It was only a few days ago, wasn't it? She shook her head, and moved back a few more days. Cora needed some happy memories @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] [[>]] ##purple\| December 7th## [[/>]] ##purple\| Dear Diary,## ##purple\| Hello! And Merry Christmas! Cant you feel it? That christmastime magic in the air? The glittering snow. The dazzling christmas trees? Pink stockings over the fireplace? Its absolutely __WONDERFUL__.## ##purple\| I went shopping today and bought my christmas gifts! One for ella, one for chester, one for keelee (ella said she would deliver that one) and one for my friend Dana! heres what i got everyone:## ##purple\|Ella: a wonderful sundress! it's a really pretty pastel blue with sunflowers all over it## * ##purple\|Chester: a football. I think he was a quarterback in college? he played some sport, anyway## * ##purple\|KeeLee: some rose-coconut infused perfume. I know it's not christmasy, but the brand was expensive, and this scent was on sale... dont let keelee know that though, hehehe## * ##purple\|Dana: a mug that says "Adolescent Human Female". One of ella's friends made it custom, so I know she'll love it!## ##purple\| Anyway, I should probably lay down. Im feeling a little doozy, probably from all that walking.## [[>]] ##purple\|Loved and Loving,## +++ ##purple\|Cora## [[/>]] [[/div]] @@ @@ There we go. That was a good memory, Cora thought. She wondered whatever happened to Dana, though. Cora stumbled. She had the worst headache for some reason, and she dropped the journal on the desk- a little too hard maybe, as a page fell out. Cora bent down and picked it up. "Cora, ready to go shopping?" Ella asked. Cora let a out a squeak, a turned around. Her sister was standing in her doorway. Was it 11 already? "Yeah," Cora managed. She folded up the piece of paper, slipped in her jacket pocket, and headed downstairs. The drive to the mall was uneventful. Chester drove them (Ella didn't even have her permit), and Cora didn't talk much. She was stuck in her head. //New Years Eve...// It couldn't have gone that poorly, could it? She barely even remembered it. No, she must have just been emotional in the moment and wrote it down wrong. Yes, that was it. Before Cora knew it, she and Ella were at the mall. "See ya soon, babe," Chester said in his 'dude-bro' voice. "You two have fun." "Of course honeybuns," Ella giggled. "Oh Yeah. Cora, here's a couple of bucks. Buy yourself a dress or something." Chester dropped a few wadded up dollar bills into Cora's hand. She grimaced, but accepted the sweaty pocket change. With that, Chester drove away in his truck with barely a wave. Ella either didn't notice or didn't care about her husbands lack of concern. "Come on! Lets go shopping!" The first shop they visited was one called "Paisley's Perfumes". Ella browsed, tried out a few of the sample puffs, and after heavy debate, went with a "Cherry Orchard Mist". "What do you think sis?" Ella asked, giving her a whiff of it. //What do i think? I think this smells disgusting and way too sweet, and somehow SMELLS like the color pink-// No. Perfume was good. Feminine. Cora got herself a bottle of "Liquid Sunshine", even though she didn't like it. No. She __would__ like it. For her future husband. For herself. For the future of womanhood. Next, they visited three separate clothing stores, before Ella finally settled on a new skirt and a couple of cute pastel tops. Cora just picked up an understated blouse. She had enough clothes, but Ella was always making sure she expanded her wardrobe. Cora wasn't sure she'd ever saw Ella wear the same outfit twice. Cora's eyes were stolen by a large red and yellow sign. The LEGO store. She would always beg their parents to take them there as kid. She turned to Ella with a hopefully gleam in her eyes. Cora's dreams were quickly crushed. "Don't even think about it." Ella stuck her nose up in the air and picked up the pace. Oh, right. Legos were too 'boyish' for her sister. No. For a real woman. She shouldn't have even thought about it. Fuck. "Cora, I gotta run in and grab a couple of baking supplies." Ella had stopped outside a small, non-descript store called [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ambrose-restaurant-hub Amby's Baking Supplies]. "Watch my stuff for me?" It was barely a question. Cora nodded, and Ella left. She reached into her pocket to grab her phone - maybe talk to the JGT gals for a minute while Ella was gone - and the piece of paper from earlier fell out. Her curiosity getting the best of her, Cora unopened it and began reading. [[div class="blockquote"]] [[>]] ##purple\| October 2nd## [[/>]] ##purple\| I don't have much time. Hi. If I drew the shit correctly, only I should be able to read this. Hello. Its me. Well, you. You from the past. You don't remember much because of that shit ella has been scrubbing your brain with, but this should prevent that. Your name is LANDON, not Cora. You are a transmasculine teenager, living with your manipulative and controlling older sister and her idiot of a husband.## ##purple\| Your sister, ella, is with a group called jgt, and shes trying to brainwash you. Trying to make you believe youre somebody your not. Trying to make you accept "the divine order of feminity" by shoving you full of chemicals and brain worms and who knows what the fuck else. ## ##purple\| Nothing is safe. not your journals, not your phone, not your friends. or the friends ella hasn't driven away, or me with listening to her brain washer. Kai, ollie, sylvia, frank, allison... dana will be next. dont forget who you are. you are a wonderful intellegent strong perfect boy. dont let that abusive fuckhole tell you otherwise. id advise you to keep this paper. no need to burn it, the back is covered in some sort symbols i riffed from the jgt blog code, tweaked a bit so ella chester or anyone from the damn site sees it as blank. write anything you need to tell yourself here, and hide it away in your journal. whatever you do, DONT TELL ELLA. ## ##purple\|__October 29:__ the mice dissolve from saltwater. ella doesnt keep much salt in the house, i bet she knows. mix salt you can with tap water, not purified.## ##purple\|__November 8:__ ella has a couple of sports bras for sleeping. we can use one of those to make a binder. Ive put one in the mattress. ## [[/div]] @@ @@ Cora(?) nearly dropped the paper in shock. Disgust? They didn't know what they felt. No. What was she thinking. __She__ didn't know what __she__ felt. She wasn't a fucking tranny. But the note... it felt so REAL, so RIGHT, It was who THEY WERE. But. It couldn't be. Landon (Cora?) nearly leaped out of their skirt when they heard Ella's voice. "Hello, sister dearest" She said in a mock posh voice. Cora's (Landon's?) crawled at the term 'sister'. How hadn't they realized until now how much they hated it? "Hey," They managed, trying to shove the paper into their pocket inconspicuously. "What's that?" Ella's eyes narrowed, all pretense of happy shopping times over. Ella's sibling panicked. "A blank piece of paper," They stammered. Ella snatched it and stared at it. The teenager's heart raced. How would they explain it? Tell the truth? Fuck, they didn't even know what the truth was. Their sister looked at it for 10 seconds. 20 seconds. 30 seconds. Then she shrugged. "Alrighty. We should probably get going, my beautiful Chester will probably be worried SICK about us." With that, Ella handed back the paper. Cora, or Landon, or whoever they were couldn't believe their luck. ----- "Coraaaa, its time for dinner!" Ella called. Her little sibling trudged downstairs, stuck in her thoughts. Chester and Ella were seated at the opposite end of the dinner table. Chester's plate was piled high with pork, mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus, baked beans, and a bratwurst. Cora, however, had been given what Ella called their "lady plates", a small pink plate, with some of the skimpier asparagus, a measly scoop of potatoes, and a glass of milk. Cora recoiled in disgust. Why was she so upset about this today? She usually didn't mind, or even was grateful of Ella for slimming her portions. It was that damn note, wasn't it. Putting these unlady-like thoughts in her head. She reached forward for her glass of milk, when Ella made a squeak. "I almost forgot! Here's your diet pills hon," Ella pushed a small platter across the table. "Yeah," Chester added vacantly. "Eat those things like candy, and you might end up as pretty as your sister one day." Those vile, disgusting, little white pills. Without thinking, Cora slipped the pills under their tongue and took a swig of milk. That was enough to convenience Ella. Cora had been nothing but a good little girl. God no, she hated that ter- //What are you thinking you fucking shit. You are a girl, take your goddamn pills.// No. No, Cora/Landon/Whoever the fuck was done with this shit. Done with putting on a pink little mask for her sister and her husband. Without a word, they scarfed up their plate, put it in the sink, and headed up to their room. "That wasn't very feminine of you," Ella scolded. Cora/Landon's face twitched, but they pretended not to hear. As soon as they got upstairs, they flushed the pills down the toilet, had a big glass of salted water, and put on the binder tucked away under their mattress (which they somehow knew how to do perfectly). Taking a deep breath, they locked their door and wrote a little entry on a piece of paper that wasn't really blank. > ##purple\|__January 18th:__ cheek your pills, Ella won't notice## That night, Landon remembered. The memories came rushing back, whether he wanted them to or not. Yes. Landon felt right. Landon was his name. He was a boy, despite the circumstances of his birth. //A child, no more than 8 or 9, sits at the kitchen table, drawing on a piece of notebook paper. They sketch in blue and orange and red, but never pink, while their older sister stares in disgust.// //"Whatcha got there spud?" A man that must be their father asks. They look up.// //"A dinosaur! We talked about them with Mrs. Merriwether today." The child's mannerism betrays their feminine voice. "I wanna be a pale-e-n-tol-o-gist when I grow up." They were clearly very proud at pronouncing that word. Their sister groaned.// //"Cora! You're a girl, girls don't dig around in the dirt for bones."// @@ @@ //The same child, now recognizable as Landon, sits at their middle school graduation. They don't wear a dress, but instead, a suit. He stands with his parents, while his sister, arm in arm with her fiancee, watches with a venomous look.// //"Wright, Landon. Please rise." The announcer's voice echoed across the auditorium. Ella made a noise of disgust and dragged her fiancee out of the room. The proud smile on Landon's face fades as he notices his sister's departure, and tears begin to coat his eyes.// @@ @@ //Landon, now around 12, maybe 13, stood in a ceremony. The tombstone in front of him read: "Mr. and Mrs. [Wright]".// //"You did this, you ungrateful little shit. You poisoned them, caused them to end up this way. Why? Because you wanted to wear a suit and tie? You disgust me." Ella's voice was a torrent of rage, hatred, and disgust. She slapped her little brother, knocking him onto the muddy, snowy ground, before stomping away.// @@ @@ //"Alright, you want to get out of foster care? Fine, I'll take you in." Ella's voice was calm and composed, but Landon could hear the steel behind it. "On one condition. You give up this act... and join a little group of mine. We'll help you recover."// //He didn't have any choice. "I... I guess." To his suprise, Ella hugs him.// //"You'll be eager for it soon, once you realize what you've left behind." She pulls out a small piece of paper out of her pocket, and unfolds it. "Here... let me show you." Foolishly, Landon glanced at it. With a screech of pain, he fell on the ground and began twitching.// //"Needs more work." Ella stood up, "You'll thank me soon, Cora."// @@ @@ //Dana threw the mug on the ground, watching the ceramic shatter to pieces. "I'm sick and tired of this BULLSHIT, Cora! I was fine with your detransition! You can be who you want to be, even if I'm still damn sure your sister has something to do with it! But this? I'm fed up with all this TERF-y bullshit. Goodbye Cora. You've lost your only friend." With that, Dana strolled away, her platform shoes echoing down the hallway. Landon started to cry.// ----- A young person stood on the beach, skipping stones across the surface. The sun had started to set a few minutes ago. It might have been longer, but did they really care? They had a lot on their minds. Swirling questions of identity and gender and it meant to be a man or a woman or a person. But skipping the stones helped them. It was a nice feeling of familiarity, of consistency. Something they understood. "Hello there, dearest." The woman clothed in starlight had returned. "Who... who are you?" The young person asked. "Who am I? What is this? What's going on?" "Those are quite the questions..." The woman smiled. "Well, who am I? A friend in high places. Who are you? Well, when I met you, you were a young man named Landon. As for who you are now... only you can answer that." "That... doesn't really answer my question." "Few of the answers we get in life truly do." With that, the star-robed woman vanished, leaving Landon more confused than ever, standing all alone between a land of unknowns and a sea of hatred. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=NotOrteil]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-09-15T18:28:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "just-girly-things", "lgbtq", "reviewers-spotlight", "tale" ]	Standing On The Shore At Dusk - SCP Foundation	36	[ "ella-s-sickly-sweets", "we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we", "ambrose-restaurant-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii", "just-girly-things-hub" ]	[]	1449987832	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/standing-on-the-shore-at-dusk
star-of-life	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Content warnings:</strong> Brainwashing and cult-ish behaviour, major character “death”, implied self-harm, implied “suicide”.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The car was quiet save for the sound of the tires on the road. It was dark outside, and the headlights didn’t do much to cut through the planet’s ever-present fog. Fortunately, we had invented adaptations for such obstacles, and the windshield of the vehicle projected the road’s boundaries where it disappeared beyond the haze.</p> <p>I reached up to adjust the rearview mirror, angling it towards <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6118">one of the passengers</a> in the backseat. He was fast asleep, slumped in his seat’s harness with his face resting on the window.</p> <p>The night outside was cold, and the glass was no doubt leeching heat from his body. I glanced back at the other passenger, and once confirming that it wasn’t paying attention, I pressed a button on the dash to elevate the cabin’s temperature. It would only change by a few degrees, but I hoped it would be enough to keep the sleeping soldier from going cold.</p> <p>Checking the reflection again, my eyes came into contact with 7cb7’s. I immediately looked back to the road and gripped the steering handles something fierce. Apparently it had been paying more attention than I’d thought.</p> <p>“You know, you could just ask,” it offered.</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“Like, if you want to change the enviro controls, you can just ask if it’s okay. I’ll probably say yes. You don’t need to try to be sneaky about it.”</p> <p>“I’m not being sneaky.”</p> <p>“Sure…”</p> <p>We hit a small bump, and I looked back at 5a82. Still asleep; he must have been worn out. He hadn’t seemed to have slept well the night before, and the challenging day we’d had definitely hadn’t helped. It was a lot even for 7cb7 and I, so when it came to his genetic abnormality, I couldn’t imagine how he endured it all.</p> <p>“You worried about him?” the One in the backseat asked.</p> <p>“I’m a medic, and he’s fragile and sick, isn’t that my job?” I responded, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel in a display of cool collectedness.</p> <p>It chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”</p> <p>“It doesn’t mean he’s any worse,” I argued, “but the government needs to give him a serious break. They can’t truly expect him to do what we do, because at the end of the day, it’s their own fault that he is the way he is. What they should do is give him amnesty from this stupid fucking military.”</p> <p>“They probably bugged this car, 4b80. I won’t tell on you for jack, but I can’t say the same for whoever reviews the logs.”</p> <p>“Then let them hear it!” I sighed. “Why did they think making a Two out of the DNA of a Two was a good idea?”</p> <p>It reminded me of the human practice of keeping a bloodline ‘pure’ through incest. Was that what we were? As foolish as humans, who were so intelligent that they had nearly suffocated in a cloud of their own greenhouse gases?</p> <p>“No respectable person would do it, that’s for sure. But it’s clear that his handler isn’t a respectable person.”</p> <p>“Oh, I <em>know</em>.” Despite not having a stomach, there was a churning feeling deep in my gut. It was impossible for me to forget the sound of that bastard striking its poor ward.</p> <p>“Is that why you jumped to get 5a82 on our squad?” 7cb7 asked, willing as ever to casually ask the most blatant and personal questions.</p> <p>I recalled my discussion with the Handler. I’d pushed the conversation as much as I could, because my fear of its anger being turned towards me was very insignificant in comparison to my fear of what could happen to the small Two.</p> <p>“What else was I supposed to do? Who knows what else they would have put him through?”</p> <p>“It’s not a criticism. I really like having him here.” I watched in the rearview mirror as it turned towards the sleeping passenger, then took off its jacket and folded it into a pillow-like shape and gently raised his head, placing it between that and the car’s hard surface. It took out its feed interface and briefly rolled up 5a82’s sleeve, taking a photo of a large bruise around his wrist that looked like it had come from a hand.</p> <p>“And I know you do, too,” it continued after replacing his sleeve to its original position. “He’s kinda like a little sibling to you, isn’t he?”</p> <p>“Twos don’t have siblings,” I reminded it.</p> <p>“Sisters?”</p> <p>“I mean, technically if there was an error in the duplication sequence, if the stem cells doubled and divided in halves? They’d be identical twins, so technically daughters of each other, which you could refer to as sisters… but they wouldn’t be siblings in any way that Ones can be siblings, or even family.”</p> <p>“What’s up with the whole deal of Twos’ families?”</p> <p>“We don’t have them,” I stated flatly.</p> <p>“But 5a82–”</p> <p>“His handler is <em>not</em> his parent! I don’t care what psychological disease it has, no amount of delusion will ever mean that they’re family. Families don’t abuse each other, do they?” I demanded.</p> <p>7cb7 was silent for a moment.</p> <p>“My parent wasn’t always single, you know.”</p> <p>“I know. I’m very angry right now, I’m sorry,” I sighed.</p> <p>I knew why it had joined the military, and I genuinely sympathised, but at the same time, I couldn’t help the low-level jealousy I felt. Because, even if it was a selfish thought, 7cb7 had <em>had</em> the choice to join the military, and had done so because its family was subpar.</p> <p>But me? I’d been thrown into it just about, my three meager years in the Academy spent on mental conditioning more than preparing me for any kind of life. I didn’t have a family to choose to leave.</p> <p>At least the tiniest dregs of power I held were enough to get into the medical department. At least then I had emergency medical training, and could– in theory– help my comrades instead of being solely forced into murder.</p> <p>My eyes drifted back to the reflection of 5a82. Twos might not have been taught any form of compassion, but I sure felt sympathy for the sleeping unit.</p> <p>“Yes, he would be kind of like a little sibling, if we were Ones,” I finally answered.</p> <p>“Does that ever feel weird?” 7cb7 asked. “Like a kind of relationship you’re always going to miss out on?”</p> <p>“Twos are lucky if they’re even allowed friends, tisen.”</p> <p>“Pretty cultish behaviour, no?” It didn’t comment on my use of the word, so I hoped it knew I didn’t mean it in the way that Ones meant it– I wasn’t calling it a traitor like they used it to mean. Joining the military wasn’t a traitorous act, at least to us Twos, because that’s just how life was.</p> <p>Our existence wasn’t traitorous. We did exactly what we were meant to, which was quite literally the opposite of betrayal. There were, on occasion, Twos that deserted or otherwise disappeared into the hands of the rebellion, but that was rare enough that it may as well have been a myth.</p> <p>“It’s just how life is. We were created for a purpose, and we carry it out. That purpose just happens to not involve making friends.”</p> <p>“I’ve been reading about human cults, and a big part is usually cutting victims off from their friends and family, isolating them. It’s almost like the government builds this into your–”</p> <p>“Now I’m reminding <em>you</em> that this car is probably bugged, 7cb7,” I interrupted.</p> <p>“Fair enough,” it sighed, looking out the window to its side. “But it’s not right.”</p> <p>“Right or not, I can’t change it.”</p> <p>The cabin lapsed into silence again. These were the kinds of things we weren’t allowed to talk about, even as jokes– nobody changed it, nobody disturbed the status quo. That was the kind of thing that got you killed.</p> <p>I exhaled and adjusted my grip on the steering handles, eyes locked on the bleak outline of the road ahead of me. In my mind, I pledged my allegiance to my superiors. They would tell me what was right.</p> <hr/> <p>I sat on my bed in the barracks, head in hands. I didn’t cry, I didn’t fucking <em>cry</em>, but I didn’t entirely not cry, either. I only wished the leave they’d put 5a82 and I on had included leaving all my feelings behind just as I’d left… the One.</p> <p>Everything was fine, I told myself, everything was okay. I had done as I’d been ordered, which was exactly what I was supposed to do, what I <em>should</em> have done.</p> <p>I drove my fist into the top of the bed beside me.</p> <p>It was exactly what I was supposed to do. I was following orders, following orders, I was following orders, and orders are right, orders are what you’re supposed to do, orders are what you’re supposed to follow and I followed them. It was fine. Everything was fine.</p> <p>A quiet knock at my door startled me out of my spiralling thoughts, and I got up to answer the door. I pulled it open, and it was 5a82, almost swallowed up by an oversized sweatshirt.</p> <p>“5a82! What’s going on? Is everything alright?” I asked, eyes searching his downturned face. He looked very unwell, as if he hadn’t slept properly in days, with blue-and-purple splotches around his eyes in a bruise-like pattern. The sweatshirt might as well have been on a clothing hanger for all the volume his body had.</p> <p>He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. That was not a good sign.</p> <p>“Do you want a hug?” I asked, reaching out my arms towards him.</p> <p>He swayed slightly– from fatigue or a subconscious need to accept it, I didn’t know– but then stepped back, shaking his head. “All of this is my fault. I’m going to make it right.”</p> <p>5a82 turned away and began to walk down the hallway, headed to who knew where. I caught a brief glimpse of something white under the hem of his sleeve– both sleeves. Stained blue. They were bandages, something I’d seen on him many times before. Well-hidden, though not always. Just another symptom of his abuse, that which had hurt him so badly that he perpetuated it onto his own body to cope.</p> <p>“Wait!” I called after him. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t even stop. “Wait,” I whispered, a welling feeling working its way into my chest, up into my eyes.</p> <p>I knew somewhere deep inside that he wouldn’t be coming back. He’d been forced into compliance with horrible, horrible acts, he’d been abused and degraded, he’d been treated even worse than most Twos would ever be.</p> <p>And 7cb7 had been different. It had shown him care and even love. And because of me– even if I couldn’t help it, even if I had no choice, even if there was no other option– it was likely dead. I’d done everything I could to become a combat medic, to help my squadmates, but now <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spliced">one of them had been exploded</a> on my watch, and I was powerless to stop the other one from dying as well.</p> <p>I could have run after him, could have begged him not to kill himself. I could have physically held him down until they forcefully admitted him to the hospital, maybe indefinitely. But was that fair? Was it fair to make him suffer for the rest of his life under psychiatric hold because of what <em>I</em> had done? He deserved mercy for once in his life.</p> <p>I shut the door and sank to my knees on the other side of it. I sobbed.</p> <hr/> <p>Kepler kept turning on its axis, kept revolving around our Sun; sols kept passing and I kept breathing and my hearts kept beating.</p> <p>I was assigned to a new patrol squad, with Twos who looked just like me, acted just like me, and didn’t make idle conversation. It was for the best, as that was all I could take at that point, the perpetual silence and isolation.</p> <p>It was all I deserved, really. The mind-numbing loneliness hung heavy in the hollow of my chest, somewhere my lungs should have been; that’s all that could be there, for how little I could breathe.</p> <p>My eyes flitted absently over the feed interface I held, scanning the headlines for anything that could be interesting. Anything to distract me, even for a second.</p> <p>‘GOVERNMENT IN A FRENZY AFTER UNAUTHORISED CREW-GRADE ROCKET LAUNCH.’</p> <p>It was from a reputable source, known for being factual and neutral instead of one of those <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ambrose-kepler">highly opinionated tabloids</a>. I opened it and scrolled down the article, skimming it until something caught my eye.</p> <p>‘–suspected to be rebel sympathisers, fleeing after kicking off the distribution of an antidote to the current epidemic–’</p> <p><em>Why would they be rebel sympathisers if they’re working to cure the virus?</em> I thought, but kept reading.</p> <p>‘–live tissue was allegedly used, though it’s unclear who the donor was. The crew-grade rocket included a compartment for a live animal, but it isn’t big enough to house a full-sized kepler–’</p> <p>I closed the article. I didn’t want to think about undersized keplers at that moment, or really ever. Reminders brought memories, and memories brought depression, and if I was depressed I wouldn’t be able to do my job– and that was all us Twos were good for, our stupid fucking jobs given to us by the stupid fucking government.</p> <p>It was honestly a good thing that nobody looked like him, because I wouldn’t be able to bear interacting with someone who did.</p> <hr/> <p>It was a relatively normal day on patrol when I first heard the sirens. Distant at first, then progressively louder, until a med unit suddenly shot down the road next to me; the deafening pitch-sliding as it passed<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> It hit me almost as hard as the alert that popped up on my visor, warning all nearby patrols that a building had partially collapsed in the area. Injuries and casualties were unable to be reported on, but it was a large housing complex for individuals and families who otherwise wouldn’t have homes.</p> <p>I thought of 7cb7, and I thought of its family, and I started running. The other units in my squad called after me, but I ignored them, professing silent gratitude to evolution for digitigrade legs as I sprinted after the vehicle.</p> <p>The housing complex was only a few blocks away, and I arrived to swaths of first responders carrying out wounded civilians and tending to their injuries. Someone waved me over and pointed to my chest, my vest bearing the outline of double-crossed syringes that signified me as a combat medic.</p> <p>“Can you help?” it asked as it frantically rifled through a bag of medical supplies.</p> <p>“I can lift 120 and do CPR,” I responded.</p> <p>“Go with recovery, there.” It pointed to a larger vehicle with a congregation of people being partnered up by rescue coordinators, then running off into the building together.</p> <p>I ran over and was paired with someone I barely looked at before we were sent off with a stretcher between us. My visor overflowed with warnings about going into a half-crumbled building, but I didn’t give a shit, cancelling all of them and setting it to only display trackers if it identified someone. There must have been dozens of other people doing the exact same, so I couldn’t throw a tantrum over some crumbling walls.</p> <p>We darted through corridors and searched rooms, until finally happening upon a couple of individuals in one of them. One of them lay on the ground, and the other sat by it. Both shrank back as they saw me enter the room.</p> <p>“We’re here to help,” my companion announced as we walked over.</p> <p>The sitting One brushed its fingers against its cheek, up to its ear twice– <em>deaf</em>.</p> <p>“Uh– fuck, what?” it responded.</p> <p>I set my end of the stretcher down and walked over, grimacing on the inside of my visor as the Ones appeared visibly uncomfortable by my presence. I knelt in front of them and showed that my hands were empty before signing slowly, carefully; <em>you</em>– <em>come with</em>– <em>us</em>– <em>safe</em>.</p> <p>It held up its index and middle finger. <em>Two</em>.</p> <p><em>Safe</em>, I repeated.</p> <p>It pointed at the person laying down beside it. <em>Walk</em>– <em>no</em>.</p> <p>I pointed at the stretcher. I didn’t know how to sign that, since the lessons I’d gotten ended at simple commands, but it seemed to understand, moving into a crouching position as it placed its arms under the prone One.</p> <p>I also moved into a crouch and held out my arms; after a moment of hesitation, it let me take it, and I walked over to the stretcher and placed it on top.</p> <p><em>You</em>– <em>walk</em>– I shrugged very exaggeratedly to try and append a <em>?</em> onto the question, my face covering making it impossible to do so with an expression.</p> <p><em>Walk</em>– <em>yes</em>. It stood up and took up a place by the person on the stretcher, and followed with a hand holding onto it as we made our way out of the building.</p> <p>We delivered them to the emergency medical workers, who wrapped them in blankets and dismissed us with a new stretcher. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the person sign something; I hadn’t been taught that one, but I imagined it meant <em>Thank you</em>.</p> <hr/> <p>The next person we found was young, definitely under the age of adolescence. It cowered on the corner of its bed, knees hugged to its chest as it rocked back and forth.</p> <p>I cringed, knowing how horrible I was with children, especially ones in such obvious distress. I was about to turn around to ask my companion to communicate for me, until the child raised its head and I caught full sight of its face.</p> <p>It looked very shockingly like 7cb7. Not an exact match, but similar, certainly enough that it caught me way off guard. The ochre skin, light hair, and starkly turquoise eyes– looking at its friendly, downturned eyes, saddened with tears, I wondered if that was what 7cb7 would have looked like if it had cried. Not that I’d ever seen it do so; not that anyone ever had.</p> <p>We set down the stretcher and I slowly approached the child, palms open.</p> <p>“Um– hello there,” I greeted quietly, attempting to soften my voice from its rather coarse default. “We’re going to take you out of the building. It’s dangerous in here.”</p> <p>It sniffled and stopped rocking.</p> <p>I pointed at my ears. “Can you hear me?”</p> <p>It nodded.</p> <p>“Can you walk with us?”</p> <p>It nodded again. “I can run really fast. The fastest at my school,” it said hoarsely.</p> <p>“I bet you can,” I agreed, trying to be supportive. “It’s better if we move slowly, though. This building is unstable and running around fast could make it break more.”</p> <p>Its face lit up at that, apparently revelling in the ability to break apart the building with its powerful strides. It made sense; if I was a small child who’d ended up living in worn-out government housing, I imagined I would also want to be a little destructive to my surroundings.</p> <p>“Okay, I’ll walk,” it agreed, wiping its face on its sleeve and getting up off the bed.</p> <p>For some reason, I held out my hand to the child, and for some reason, it took it. The person with me carried the stretcher vertically as we made our way back out the building, treading carefully as this was one of its more damaged sections.</p> <p>As we rounded the corner, a ceiling panel crashed down right next to us; the child yelled and jumped backwards, then burst into tears.</p> <p>“I’m– I’m sorry,” it apologised as it hyperventilated. “Crying is– is for babies.”</p> <p>I knelt down beside it, taking a hand towel out of my pocket to offer it. It wiped its face off and breathed while holding the cloth over its nose and mouth, likely in an attempt to regulate its breathing.</p> <p>“Sometimes you need to cry,” I said softly. “It hurts worse to bottle it all up.”</p> <p>It wiped its eyes and looked down at its feet, breath still shaky but much calmer.</p> <p>“What’s your name?” I asked.</p> <p>“9fa2,” it answered, barely looking up.</p> <p>“You know, 9fa2, you’re very brave to come with us in the first place. I know you’re probably afraid of looking weak in front of us, so you don’t want to cry, but I think it shows how strong you are. This is so scary to you, but you’re doing it anyways. That’s what’s most important.”</p> <p>It nodded and swallowed. After a moment of hesitation, it leaned forwards and put its arms around my shoulders, giving me a loose hug.</p> <p>I tensed up in surprise, but didn’t move. Unlike 5a82, I hadn’t been hit or hurt by another person, but it wasn’t like I’d ever been given affection, either. That wasn’t something Twos received, not from other Twos, not from Ones.</p> <p>“You’re my hero,” it mumbled, punctuated by a sniffle and a hiccup.</p> <p>My eyes widened and I clenched my jaw hard, the world in front of me glazing over just slightly. Nobody had ever said that to me before, and why would they? The only outstanding thing about me was that I had failed everyone who depended on me. I was just a Two, another cog in the murder machine, nobody of importance, nobody worth caring about.</p> <p>And I knew it was just the mutterings of a child, something 9fa2 had said because it was scared and alone and I was trying to comfort it. But it felt like having my chest torn open, my ribcage removed so that my hearts were free to swell out of the space they’d been squeezed into my whole life. That I’d squeezed them into, carefully instructed by my teachers, my handlers, peers, everything I’d ever fucking known.</p> <p>After a few moments, it let go of me and stepped back. I stood up, hoping my slight wobble was less noticeable than it felt as I led it out of that hallway and through the rest of the building.</p> <p>As soon as we left through the front exit, it ran over to someone who whipped around and exclaimed its name, gathering it into their arms.</p> <p>“Thank you so much!” the One called to me. “I was worried sick! Couldn’t find my kid anywhere!”</p> <p>I nodded and waved to 9fa2 as it turned around in its parent’s arms, before hurrying off into the place marked as a rest area for those aiding the recovery efforts. I slumped against the shaded side of a car and slid open my visor, taking out a smaller, shittier towel to wipe off my watery eyes.</p> <p>Footsteps came up beside me, and I slammed it closed again. My head snapped to the source of the noise and I saw the person I’d been paired with, who slid its hand down the side of the vehicle as it sat down.</p> <p>“You okay?” it asked.</p> <p>“Hey, you’re a proper EMT, right?” I asked back.</p> <p>“Yeah, been in the field for a few years. Why?”</p> <p>“How do I do that?”</p> <p>“Huh? How do you mean?” It frowned slightly, but didn’t appear upset, just as if it were trying to wrap its head around the concept.</p> <p>“I want to work in emergency medical services,” I clarified, trying to keep a tone of desperation out of my voice.</p> <p>It blew out a breath. “I don’t know if they let Twos do that, beyond being combat medics.”</p> <p>“I’ll do anything.”</p> <p>It was silent for a moment. “Okay, you know what? After this, just stick with me and I’ll bring you to the station I work at. I’ll… tell everyone how helpful you were. They trust me, and it’s also not a lie.”</p> <p>“You would do that for me?” I tried not to let hope leak into my voice.</p> <p>“Sure thing.”</p> <p>“Why?”</p> <p>It paused again before responding. “You seem like someone who’s got it real fuckin’ rough, who never asks for help. It’s how Twos are, you know…” It chuckled sadly. “So I don’t want to ignore you finally doing so.”</p> <p>I looked past it, to the ambulances loading up the injured and driving them off to the hospital. To all the people reuniting with their families or friends that they had been so anxious about. To concerned civilians offering blankets and water bottles and words of reassurance.</p> <p>And I decided I wanted to be like them.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/star-of-life">Star of Life</a>" by tiredsn0w, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/star-of-life">https://scpwiki.com/star-of-life</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. The Doppler effect.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Content warnings: Brainwashing and cult-ish behaviour, major character “death”, implied self-harm, implied “suicide”. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] The car was quiet save for the sound of the tires on the road. It was dark outside, and the headlights didn’t do much to cut through the planet’s ever-present fog. Fortunately, we had invented adaptations for such obstacles, and the windshield of the vehicle projected the road’s boundaries where it disappeared beyond the haze. I reached up to adjust the rearview mirror, angling it towards [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6118 one of the passengers] in the backseat. He was fast asleep, slumped in his seat’s harness with his face resting on the window. The night outside was cold, and the glass was no doubt leeching heat from his body. I glanced back at the other passenger, and once confirming that it wasn’t paying attention, I pressed a button on the dash to elevate the cabin’s temperature. It would only change by a few degrees, but I hoped it would be enough to keep the sleeping soldier from going cold. Checking the reflection again, my eyes came into contact with 7cb7’s. I immediately looked back to the road and gripped the steering handles something fierce. Apparently it had been paying more attention than I’d thought. “You know, you could just ask,” it offered. “What?” “Like, if you want to change the enviro controls, you can just ask if it’s okay. I’ll probably say yes. You don’t need to try to be sneaky about it.” “I’m not being sneaky.” “Sure…” We hit a small bump, and I looked back at 5a82. Still asleep; he must have been worn out. He hadn’t seemed to have slept well the night before, and the challenging day we’d had definitely hadn’t helped. It was a lot even for 7cb7 and I, so when it came to his genetic abnormality, I couldn’t imagine how he endured it all. “You worried about him?” the One in the backseat asked. “I’m a medic, and he’s fragile and sick, isn’t that my job?” I responded, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel in a display of cool collectedness. It chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that.” “It doesn’t mean he’s any worse,” I argued, “but the government needs to give him a serious break. They can’t truly expect him to do what we do, because at the end of the day, it’s their own fault that he is the way he is. What they should do is give him amnesty from this stupid fucking military.” “They probably bugged this car, 4b80. I won’t tell on you for jack, but I can’t say the same for whoever reviews the logs.” “Then let them hear it!” I sighed. “Why did they think making a Two out of the DNA of a Two was a good idea?” It reminded me of the human practice of keeping a bloodline ‘pure’ through incest. Was that what we were? As foolish as humans, who were so intelligent that they had nearly suffocated in a cloud of their own greenhouse gases? “No respectable person would do it, that’s for sure. But it’s clear that his handler isn’t a respectable person.” “Oh, I //know//.” Despite not having a stomach, there was a churning feeling deep in my gut. It was impossible for me to forget the sound of that bastard striking its poor ward. “Is that why you jumped to get 5a82 on our squad?” 7cb7 asked, willing as ever to casually ask the most blatant and personal questions. I recalled my discussion with the Handler. I’d pushed the conversation as much as I could, because my fear of its anger being turned towards me was very insignificant in comparison to my fear of what could happen to the small Two. “What else was I supposed to do? Who knows what else they would have put him through?” “It’s not a criticism. I really like having him here.” I watched in the rearview mirror as it turned towards the sleeping passenger, then took off its jacket and folded it into a pillow-like shape and gently raised his head, placing it between that and the car’s hard surface. It took out its feed interface and briefly rolled up 5a82’s sleeve, taking a photo of a large bruise around his wrist that looked like it had come from a hand. “And I know you do, too,” it continued after replacing his sleeve to its original position. “He’s kinda like a little sibling to you, isn’t he?” “Twos don’t have siblings,” I reminded it. “Sisters?” “I mean, technically if there was an error in the duplication sequence, if the stem cells doubled and divided in halves? They’d be identical twins, so technically daughters of each other, which you could refer to as sisters… but they wouldn’t be siblings in any way that Ones can be siblings, or even family.” “What’s up with the whole deal of Twos’ families?” “We don’t have them,” I stated flatly. “But 5a82–” “His handler is //not// his parent! I don’t care what psychological disease it has, no amount of delusion will ever mean that they’re family. Families don’t abuse each other, do they?” I demanded. 7cb7 was silent for a moment. “My parent wasn’t always single, you know.” “I know. I’m very angry right now, I’m sorry,” I sighed. I knew why it had joined the military, and I genuinely sympathised, but at the same time, I couldn’t help the low-level jealousy I felt. Because, even if it was a selfish thought, 7cb7 had //had// the choice to join the military, and had done so because its family was subpar. But me? I’d been thrown into it just about, my three meager years in the Academy spent on mental conditioning more than preparing me for any kind of life. I didn’t have a family to choose to leave. At least the tiniest dregs of power I held were enough to get into the medical department. At least then I had emergency medical training, and could– in theory– help my comrades instead of being solely forced into murder. My eyes drifted back to the reflection of 5a82. Twos might not have been taught any form of compassion, but I sure felt sympathy for the sleeping unit. “Yes, he would be kind of like a little sibling, if we were Ones,” I finally answered. “Does that ever feel weird?” 7cb7 asked. “Like a kind of relationship you’re always going to miss out on?” “Twos are lucky if they’re even allowed friends, tisen.” “Pretty cultish behaviour, no?” It didn’t comment on my use of the word, so I hoped it knew I didn’t mean it in the way that Ones meant it– I wasn’t calling it a traitor like they used it to mean. Joining the military wasn’t a traitorous act, at least to us Twos, because that’s just how life was. Our existence wasn’t traitorous. We did exactly what we were meant to, which was quite literally the opposite of betrayal. There were, on occasion, Twos that deserted or otherwise disappeared into the hands of the rebellion, but that was rare enough that it may as well have been a myth. “It’s just how life is. We were created for a purpose, and we carry it out. That purpose just happens to not involve making friends.” “I’ve been reading about human cults, and a big part is usually cutting victims off from their friends and family, isolating them. It’s almost like the government builds this into your–” “Now I’m reminding //you// that this car is probably bugged, 7cb7,” I interrupted. “Fair enough,” it sighed, looking out the window to its side. “But it’s not right.” “Right or not, I can’t change it.” The cabin lapsed into silence again. These were the kinds of things we weren’t allowed to talk about, even as jokes– nobody changed it, nobody disturbed the status quo. That was the kind of thing that got you killed. I exhaled and adjusted my grip on the steering handles, eyes locked on the bleak outline of the road ahead of me. In my mind, I pledged my allegiance to my superiors. They would tell me what was right. ------ I sat on my bed in the barracks, head in hands. I didn’t cry, I didn’t fucking //cry//, but I didn’t entirely not cry, either. I only wished the leave they’d put 5a82 and I on had included leaving all my feelings behind just as I’d left… the One. Everything was fine, I told myself, everything was okay. I had done as I’d been ordered, which was exactly what I was supposed to do, what I //should// have done. I drove my fist into the top of the bed beside me. It was exactly what I was supposed to do. I was following orders, following orders, I was following orders, and orders are right, orders are what you’re supposed to do, orders are what you’re supposed to follow and I followed them. It was fine. Everything was fine. A quiet knock at my door startled me out of my spiralling thoughts, and I got up to answer the door. I pulled it open, and it was 5a82, almost swallowed up by an oversized sweatshirt. “5a82! What’s going on? Is everything alright?” I asked, eyes searching his downturned face. He looked very unwell, as if he hadn’t slept properly in days, with blue-and-purple splotches around his eyes in a bruise-like pattern. The sweatshirt might as well have been on a clothing hanger for all the volume his body had. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. That was not a good sign. “Do you want a hug?” I asked, reaching out my arms towards him. He swayed slightly– from fatigue or a subconscious need to accept it, I didn’t know– but then stepped back, shaking his head. “All of this is my fault. I’m going to make it right.” 5a82 turned away and began to walk down the hallway, headed to who knew where. I caught a brief glimpse of something white under the hem of his sleeve– both sleeves. Stained blue. They were bandages, something I’d seen on him many times before. Well-hidden, though not always. Just another symptom of his abuse, that which had hurt him so badly that he perpetuated it onto his own body to cope. “Wait!” I called after him. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t even stop. “Wait,” I whispered, a welling feeling working its way into my chest, up into my eyes. I knew somewhere deep inside that he wouldn’t be coming back. He’d been forced into compliance with horrible, horrible acts, he’d been abused and degraded, he’d been treated even worse than most Twos would ever be. And 7cb7 had been different. It had shown him care and even love. And because of me– even if I couldn’t help it, even if I had no choice, even if there was no other option– it was likely dead. I’d done everything I could to become a combat medic, to help my squadmates, but now [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spliced one of them had been exploded] on my watch, and I was powerless to stop the other one from dying as well. I could have run after him, could have begged him not to kill himself. I could have physically held him down until they forcefully admitted him to the hospital, maybe indefinitely. But was that fair? Was it fair to make him suffer for the rest of his life under psychiatric hold because of what //I// had done? He deserved mercy for once in his life. I shut the door and sank to my knees on the other side of it. I sobbed. ------ Kepler kept turning on its axis, kept revolving around our Sun; sols kept passing and I kept breathing and my hearts kept beating. I was assigned to a new patrol squad, with Twos who looked just like me, acted just like me, and didn’t make idle conversation. It was for the best, as that was all I could take at that point, the perpetual silence and isolation. It was all I deserved, really. The mind-numbing loneliness hung heavy in the hollow of my chest, somewhere my lungs should have been; that’s all that could be there, for how little I could breathe. My eyes flitted absently over the feed interface I held, scanning the headlines for anything that could be interesting. Anything to distract me, even for a second. ‘GOVERNMENT IN A FRENZY AFTER UNAUTHORISED CREW-GRADE ROCKET LAUNCH.’ It was from a reputable source, known for being factual and neutral instead of one of those [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ambrose-kepler highly opinionated tabloids]. I opened it and scrolled down the article, skimming it until something caught my eye. ‘–suspected to be rebel sympathisers, fleeing after kicking off the distribution of an antidote to the current epidemic–’ //Why would they be rebel sympathisers if they’re working to cure the virus?// I thought, but kept reading. ‘–live tissue was allegedly used, though it’s unclear who the donor was. The crew-grade rocket included a compartment for a live animal, but it isn’t big enough to house a full-sized kepler–’ I closed the article. I didn’t want to think about undersized keplers at that moment, or really ever. Reminders brought memories, and memories brought depression, and if I was depressed I wouldn’t be able to do my job– and that was all us Twos were good for, our stupid fucking jobs given to us by the stupid fucking government. It was honestly a good thing that nobody looked like him, because I wouldn’t be able to bear interacting with someone who did. ------ It was a relatively normal day on patrol when I first heard the sirens. Distant at first, then progressively louder, until a med unit suddenly shot down the road next to me; the deafening pitch-sliding as it passed[[footnote]]The Doppler effect.[[/footnote]] It hit me almost as hard as the alert that popped up on my visor, warning all nearby patrols that a building had partially collapsed in the area. Injuries and casualties were unable to be reported on, but it was a large housing complex for individuals and families who otherwise wouldn’t have homes. I thought of 7cb7, and I thought of its family, and I started running. The other units in my squad called after me, but I ignored them, professing silent gratitude to evolution for digitigrade legs as I sprinted after the vehicle. The housing complex was only a few blocks away, and I arrived to swaths of first responders carrying out wounded civilians and tending to their injuries. Someone waved me over and pointed to my chest, my vest bearing the outline of double-crossed syringes that signified me as a combat medic. “Can you help?” it asked as it frantically rifled through a bag of medical supplies. “I can lift 120 and do CPR,” I responded. “Go with recovery, there.” It pointed to a larger vehicle with a congregation of people being partnered up by rescue coordinators, then running off into the building together. I ran over and was paired with someone I barely looked at before we were sent off with a stretcher between us. My visor overflowed with warnings about going into a half-crumbled building, but I didn’t give a shit, cancelling all of them and setting it to only display trackers if it identified someone. There must have been dozens of other people doing the exact same, so I couldn’t throw a tantrum over some crumbling walls. We darted through corridors and searched rooms, until finally happening upon a couple of individuals in one of them. One of them lay on the ground, and the other sat by it. Both shrank back as they saw me enter the room. “We’re here to help,” my companion announced as we walked over. The sitting One brushed its fingers against its cheek, up to its ear twice– //deaf//. “Uh– fuck, what?” it responded. I set my end of the stretcher down and walked over, grimacing on the inside of my visor as the Ones appeared visibly uncomfortable by my presence. I knelt in front of them and showed that my hands were empty before signing slowly, carefully; //you//– //come with//– //us//– //safe//. It held up its index and middle finger. //Two//. //Safe//, I repeated. It pointed at the person laying down beside it. //Walk//– //no//. I pointed at the stretcher. I didn’t know how to sign that, since the lessons I’d gotten ended at simple commands, but it seemed to understand, moving into a crouching position as it placed its arms under the prone One. I also moved into a crouch and held out my arms; after a moment of hesitation, it let me take it, and I walked over to the stretcher and placed it on top. //You//– //walk//– I shrugged very exaggeratedly to try and append a //?// onto the question, my face covering making it impossible to do so with an expression. //Walk//– //yes//. It stood up and took up a place by the person on the stretcher, and followed with a hand holding onto it as we made our way out of the building. We delivered them to the emergency medical workers, who wrapped them in blankets and dismissed us with a new stretcher. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the person sign something; I hadn’t been taught that one, but I imagined it meant //Thank you//. ------ The next person we found was young, definitely under the age of adolescence. It cowered on the corner of its bed, knees hugged to its chest as it rocked back and forth. I cringed, knowing how horrible I was with children, especially ones in such obvious distress. I was about to turn around to ask my companion to communicate for me, until the child raised its head and I caught full sight of its face. It looked very shockingly like 7cb7. Not an exact match, but similar, certainly enough that it caught me way off guard. The ochre skin, light hair, and starkly turquoise eyes– looking at its friendly, downturned eyes, saddened with tears, I wondered if that was what 7cb7 would have looked like if it had cried. Not that I’d ever seen it do so; not that anyone ever had. We set down the stretcher and I slowly approached the child, palms open. “Um– hello there,” I greeted quietly, attempting to soften my voice from its rather coarse default. “We’re going to take you out of the building. It’s dangerous in here.” It sniffled and stopped rocking. I pointed at my ears. “Can you hear me?” It nodded. “Can you walk with us?” It nodded again. “I can run really fast. The fastest at my school,” it said hoarsely. “I bet you can,” I agreed, trying to be supportive. “It’s better if we move slowly, though. This building is unstable and running around fast could make it break more.” Its face lit up at that, apparently revelling in the ability to break apart the building with its powerful strides. It made sense; if I was a small child who’d ended up living in worn-out government housing, I imagined I would also want to be a little destructive to my surroundings. “Okay, I’ll walk,” it agreed, wiping its face on its sleeve and getting up off the bed. For some reason, I held out my hand to the child, and for some reason, it took it. The person with me carried the stretcher vertically as we made our way back out the building, treading carefully as this was one of its more damaged sections. As we rounded the corner, a ceiling panel crashed down right next to us; the child yelled and jumped backwards, then burst into tears. “I’m– I’m sorry,” it apologised as it hyperventilated. “Crying is– is for babies.” I knelt down beside it, taking a hand towel out of my pocket to offer it. It wiped its face off and breathed while holding the cloth over its nose and mouth, likely in an attempt to regulate its breathing. “Sometimes you need to cry,” I said softly. “It hurts worse to bottle it all up.” It wiped its eyes and looked down at its feet, breath still shaky but much calmer. “What’s your name?” I asked. “9fa2,” it answered, barely looking up. “You know, 9fa2, you’re very brave to come with us in the first place. I know you’re probably afraid of looking weak in front of us, so you don’t want to cry, but I think it shows how strong you are. This is so scary to you, but you’re doing it anyways. That’s what’s most important.” It nodded and swallowed. After a moment of hesitation, it leaned forwards and put its arms around my shoulders, giving me a loose hug. I tensed up in surprise, but didn’t move. Unlike 5a82, I hadn’t been hit or hurt by another person, but it wasn’t like I’d ever been given affection, either. That wasn’t something Twos received, not from other Twos, not from Ones. “You’re my hero,” it mumbled, punctuated by a sniffle and a hiccup. My eyes widened and I clenched my jaw hard, the world in front of me glazing over just slightly. Nobody had ever said that to me before, and why would they? The only outstanding thing about me was that I had failed everyone who depended on me. I was just a Two, another cog in the murder machine, nobody of importance, nobody worth caring about. And I knew it was just the mutterings of a child, something 9fa2 had said because it was scared and alone and I was trying to comfort it. But it felt like having my chest torn open, my ribcage removed so that my hearts were free to swell out of the space they’d been squeezed into my whole life. That I’d squeezed them into, carefully instructed by my teachers, my handlers, peers, everything I’d ever fucking known. After a few moments, it let go of me and stepped back. I stood up, hoping my slight wobble was less noticeable than it felt as I led it out of that hallway and through the rest of the building. As soon as we left through the front exit, it ran over to someone who whipped around and exclaimed its name, gathering it into their arms. “Thank you so much!” the One called to me. “I was worried sick! Couldn’t find my kid anywhere!” I nodded and waved to 9fa2 as it turned around in its parent’s arms, before hurrying off into the place marked as a rest area for those aiding the recovery efforts. I slumped against the shaded side of a car and slid open my visor, taking out a smaller, shittier towel to wipe off my watery eyes. Footsteps came up beside me, and I slammed it closed again. My head snapped to the source of the noise and I saw the person I’d been paired with, who slid its hand down the side of the vehicle as it sat down. “You okay?” it asked. “Hey, you’re a proper EMT, right?” I asked back. “Yeah, been in the field for a few years. Why?” “How do I do that?” “Huh? How do you mean?” It frowned slightly, but didn’t appear upset, just as if it were trying to wrap its head around the concept. “I want to work in emergency medical services,” I clarified, trying to keep a tone of desperation out of my voice. It blew out a breath. “I don’t know if they let Twos do that, beyond being combat medics.” “I’ll do anything.” It was silent for a moment. “Okay, you know what? After this, just stick with me and I’ll bring you to the station I work at. I’ll… tell everyone how helpful you were. They trust me, and it’s also not a lie.” “You would do that for me?” I tried not to let hope leak into my voice. “Sure thing.” “Why?” It paused again before responding. “You seem like someone who’s got it real fuckin’ rough, who never asks for help. It’s how Twos are, you know…” It chuckled sadly. “So I don’t want to ignore you finally doing so.” I looked past it, to the ambulances loading up the injured and driving them off to the hospital. To all the people reuniting with their families or friends that they had been so anxious about. To concerned civilians offering blankets and water bottles and words of reassurance. And I decided I wanted to be like them. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-26T22:22:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "blue-blooded-alien", "tale" ]	Star of Life - SCP Foundation	6	[ "scp-6118", "spliced", "ambrose-kepler", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449570593	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/star-of-life
stealing-something-else	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Armed Area-529</p> <p><strong>Location:</strong> Barentsøya, Svalbard</p> <p><strong>Status:</strong> Inactive</p> <p><strong>Summary:</strong> Foundation Area-529 is located underground on the island of Barentsøya, an officially-uninhabited island part of the Svalbard archipelago, which is considered to be part of Norway. It was created in 1958 to provide a sustainable containment solution for SCP-████-1 instances.</p> <p>The facility is staffed with 110 armed personnel and 14,000 security drones who maintain a 24/7 watch. Human personnel are amnesticized and cycled out annually to ensure that they remain on high alert. Directors of nearby Foundation facilities do not have clearance to know of Area-529, but instead have special instructions to provide emergency backup in the case of a hostile incursion.</p> <p>Due to climate treaties and concerns about disruption to normalcy, the Area is not equipped with a nuclear warhead, but rather has a fail-safe Dolbuss Vacuum Sink in the event of a catastrophic breach. The device has been configured to disguise the destroyed facility as unexpected glacier movement.</p> </blockquote> <p><em>Solidarity</em> sailed into the night. Or, rather, the sky, but so far above the equator it was always nighttime this time of year.</p> <p>"I still can't believe we pulled that off. How did you even find that place?"</p> <p>Nanami grinned. "Remember the other day, when Boss took that meeting? It was the Chaos Insurgency."</p> <p>Tomi nodded. "What did they want?"</p> <p>"Something to help them against the Foundation. We told 'em to go to hell, but since they gave us the site schematics 'n' shit, I guess they thought we'd fight, I told her, hey why not?"</p> <p>Tomi considered this, but only briefly. She returned to cleaning her scope.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Background:</strong> In 1964, SCP-████ ("Mountainvale Chemical Ltd.") began operations in the United States. After an unsuccessful foray in fertilizers, the small company began manufacturing what would later be classified as SCP-████-1 instances.</p> <p>The first SCP-████-1 instance was discovered by a Department of Analytics team looking into SCP-048's increasing instability, and subsequently taken in for testing. Wrap-3 thaumaturgic analysis determined that the anomaly exhibited severe T7RE capabilities, which were thankfully latent.</p> <p>Investigation quickly located SCP-████ as the source of the produced items, and the company was forcefully shuttered via Foundation Emergency Acquisition Protocols. No employees of the company were found to have connections to the anomalous; an inspection of the manufacturing facility determined the anomalous properties were an extremely unlikely coincidence from the peculiar ley line alignment in the area. (A landfill was later constructed at the location to prevent similar issues in the future.)</p> <p>Due to the T7RE capabilities of the anomalous instances, containment was deemed a high priority. Experimental models by the Foundation Department of the Treasury showed that creation of securities based on such objects could be used to significantly manipulate market states.</p> <p>Since then, the Foundation has sold bonds based on SCP-████-1 instances to cooperating world governments, which has formed the basis of Foundation monetary policy. Provided that instances remain stable and accounted for, the Department of the Treasury is able to issue sufficient debt for any conceivable Foundation expensive (such as rebuilding after a K-class scenario).</p> </blockquote> <p>The quiet cold of Area-529 gave way to a massive explosion. Immediately, security sensors identified the intrusion and sent in all nearby armed robots. After a group of several dozen had gathered, a second explosion rocked the scene, knocking them out of commission. Three catgirls appeared from the smoke, running and gunning down the hall.</p> <p>They felt confident: onboard <em>Solidarity</em> they had found some truly unusual weaponry. And of course, it's not like Momoko could resist anything with the word "experimental" on it that threatened to make things explode.</p> <p>The facility's alarm system went into effect, with flashing lights and shrieking sounds to disorient intruders. At least it did until Nanami, back on the ship, hooked into it. She had been hoping to unleash a particularly potent anti-Foundation cognitohazard onto some lackeys, but the facility sadly seemed to have mostly automated security. Instead it was the girls on the ground having the fun, lighting up the metallic cannon fodder and turning them to sparks and shredded metal.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Site Security Procedure:</strong> Regular site patrols are conducted according to Level-5 Inanimate Object Containment Protocols, with an Addendum-3B modification for a mostly-automated security force. Maintenance is performed by two mechanics on-site, with an annual check-up of all site security equipment by a group flown in from Site-54.</p> <p>No testing or contact of any kind with SCP-████-1 is permitted:</p> <p>Each instance is in a separate case with a self-destruct mechanism in case of tampering. This container must be disabled before any physical inspection of the item is possible; the security key for doing so is maintained at O5 clearance.</p> <p>No disposable cutlery of any kind is allowed in Area-529.</p> </blockquote> <p>Another round of drones filtered in the hall, which were quickly dispatched by strange blue flame.</p> <p>Momoko lifted the device, a strange hybrid between a flamethrower and a minigun. "You know, this is pretty great! And I've never seen this many of these things before. Their exploding guts look way better than those normal bots."</p> <p>"Honestly, I think these weapons are a bit <em>too</em> strong. Maybe we should save them for crucial operations or defense instead," Boss speculated, before awkwardly fingering the device, trying to reload.</p> <p><tt>[Nanami: They've run out this floor, you have a couple minutes until reinforcements arrive.]</tt></p> <p>The girls nodded and quickly but carefully ran down the hall, turning at the door Nanami said had the goods. After quickly dispatching a surprised security guard, they had the room to themselves. Shelves and shelves with suitcases and suitcases, all identical, save for a small numeric label on each. They were mostly there to just wreak shit, and so grabbed only a few as Hana worked on the recall portal.</p> <p>Nanami noticed an interesting command in the Area-529 console.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Recovery:</strong> Personnel analyzed SCP-████'s order logs to identify the location of every instance of SCP-████-1. Fortunately, only 20,000 such items were produced, and were primarily shipped to small communities in the Idaho and Oregon. Recovery teams were able to identify the chain of custody of every item, which are noted below. Due to the nature of the object, in several cases non-anomalous replacements were not required.</p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Status</th> <th>Quantity</th> </tr> <tr> <td>Contained</td> <td>18,373</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Destroyed</td> <td>1,624</td> </tr> <tr> <td>Unknown</td> <td>3</td> </tr> </table> <p>It is not believed any lost instances are in the possession of hostile groups of interest, or if they are, the significance of the objects is not understood.</p> <p><strong>UPDATE:</strong> The above table is no longer accurate. See below.</p> </blockquote> <p>The Overseers shuffled into the meeting room. It was rare to have so many of them meet in person, since the advent of secure teleconferencing software it was considered safer to have them physically far apart.</p> <p>O5-7 began. "I don't know how to break it to you all, this isn't good. We're monitoring our assets but there's a chance that, depending on how this plays out, we could end up broke."</p> <p>"And we can't cover this up, Norway already knows about the breach and they've already told others," O5-10 added, closing his laptop. "Besides any kind of covert action on this would mess up the financial situation anyways."</p> <p>"If things get really bad, maybe we could lease those exploder skips to the Pentagram? They've been trying to steal the tech for years anyways, and we know they're flush with cash."</p> <p>Predictably, arguments began to break out.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Incident "Metal Seedling":</strong> On 20██/12/20, <a href="/scp-2117">SCP-2117</a> unexpectedly appeared in the vicinity of Armed Area-529. No prior detection of the object was detected, and neither security forces nor missile defense systems were prepared.</p> <p>A number of individuals associated with the Black Rabbit Company proceeded into the main holding hall of the facility, where a gunfight ensued. Reinforcements from other Foundation sites were requested, but did not arrive in time.</p> <p>The Area-529 oversight mainframe made the unexpected decision of self-destructing. It is speculated that this was done to destroy SCP-2117 or members of the group of interest, but due to the high value of SCP-████-1, this does not match internal simulations. Investigation is ongoing.</p> <p>Other than an unknown number of stolen instances, all contained SCP-████-1 material was destroyed along with Area-529. As there is no clear contingency plan in the event of an unplanned detonation, further action is pending execution approval.</p> </blockquote> <p>The girls gathered around their haul. A couple dozen suitcases, each filled with identical transparent devices. Boss picked one up: it looked a bit those anti-theft containers that department stores kept SD cards and other small items in. A slim but intimidating locking mechanism was attached to the bottom.</p> <p>"It's… they're just a plastic spoons?" Tomi paused. "Why did they have a bunch of these all locked up?"</p> <p>Nanami connected the hastily-rigged cracking device and connected it to the device. While it would normally take a few hours to figure out an answer, it unlocked immediately.</p> <p>"Wait! Shi—oh." Boss interjected. "It said it had a self-destruct on login failure, but…"</p> <p>Nanami cocked her head, then looked at the device. The matched key was all zeroes.</p> <p>"I think they fucked something up with the programming here, heh."</p> <p>Hana looked towards her sisters, then at the box. "Uh Boss, what exactly are we going to do with these?"</p> <p>Momoko shrugged and grabbed the spoon.</p> <p>"Well, whatever it is, we have some," she said, while opening up a cup of custard pudding. She stuck it in and took a bite.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/stealing-something-else">Stealing Something Else</a>" by aismallard, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/stealing-something-else">https://scpwiki.com/stealing-something-else</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > Name: Armed Area-529 > > Location: Barentsøya, Svalbard > > Status: Inactive > > Summary: Foundation Area-529 is located underground on the island of Barentsøya, an officially-uninhabited island part of the Svalbard archipelago, which is considered to be part of Norway. It was created in 1958 to provide a sustainable containment solution for SCP-████-1 instances. > > The facility is staffed with 110 armed personnel and 14,000 security drones who maintain a 24/7 watch. Human personnel are amnesticized and cycled out annually to ensure that they remain on high alert. Directors of nearby Foundation facilities do not have clearance to know of Area-529, but instead have special instructions to provide emergency backup in the case of a hostile incursion. > > Due to climate treaties and concerns about disruption to normalcy, the Area is not equipped with a nuclear warhead, but rather has a fail-safe Dolbuss Vacuum Sink in the event of a catastrophic breach. The device has been configured to disguise the destroyed facility as unexpected glacier movement. //Solidarity// sailed into the night. Or, rather, the sky, but so far above the equator it was always nighttime this time of year. "I still can't believe we pulled that off. How did you even find that place?" Nanami grinned. "Remember the other day, when Boss took that meeting? It was the Chaos Insurgency." Tomi nodded. "What did they want?" "Something to help them against the Foundation. We told 'em to go to hell, but since they gave us the site schematics 'n' shit, I guess they thought we'd fight, I told her, hey why not?" Tomi considered this, but only briefly. She returned to cleaning her scope. > Background: In 1964, SCP-████ ("Mountainvale Chemical Ltd.") began operations in the United States. After an unsuccessful foray in fertilizers, the small company began manufacturing what would later be classified as SCP-████-1 instances. > > The first SCP-████-1 instance was discovered by a Department of Analytics team looking into SCP-048's increasing instability, and subsequently taken in for testing. Wrap-3 thaumaturgic analysis determined that the anomaly exhibited severe T7RE capabilities, which were thankfully latent. > > Investigation quickly located SCP-████ as the source of the produced items, and the company was forcefully shuttered via Foundation Emergency Acquisition Protocols. No employees of the company were found to have connections to the anomalous; an inspection of the manufacturing facility determined the anomalous properties were an extremely unlikely coincidence from the peculiar ley line alignment in the area. (A landfill was later constructed at the location to prevent similar issues in the future.) > > Due to the T7RE capabilities of the anomalous instances, containment was deemed a high priority. Experimental models by the Foundation Department of the Treasury showed that creation of securities based on such objects could be used to significantly manipulate market states. > > Since then, the Foundation has sold bonds based on SCP-████-1 instances to cooperating world governments, which has formed the basis of Foundation monetary policy. Provided that instances remain stable and accounted for, the Department of the Treasury is able to issue sufficient debt for any conceivable Foundation expensive (such as rebuilding after a K-class scenario). The quiet cold of Area-529 gave way to a massive explosion. Immediately, security sensors identified the intrusion and sent in all nearby armed robots. After a group of several dozen had gathered, a second explosion rocked the scene, knocking them out of commission. Three catgirls appeared from the smoke, running and gunning down the hall. They felt confident: onboard //Solidarity// they had found some truly unusual weaponry. And of course, it's not like Momoko could resist anything with the word "experimental" on it that threatened to make things explode. The facility's alarm system went into effect, with flashing lights and shrieking sounds to disorient intruders. At least it did until Nanami, back on the ship, hooked into it. She had been hoping to unleash a particularly potent anti-Foundation cognitohazard onto some lackeys, but the facility sadly seemed to have mostly automated security. Instead it was the girls on the ground having the fun, lighting up the metallic cannon fodder and turning them to sparks and shredded metal. > Site Security Procedure: Regular site patrols are conducted according to Level-5 Inanimate Object Containment Protocols, with an Addendum-3B modification for a mostly-automated security force. Maintenance is performed by two mechanics on-site, with an annual check-up of all site security equipment by a group flown in from Site-54. > > No testing or contact of any kind with SCP-████-1 is permitted: > > Each instance is in a separate case with a self-destruct mechanism in case of tampering. This container must be disabled before any physical inspection of the item is possible; the security key for doing so is maintained at O5 clearance. > > No disposable cutlery of any kind is allowed in Area-529. Another round of drones filtered in the hall, which were quickly dispatched by strange blue flame. Momoko lifted the device, a strange hybrid between a flamethrower and a minigun. "You know, this is pretty great! And I've never seen this many of these things before. Their exploding guts look way better than those normal bots." "Honestly, I think these weapons are a bit //too// strong. Maybe we should save them for crucial operations or defense instead," Boss speculated, before awkwardly fingering the device, trying to reload. {{[Nanami: They've run out this floor, you have a couple minutes until reinforcements arrive.]}} The girls nodded and quickly but carefully ran down the hall, turning at the door Nanami said had the goods. After quickly dispatching a surprised security guard, they had the room to themselves. Shelves and shelves with suitcases and suitcases, all identical, save for a small numeric label on each. They were mostly there to just wreak shit, and so grabbed only a few as Hana worked on the recall portal. Nanami noticed an interesting command in the Area-529 console. > Recovery: Personnel analyzed SCP-████'s order logs to identify the location of every instance of SCP-████-1. Fortunately, only 20,000 such items were produced, and were primarily shipped to small communities in the Idaho and Oregon. Recovery teams were able to identify the chain of custody of every item, which are noted below. Due to the nature of the object, in several cases non-anomalous replacements were not required. > > \|\|~ Status \|\|~ Quantity \|\| > \|\| Contained \|\| 18,373 \|\| > \|\| Destroyed \|\| 1,624 \|\| > \|\| Unknown \|\| 3 \|\| > > It is not believed any lost instances are in the possession of hostile groups of interest, or if they are, the significance of the objects is not understood. > > UPDATE: The above table is no longer accurate. See below. The Overseers shuffled into the meeting room. It was rare to have so many of them meet in person, since the advent of secure teleconferencing software it was considered safer to have them physically far apart. O5-7 began. "I don't know how to break it to you all, this isn't good. We're monitoring our assets but there's a chance that, depending on how this plays out, we could end up broke." "And we can't cover this up, Norway already knows about the breach and they've already told others," O5-10 added, closing his laptop. "Besides any kind of covert action on this would mess up the financial situation anyways." "If things get really bad, maybe we could lease those exploder skips to the Pentagram? They've been trying to steal the tech for years anyways, and we know they're flush with cash." Predictably, arguments began to break out. > Incident "Metal Seedling": On 20██/12/20, [[[SCP-2117]]] unexpectedly appeared in the vicinity of Armed Area-529. No prior detection of the object was detected, and neither security forces nor missile defense systems were prepared. > > A number of individuals associated with the Black Rabbit Company proceeded into the main holding hall of the facility, where a gunfight ensued. Reinforcements from other Foundation sites were requested, but did not arrive in time. > > The Area-529 oversight mainframe made the unexpected decision of self-destructing. It is speculated that this was done to destroy SCP-2117 or members of the group of interest, but due to the high value of SCP-████-1, this does not match internal simulations. Investigation is ongoing. > > Other than an unknown number of stolen instances, all contained SCP-████-1 material was destroyed along with Area-529. As there is no clear contingency plan in the event of an unplanned detonation, further action is pending execution approval. The girls gathered around their haul. A couple dozen suitcases, each filled with identical transparent devices. Boss picked one up: it looked a bit those anti-theft containers that department stores kept SD cards and other small items in. A slim but intimidating locking mechanism was attached to the bottom. "It's... they're just a plastic spoons?" Tomi paused. "Why did they have a bunch of these all locked up?" Nanami connected the hastily-rigged cracking device and connected it to the device. While it would normally take a few hours to figure out an answer, it unlocked immediately. "Wait! Shi--oh." Boss interjected. "It said it had a self-destruct on login failure, but..." Nanami cocked her head, then looked at the device. The matched key was all zeroes. "I think they fucked something up with the programming here, heh." Hana looked towards her sisters, then at the box. "Uh Boss, what exactly are we going to do with these?" Momoko shrugged and grabbed the spoon. "Well, whatever it is, we have some," she said, while opening up a cup of custard pudding. She stuck it in and took a bite. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-06T23:39:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "black-rabbit-company", "tale" ]	Stealing Something Else - SCP Foundation	16	[ "scp-2117", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "stealingsolidarityhub", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1445406660	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/stealing-something-else
stephane-the-apostles-epistle-to-the-palmyrene	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Chapter 1</span></h1> <p><sup>1</sup>To Marcius, Archdeacon of the Church in Palmyra, Bishop Caneaous, the elders Myron and Joycelen, most especially my beloved Brother Callista, and all our brethren therein assembled, I write Peace.</p> <p><sup>2</sup>I pray Peace, Love, Absolution, Lust, and Perfection to you, from my travels abroad. <sup>3</sup>Brother Lucion, who still travels with me, also sends his Peace, Love, Absolution, and Lust. <sup>4</sup>You will see he has grown since our last writing, when he could only pray you the Three. <sup>5</sup>Beloved brethren his eyes have been open<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> to the Fourth, of the Lust of the river and the Stars. <sup>6</sup>I am overjoyed to say that he Lusts boldly for the continuum of the cosmos, and gropes hungrily for the stuffing<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> of the millennia. <sup>7</sup>He feasts on your prayers to the Stars for Lucion’s journey upwards, and devours your Third<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup> hearts in hope that he might see the Fifth!</p> <p><sup>8</sup>What now is left is his journey to the Perfect, a journey which we travel together parallel to our substantive journey, down these roads and pathways, speaking the Fifth to all who will listen, and to many who will not, and to some who have already, but not yet.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup></p> <h1 id="toc1"><span>Chapter 2</span></h1> <p><sup>1</sup>It is Perfection which causes me to write, as to the fate<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup> of the heresy in Cappadocia. <sup>2</sup>In your own days, I admonish you, do not be like the Cappadocians, who speak untruths about a Singular Perfection. <sup>3</sup>I decree that they are no longer our Brethren, and are to be shunned<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup> and all. <sup>4</sup>By my Apostolic heart, I urge you to turn inside out any amongst you who speak their lies on their tongues or in their hearts. <sup>5</sup>Turn away from them, again, turn away!<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-7" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-7')">7</a></sup> <sup>6</sup>Keep focused on the True Perfection, which is open to all, which is becoming of all, and which all are becoming on our paths to the Fifth. Be in perfection as I am in perfection, and I shall be in you as you are in me, my beloved Church. <sup>7</sup>As the Prophetess Sinea wrote in the Scriptures, <em>‘The Fifth is of and with us all. Be perfect until you cannot be more at all.’</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-8" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-8')">8</a></sup></p> <h1 id="toc2"><span>Chapter 3</span></h1> <p><sup>1</sup>But lo, I hear your questions though you have not yet asked them.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-9" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-9')">9</a></sup> Beloved Apostle, you say, how can I be Perfect if my brother is Perfect? <sup>2</sup>Would not one of us be imperfect in the wake of the other? <sup>3</sup>And furthermore, if the Starfish is in its Perfection, then must we all, in our diminution, be imperfect?</p> <p><sup>4</sup>Hear these words of I, your Apostle, and engulf them in the flame of your souls until they take their righteous place in your phenomenological landscape, for they are the Truth, and I am in them, and being in them, am in you.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-10" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-10')">10</a></sup></p> <p><sup>5</sup>It is this simple: one being Perfect does not preclude another from being the same.</p> <p><sup>6</sup>Allow me to speak in parable; I shall use the Fourth to shine light on the Fifth, in honor of Brother Lucion’s upheaval. <sup>7</sup>As you are, I am certain, assembled in the holy place<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-11" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-11')">11</a></sup>, where our mindsets flee our souls to dance and enshrine the same, I tell you to behold your brother, my beloved Callista. <sup>8</sup>I submit that he has a perfect body. <sup>9</sup>The type already dreamt of, even before it is seen, and that, once so seen, holds the mind in a constant stranglehold from which thoughts of anything else struggle to escape. <sup>10</sup>The type of body that in an instant inspires your beatified Lust to drive you to sickness.</p> <p><sup>11</sup>Behold, and feel everything you are inside trying to heave<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-12" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-12')">12</a></sup> itself out of you, not from revulsion, but rather the carnal opposite, where the mind, heart, soul, spirit, and body look upon another bearing such brilliance, such beauty, such wit, such grace, and yes, such shape, that the stomach of the viewer cannot summon enough ennobled Lust to match the object thereof, and indeed turns in on itself in the attempt to properly digest the perfection it beholds.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-13')">13</a></sup></p> <p><sup>12</sup>Now, some of you might be agreeing with me [and to those of you I express my sincere condolences.]<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-14" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-14')">14</a></sup> <sup>13</sup>Others of you, I can see with my outstretched faculty, are feeling the same, but for another of your brethren. <sup>14</sup>And you are certainly saying, as the Cappadocians might say, ‘but Apostle, surely there cannot be two people with perfect bodies, by definition, one must be more perfect than the other?’ <sup>15</sup>Unwrap your mind and fathom: when one has seen the perfect sunset, does that mean one can never see the perfect sunrise? <sup>16</sup>Certainly not! <sup>17</sup>And yet, both of these things are equally perfect! <sup>18</sup>Even as holy Lust informs us that the beloved Callista’s possession of the perfect ass does not preclude another possessing a faultless posterior!<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-15" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-15')">15</a></sup></p> <h1 id="toc3"><span>Chapter 4</span></h1> <p><sup>1</sup>The false ulterior culture teaches us, from a young age, that someone or something must be the greatest, the most laudatory. <sup>2</sup>I say this is a false perception, the teachings of the false Gods of merit and progress, who live not in our immensity, but their base, noetic hole. <sup>3</sup>For I inquisit of you this! <sup>4</sup>Is one arm of the Starfish more Perfect than the others? <sup>5</sup>Do four arms bow and genuflect towards the one? <sup>6</sup>No! They are all five Perfect, because the Starfish is Perfect, and if the Starfish is Perfect, then by nature all parts of It<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-16" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-16')">16</a></sup> must be as well.</p> <p><sup>7</sup>I tell you this as a message of joy! <sup>8</sup>For just as the whole of believers is part of the Starfish, therefor must the whole of believers also be Perfect!</p> <p><sup>9</sup>And as the whole is Perfect, so are its five expressions.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-17" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-17')">17</a></sup> <sup>10</sup>And as part of our expression, we thereunto must all, each one, possess the prospect of achieving Perfection.</p> <h1 id="toc4"><span>Chapter 5</span></h1> <p><sup>1</sup>Let the fallen brethren of Cappadocia be anathema.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-18" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-18')">18</a></sup> <sup>2</sup>I condemn their false gods of progress, merit, selection, competition, and regret! <sup>3</sup>Turn only to the truths of Peace, Love, Absolution, Lust, and Perfection. <sup>4</sup>Be as an arm of the Starfish. <sup>5</sup>A Perfect being amongst Perfect beings, and work together so that the whole of believers might shine forth the light of Perfection for all the world to see.</p> <hr/> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. alt. <em>opened</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. or <em>fisting</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. Use of <em>third</em> here implies the church at Palmyra was in the throws of Absolution. This helps date the writing of this epistle to 67-72 A.D.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Some codices have <em>can be already</em>, which is the interpretation referenced in <em>Star Signals</em> 6:2v12</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. or <em>nature</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. or <em>undone</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-7"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-7')">7</a>. Possible origin of the <em>Avertat</em>, however predates its use in liturgy by 200 years.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-8"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-8')">8</a>. 11 Sin. 5:17</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-9"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-9')">9</a>. tense is Present Literal; translates in some codices as <em>I am amongst your questions</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-10"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-10')">10</a>. Tense used is the same Present Literal as 3:1</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-11"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-11')">11</a>. lit. <em>λουτρό</em>, or <em>house of cleansing</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-12"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-12')">12</a>. lit. <em>ρεύομαι</em>, or <em>retch</em></div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-13"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-13')">13</a>. ref. Jerboam 3:17-18</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-14"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-14')">14</a>. Does not appear until later codices, first in the Cretean Codex of 377 A.D., may be transcriber's annotation erroneously included in later copies.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-15"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-15')">15</a>. lit. <em>posteri</em>, or <em>posters</em>, used incorrectly here. Intent inferred.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-16"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-16')">16</a>. lit. <em>είναι</em>, or <em>It Is</em>. Imperfect name of the Starfish in common use in the early Anatolian churches. The correct name is substituted here.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-17"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-17')">17</a>. lit. <em>φράσεις</em>, or <em>phrases</em>. Only Stephanine reference to the <em>Explicatio</em>. If intentional, indicates author was in contact with the Poets of Alexandria, who are not otherwise attested by historians until 157 A.D.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-18"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-18')">18</a>. Uncharacteristic reiteration of earlier message. Whole chapter does not appear in some codices. Abrupt tonal shift from Apostolic to Homiletic rhetoric implies it may have been added at a later time, to bring the epistle in line with later quinary structures.</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/stephane-the-apostles-epistle-to-the-palmyrene">Stephane The Apostle's Epistle To The Palmyrene</a>" by DrScaramouche, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/stephane-the-apostles-epistle-to-the-palmyrene">https://scpwiki.com/stephane-the-apostles-epistle-to-the-palmyrene</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[>]] [[include <a href="/component:ratio-bar">component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] [[/>]] + Chapter 1 ^^1^^To Marcius, Archdeacon of the Church in Palmyra, Bishop Caneaous, the elders Myron and Joycelen, most especially my beloved Brother Callista, and all our brethren therein assembled, I write Peace. ^^2^^I pray Peace, Love, Absolution, Lust, and Perfection to you, from my travels abroad. ^^3^^Brother Lucion, who still travels with me, also sends his Peace, Love, Absolution, and Lust. ^^4^^You will see he has grown since our last writing, when he could only pray you the Three. ^^5^^Beloved brethren his eyes have been open[[footnote]] alt. //opened// [[/footnote]] to the Fourth, of the Lust of the river and the Stars. ^^6^^I am overjoyed to say that he Lusts boldly for the continuum of the cosmos, and gropes hungrily for the stuffing[[footnote]] or //fisting// [[/footnote]] of the millennia. ^^7^^He feasts on your prayers to the Stars for Lucion’s journey upwards, and devours your Third[[footnote]] Use of //third// here implies the church at Palmyra was in the throws of Absolution. This helps date the writing of this epistle to 67-72 A.D. [[/footnote]] hearts in hope that he might see the Fifth! ^^8^^What now is left is his journey to the Perfect, a journey which we travel together parallel to our substantive journey, down these roads and pathways, speaking the Fifth to all who will listen, and to many who will not, and to some who have already, but not yet.[[footnote]] Some codices have //can be already//, which is the interpretation referenced in //Star Signals// 6:2v12 [[/footnote]] + Chapter 2 ^^1^^It is Perfection which causes me to write, as to the fate[[footnote]] or //nature// [[/footnote]] of the heresy in Cappadocia. ^^2^^In your own days, I admonish you, do not be like the Cappadocians, who speak untruths about a Singular Perfection. ^^3^^I decree that they are no longer our Brethren, and are to be shunned[[footnote]] or //undone// [[/footnote]] and all. ^^4^^By my Apostolic heart, I urge you to turn inside out any amongst you who speak their lies on their tongues or in their hearts. ^^5^^Turn away from them, again, turn away![[footnote]] Possible origin of the //Avertat//, however predates its use in liturgy by 200 years. [[/footnote]] ^^6^^Keep focused on the True Perfection, which is open to all, which is becoming of all, and which all are becoming on our paths to the Fifth. Be in perfection as I am in perfection, and I shall be in you as you are in me, my beloved Church. ^^7^^As the Prophetess Sinea wrote in the Scriptures, //‘The Fifth is of and with us all. Be perfect until you cannot be more at all.’//[[footnote]] 11 Sin. 5:17 [[/footnote]] + Chapter 3 ^^1^^But lo, I hear your questions though you have not yet asked them.[[footnote]]tense is Present Literal; translates in some codices as //I am amongst your questions// [[/footnote]] Beloved Apostle, you say, how can I be Perfect if my brother is Perfect? ^^2^^Would not one of us be imperfect in the wake of the other? ^^3^^And furthermore, if the Starfish is in its Perfection, then must we all, in our diminution, be imperfect? ^^4^^Hear these words of I, your Apostle, and engulf them in the flame of your souls until they take their righteous place in your phenomenological landscape, for they are the Truth, and I am in them, and being in them, am in you.[[footnote]] Tense used is the same Present Literal as 3:1[[/footnote]] ^^5^^It is this simple: one being Perfect does not preclude another from being the same. ^^6^^Allow me to speak in parable; I shall use the Fourth to shine light on the Fifth, in honor of Brother Lucion’s upheaval. ^^7^^As you are, I am certain, assembled in the holy place[[footnote]] lit. //λουτρό//, or //house of cleansing// [[/footnote]], where our mindsets flee our souls to dance and enshrine the same, I tell you to behold your brother, my beloved Callista. ^^8^^I submit that he has a perfect body. ^^9^^The type already dreamt of, even before it is seen, and that, once so seen, holds the mind in a constant stranglehold from which thoughts of anything else struggle to escape. ^^10^^The type of body that in an instant inspires your beatified Lust to drive you to sickness. ^^11^^Behold, and feel everything you are inside trying to heave[[footnote]] lit. //ρεύομαι//, or //retch// [[/footnote]] itself out of you, not from revulsion, but rather the carnal opposite, where the mind, heart, soul, spirit, and body look upon another bearing such brilliance, such beauty, such wit, such grace, and yes, such shape, that the stomach of the viewer cannot summon enough ennobled Lust to match the object thereof, and indeed turns in on itself in the attempt to properly digest the perfection it beholds.[[footnote]] ref. Jerboam 3:17-18 [[/footnote]] ^^12^^Now, some of you might be agreeing with me [and to those of you I express my sincere condolences.][[footnote]] Does not appear until later codices, first in the Cretean Codex of 377 A.D., may be transcriber's annotation erroneously included in later copies. [[/footnote]] ^^13^^Others of you, I can see with my outstretched faculty, are feeling the same, but for another of your brethren. ^^14^^And you are certainly saying, as the Cappadocians might say, ‘but Apostle, surely there cannot be two people with perfect bodies, by definition, one must be more perfect than the other?’ ^^15^^Unwrap your mind and fathom: when one has seen the perfect sunset, does that mean one can never see the perfect sunrise? ^^16^^Certainly not! ^^17^^And yet, both of these things are equally perfect! ^^18^^Even as holy Lust informs us that the beloved Callista’s possession of the perfect ass does not preclude another possessing a faultless posterior![[footnote]] lit. //posteri//, or //posters//, used incorrectly here. Intent inferred. [[/footnote]] + Chapter 4 ^^1^^The false ulterior culture teaches us, from a young age, that someone or something must be the greatest, the most laudatory. ^^2^^I say this is a false perception, the teachings of the false Gods of merit and progress, who live not in our immensity, but their base, noetic hole. ^^3^^For I inquisit of you this! ^^4^^Is one arm of the Starfish more Perfect than the others? ^^5^^Do four arms bow and genuflect towards the one? ^^6^^No! They are all five Perfect, because the Starfish is Perfect, and if the Starfish is Perfect, then by nature all parts of It[[footnote]] lit. //είναι//, or //It Is//. Imperfect name of the Starfish in common use in the early Anatolian churches. The correct name is substituted here. [[/footnote]] must be as well. ^^7^^I tell you this as a message of joy! ^^8^^For just as the whole of believers is part of the Starfish, therefor must the whole of believers also be Perfect! ^^9^^And as the whole is Perfect, so are its five expressions.[[footnote]] lit. //φράσεις//, or //phrases//. Only Stephanine reference to the //Explicatio//. If intentional, indicates author was in contact with the Poets of Alexandria, who are not otherwise attested by historians until 157 A.D. [[/footnote]] ^^10^^And as part of our expression, we thereunto must all, each one, possess the prospect of achieving Perfection. + Chapter 5 ^^1^^Let the fallen brethren of Cappadocia be anathema.[[footnote]] Uncharacteristic reiteration of earlier message. Whole chapter does not appear in some codices. Abrupt tonal shift from Apostolic to Homiletic rhetoric implies it may have been added at a later time, to bring the epistle in line with later quinary structures. [[/footnote]] ^^2^^I condemn their false gods of progress, merit, selection, competition, and regret! ^^3^^Turn only to the truths of Peace, Love, Absolution, Lust, and Perfection. ^^4^^Be as an arm of the Starfish. ^^5^^A Perfect being amongst Perfect beings, and work together so that the whole of believers might shine forth the light of Perfection for all the world to see. ------ [[=]] [[html]] <iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VVEGzrsVeMo" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe> [[/html]] [[/=]] [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-02T18:46:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "fifthist", "tale", "video" ]	Stephane The Apostle's Epistle To The Palmyrene - SCP Foundation	25	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "fifthist-hub" ]	[]	1445376173	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/stephane-the-apostles-epistle-to-the-palmyrene
stone-sea-sky	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> The night sweeps over the city skyline like a janitor who passed out for an hour or two and needs to make up for lost time. The time: just after 9:00 PM, or 12:00 if you're in a different part of the globe. The place: the den of scum and villainy itself, Albuquerque. 32nd most populated city in the United States, and the most populated in New Mexico. Founded in 1706, but now home to many modern companies for technology and gourmet cuisine, and likely full of many other interesting details not on the first section of its Wikipedia entry. Regardless, on this particular night, and probably on a lot of other nights, the scum of the city run rampant. Free to sate their horrid desires through theft, murder, and jaywalking. <p>The city needs a savior. But who? Turn your gaze, if you will, to the roof of the 500 Marquette, the fourth tallest building in Albuquerque. On it, two unlikely allies sit and contemplate matters of the world.</p> <p>"Truly a perplexing confectionary my good friend, tell me, what do you call it again?"</p> <p>The first vagabond speaks. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1233">A man far from his home</a>, but always in the presence of friends. Despite the tinted glass of his visor, his kind face can almost be made out. Of course, not by his companion, who responds, as always, oblivious to all details.</p> <p>"Tha right thare's a wat we call a Bloomin' Onion. Top ah tha line Aussie meal!"</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7124">Dear god, is that really his voice?</a> Sorry, that just sent me for a loop. Can you give me just a second?</p> <p><span style="font-size:small;"><em>Is this really the best we could get? Sure it's been slow lately, but there has to be something.<br/> …<br/> Yeah, I know, but<br/> …<br/> Well there's no need to be harsh about it<br/> …<br/> Fine, I'll do it.</em></span></p> <p>My apologies about that. Now, turn your attention, if you will, to the conference between these two figures of power, both with their own discrete agendas, which over the course of the back and forth dance of persuasion they will subtly manipulate the other into obeying.</p> <p>"Kindly sir, will you aid me in fighting the Moon Monsters?"</p> <p>Or not.</p> <p>"Wat in tha name a' Edmund Bahton is a Moon Monstah?"</p> <p>"I see. I seek your forgiveness in the haste of my inquiry. I hail from a land far from here."</p> <p>"Me too mate. I'm from down undah."</p> <p>"I, on the other hand, am from up over. The moon that rises over this city is my home, and this home is under threat. Monstrosities are attacking my people, and so I as the Moon Champion have come to this planet seeking warriors to save my people. Will you join me in this quest?"</p> <p>With such a significant question, posing a potential great burden, any reasonable listener would take time to contemplate the ramifications of their decision.</p> <p>"Sounds cool mate, I'm in."</p> <p>I'm not even surprised at this point.</p> <p>"What absolute sublimity! Let us leave right away."</p> <p>"Sorry mate, yah mean naw? I'd have ta tell my parents first an' ask tha doctahs. They'd be mad if I went an' left tha planet without askin'."</p> <p>"So, you have certain commitments to this world that you cannot forsake?"</p> <p>"Well don't everyone? Surely ya got people ya miss a' home?"</p> <p>But before the star wanderer could give an answer, the beast master noticed a voice calling to him, calling for aid.</p> <p>"Do ya heah that?"</p> <p>"Ah yes, the noise of the city. Filled with pedestrians and what your people call 'airplanes'."</p> <p>"Nah mate, I'm talkin' about tha dinahs. They're callin' ta me."</p> <p>"I cannot say I am familiar with these 'dinahs', I have always been more partial to dogs myself. But lead the way, brave stranger!"</p> <p>With that said, the two travelers made their way with haste to the prize jewel of the city, the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science, only to witness it ablaze. Some dastardly criminal had set a fire within the building, and it was up to our brave heroes to save the day before everyone's favorite hub of culture and knowledge burned to the ground. The champion picked the Ridah up and flew, albeit in a rather roundabout path, to the scene of the crime.</p> <p>Upon their arrival, the two saw <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4601">what appeared to be a fire truck</a> already fighting the blaze. However, as a voice called out from it, they knew it was anything but normal.</p> <p>"Hey! Get down from there ya flying men, this is no place for civilians!"</p> <p>"Apologies kind plane, we shall be leaving at once."</p> <p>"What are ya doin' Moon Man? Hey truck, we're heah ta help!"</p> <p>The pair set down on the ground beside the vehicular firefighter. All three looked at each other, but only one had a visible set of eyes. The air would be silent if not for all the noise. It was like when you're in a crowded room and everyone just so happens to go quiet at the same time, and no one wants to be the first person to start talking again because your conversation was really weird out of context and you don't want to explain to everyone why you know the name of the first convicted cannibal in Colorado, Alferd Packer. So you all just sit around until one annoying kid shouts "awkward!" and you hate that kid, but you also acknowledge that without their help, you would be trapped in that state for the rest of your natural life, so you have to give him some begrudging level of respect.</p> <p>Yeah, it was a lot like that. Everyone waiting for the least tactful person to make a move.</p> <p>"G'day mate! My name's Grant, but ya can call me tha Dinah Ridah."</p> <p>And there he is.</p> <p>"I'm <strong>Bigg Redd</strong>, if you're here to help, then do it already!"</p> <p>"And I am the Moon Champion. I'm looking for brave warriors to help me save my land from—"</p> <p>"Quit your yapping and get in there! These fires aren't going to stop themselves."</p> <p>"I'll take that as a maybe!"</p> <p>So, the two non-mechanical individuals ran into the burning building, right past the ticket booth. They, of course, left money to be collected in the morning to pay for their admission, $7.00 for the terrestrial man and $6.00 for the lunar one (senior discount). However, while the fire was coming from upstairs, as the two went into the atrium, they saw signs tempting them away from their goal.</p> <p>The trainer of ancient beasts saw, just past the stairs to the left, a sign pointing to the Fossilworks. Drawn by a force he couldn't describe, he walked down the hallway past the temporary exhibit on the history of chocolate and into the treasure trove. New Mexico, had a wide array of fossils on display at this museum. Feeling the heat and the smoke slowly fill the room, he became concerned for their well being.</p> <p>A nurturing soul at heart, one who cares deeply about these prehistoric animals, the gentle man reached out his hand to soothe the fossils. Shells, ferns, and plaster casts of femurs, all dinosaurs to him, all scared and huddled together as he carefully reassured them. "It'll be alright mates. It'll all be alright."</p> <p>Down the other path, in a straight line from the entrance, the other individual saw strange images of his homeland. As he walked, not entranced, but curious, into the large dark room, the dome at the top sprung to life and a mechanical voice began to speak.</p> <p>"Our moon."</p> <p>"Your moon? Ah, I see, a fellow traveller from my home land. Fear not, for I, Moon Champion, am here to aid you."</p> <p>"Called by the ancients by many names, including Selene, Luna, and Mani. Seen by us every night, but how much do we really know about our closest neighbor in the sky?"</p> <p>"While these humans may be ignorant, you and I know a great deal, do we not?"</p> <p>Images of the moon's surface began to move across the dome of the planetarium. The screen slowly zoomed in on craters and mountains, confusing the sole witness in the room.</p> <p>"Over 200,000 miles away, and yet close enough to control the planets tides every day."</p> <p>"Very interesting."</p> <p>The champion took a seat in one of the many empty chairs and craned his neck upward to watch the presentation.</p> <p>Suddenly, a great crash could be heard from upstairs. The one watching a presentation was unconcerned, but the one who had something to fight for ran up to see what was happening.</p> <p>"Sweet Sydney Opera House!"</p> <p>What he saw was the fire truck he spoke with earlier. On the second floor. Hosing down a scrawny man in a hoodie.</p> <p>"How dare you try to spread the scourge of fire to this beautiful city!"</p> <p>"What are ya doin' mate? How did ya even get heah?"</p> <p>"That's what the ladder's for. The better question is why weren't you here already? You don't seem to have the guts to do what needs to be done."</p> <p>"At least stop sprayin' tha kid!"</p> <p>"Only when he's ready to talk."</p> <p>The spray stopped and the hose bearer quickly turned towards the criminal with a loud scrape and crack of the floorboards.</p> <p>"So kid, how are you feeling? Ready to give up Mr. Burns?"</p> <p>"I don't know who the hell you're talking about."</p> <p>Another spray of water hit his face as the truck shouted.</p> <p>"Lies won't save you!"</p> <p>"Mate, I don' think he's lyin'."</p> <p>"A likely story"</p> <p>"Can ya jus' let tha guy explain?"</p> <p>"Fine."</p> <p>And so, the room went silent as the drenched boy caught his breath and centered himself. He only had one opportunity to make his case, so he wasn't going to waste it. Four years of drama club had trained him for this moment, so he took a deep breath and began.</p> <p>"Chocolate."</p> <p>Right off the bat he botches it. But apparently one bad turn deserves another, so he picked up the metaphorical shovel and started digging himself further into this hole.</p> <p>"Have you seen the ways chocolate is made? Horrifying conditions, immoral labor practices. I saw all about it in this new documentary. "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". Did you see that chocolate river? Not a single handrail! As an OSHA inspector I will not stand for it."</p> <p>…</p> <p>The shorter of the two heroes responded.</p> <p>"So wat's tha' have ta do with this mate?"</p> <p>"Didn't you see downstairs? There's a whole exhibit on both floors dedicated to the history of chocolate."</p> <p>"So?"</p> <p>"So I decided to set it on fire."</p> <p>The mechanical fire fighter replies.</p> <p>"I can't see how that could possibly drive you to using the tools of the enemy."</p> <p>"I don't see what you're not getting here. I'm the good guy! I was concerned about the health and safety of the workers in chocolate factories, so I set fire to a building. That way, they'll have to close the exhibit."</p> <p>"Mate, they're already closin' it."</p> <p>"Really?"</p> <p>"Yes you blasted fire sympathizer. It's March 12th, they're changing it tomorrow."</p> <p>"Aw beans, and after all this prep I did. Do you know how hard it is to make a Molotov cocktail? Bartender's bibles don't cover it, and I'm pretty sure if I Googled it I'd get on a watchlist."</p> <p>"I think it's boutta be a lot worse than a watchlist for ya, mate."</p> <p>"Not if I can help it, you'll never take me alive!"</p> <p>The desperate individual proceeded to jump out of the window and try to run away down the street before collapsing due to the pain of fracturing both his ankles. Then, he was picked up and lifted off the ground like a family pet yanked up by a child that is far too young to know how to treat animals.</p> <p>"Hello fellow warriors, I have returned from my educational journey!"</p> <p>As the extraterrestrial spoke, the culprit turned away from the judgmental eyes. Both because he was in excruciating pain and because the last words he said were so exceedingly stupid.</p> <p>"Ya'll nevah take me alive, really mate?"</p> <p>"Look, it sounded better in my head."</p> <p>"Where were you astro-boy? Fleeing like a coward when you were needed most?"</p> <p>"Did you know the Moon's surface is primarily silicates, but it has some heavier metals due to asteroid impacts?"</p> <p>"Of course, everyone knows that. Don't think that just because you've gone on the beautiful and life-changing journey that is the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science's planetarium presentation that you're off the hook."</p> <p>The no-longer-dripping-wet-but-still-damp boy spoke up.</p> <p>"Can you put me down? This is really starting to hurt."</p> <p>The source of his no-longer-dripping-wet-but-still-damp-ness replied</p> <p>"Consider yourself lucky we're leaving you here for the cops. They're a lot kinder to you fire people than I am. But I've got more important places to be."</p> <p>"Of course! I, Moon Champion, shall accompany you so that you may more swiftly come with me and aid my homeland."</p> <p>"I'll come with ya, I guess. But 'fore the cops get 'ere I do 'ave one thing I'd like to try…"</p> <p>In an apartment building on the other end of the breathtaking city of Albuquerque, a site director is relaxing by watching the news after a long day of work. However, there is never rest for the weary, as they receive a call on their phone about a matter of the utmost importance.</p> <p>"A breach? How many injured? Have the agents been called?"</p> <p>Well, maybe not that important.</p> <p>"Oh, it's just them. How did they even get out?"</p> <p>…</p> <p>"That is simultaneously very interesting and answers any lingering questions I had about the situation."</p> <p>…</p> <p>"Well we should still get an information control team out there with amnestics. Don't want any credible witnesses spreading stories."</p> <p>It was at that point that the news happened to play a clip from an interview with a local arsonist that caught the eye of the director.</p> <p>"So, you're telling us that after you had been arrested by the flying astronaut and sentient fire truck, Crocodile Dundee started doing donuts in the parking lot on top of an alamosaurus fossil?"</p> <p>"Yes, the pride and joy of the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science, and they rode it like it was a pony at a state fair."</p> <p>"Very interesting, and is that why you decided to set fire to the building?"</p> <p>"No, of course not, that was as a statement against the horrible criminal that is Willy Wonka."</p> <p>"I see."</p> <p>As the interviewer glanced at the cameraman to come up with an excuse to get out of the situation, the director put her phone back to her ear.</p> <p>"On second thought, they deserve a day off."</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/stone-sea-sky">Stone, Sea, & Sky</a>" by Fireknight, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/stone-sea-sky">https://scpwiki.com/stone-sea-sky</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The night sweeps over the city skyline like a janitor who passed out for an hour or two and needs to make up for lost time. The time: just after 9:00 PM, or 12:00 if you're in a different part of the globe. The place: the den of scum and villainy itself, Albuquerque. 32nd most populated city in the United States, and the most populated in New Mexico. Founded in 1706, but now home to many modern companies for technology and gourmet cuisine, and likely full of many other interesting details not on the first section of its Wikipedia entry. Regardless, on this particular night, and probably on a lot of other nights, the scum of the city run rampant. Free to sate their horrid desires through theft, murder, and jaywalking. The city needs a savior. But who? Turn your gaze, if you will, to the roof of the 500 Marquette, the fourth tallest building in Albuquerque. On it, two unlikely allies sit and contemplate matters of the world. "Truly a perplexing confectionary my good friend, tell me, what do you call it again?" The first vagabond speaks. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1233 A man far from his home], but always in the presence of friends. Despite the tinted glass of his visor, his kind face can almost be made out. Of course, not by his companion, who responds, as always, oblivious to all details. "Tha right thare's a wat we call a Bloomin' Onion. Top ah tha line Aussie meal!" [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7124 Dear god, is that really his voice?] Sorry, that just sent me for a loop. Can you give me just a second? [[size small]]//Is this really the best we could get? Sure it's been slow lately, but there has to be something. ... Yeah, I know, but ... Well there's no need to be harsh about it ... Fine, I'll do it.//[[/size]] My apologies about that. Now, turn your attention, if you will, to the conference between these two figures of power, both with their own discrete agendas, which over the course of the back and forth dance of persuasion they will subtly manipulate the other into obeying. "Kindly sir, will you aid me in fighting the Moon Monsters?" Or not. "Wat in tha name a' Edmund Bahton is a Moon Monstah?" "I see. I seek your forgiveness in the haste of my inquiry. I hail from a land far from here." "Me too mate. I'm from down undah." "I, on the other hand, am from up over. The moon that rises over this city is my home, and this home is under threat. Monstrosities are attacking my people, and so I as the Moon Champion have come to this planet seeking warriors to save my people. Will you join me in this quest?" With such a significant question, posing a potential great burden, any reasonable listener would take time to contemplate the ramifications of their decision. "Sounds cool mate, I'm in." I'm not even surprised at this point. "What absolute sublimity! Let us leave right away." "Sorry mate, yah mean naw? I'd have ta tell my parents first an' ask tha doctahs. They'd be mad if I went an' left tha planet without askin'." "So, you have certain commitments to this world that you cannot forsake?" "Well don't everyone? Surely ya got people ya miss a' home?" But before the star wanderer could give an answer, the beast master noticed a voice calling to him, calling for aid. "Do ya heah that?" "Ah yes, the noise of the city. Filled with pedestrians and what your people call 'airplanes'." "Nah mate, I'm talkin' about tha dinahs. They're callin' ta me." "I cannot say I am familiar with these 'dinahs', I have always been more partial to dogs myself. But lead the way, brave stranger!" With that said, the two travelers made their way with haste to the prize jewel of the city, the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science, only to witness it ablaze. Some dastardly criminal had set a fire within the building, and it was up to our brave heroes to save the day before everyone's favorite hub of culture and knowledge burned to the ground. The champion picked the Ridah up and flew, albeit in a rather roundabout path, to the scene of the crime. Upon their arrival, the two saw [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4601 what appeared to be a fire truck] already fighting the blaze. However, as a voice called out from it, they knew it was anything but normal. "Hey! Get down from there ya flying men, this is no place for civilians!" "Apologies kind plane, we shall be leaving at once." "What are ya doin' Moon Man? Hey truck, we're heah ta help!" The pair set down on the ground beside the vehicular firefighter. All three looked at each other, but only one had a visible set of eyes. The air would be silent if not for all the noise. It was like when you're in a crowded room and everyone just so happens to go quiet at the same time, and no one wants to be the first person to start talking again because your conversation was really weird out of context and you don't want to explain to everyone why you know the name of the first convicted cannibal in Colorado, Alferd Packer. So you all just sit around until one annoying kid shouts "awkward!" and you hate that kid, but you also acknowledge that without their help, you would be trapped in that state for the rest of your natural life, so you have to give him some begrudging level of respect. Yeah, it was a lot like that. Everyone waiting for the least tactful person to make a move. "G'day mate! My name's Grant, but ya can call me tha Dinah Ridah." And there he is. "I'm Bigg Redd, if you're here to help, then do it already!" "And I am the Moon Champion. I'm looking for brave warriors to help me save my land from--" "Quit your yapping and get in there! These fires aren't going to stop themselves." "I'll take that as a maybe!" So, the two non-mechanical individuals ran into the burning building, right past the ticket booth. They, of course, left money to be collected in the morning to pay for their admission, $7.00 for the terrestrial man and $6.00 for the lunar one (senior discount). However, while the fire was coming from upstairs, as the two went into the atrium, they saw signs tempting them away from their goal. The trainer of ancient beasts saw, just past the stairs to the left, a sign pointing to the Fossilworks. Drawn by a force he couldn't describe, he walked down the hallway past the temporary exhibit on the history of chocolate and into the treasure trove. New Mexico, had a wide array of fossils on display at this museum. Feeling the heat and the smoke slowly fill the room, he became concerned for their well being. A nurturing soul at heart, one who cares deeply about these prehistoric animals, the gentle man reached out his hand to soothe the fossils. Shells, ferns, and plaster casts of femurs, all dinosaurs to him, all scared and huddled together as he carefully reassured them. "It'll be alright mates. It'll all be alright." Down the other path, in a straight line from the entrance, the other individual saw strange images of his homeland. As he walked, not entranced, but curious, into the large dark room, the dome at the top sprung to life and a mechanical voice began to speak. "Our moon." "Your moon? Ah, I see, a fellow traveller from my home land. Fear not, for I, Moon Champion, am here to aid you." "Called by the ancients by many names, including Selene, Luna, and Mani. Seen by us every night, but how much do we really know about our closest neighbor in the sky?" "While these humans may be ignorant, you and I know a great deal, do we not?" Images of the moon's surface began to move across the dome of the planetarium. The screen slowly zoomed in on craters and mountains, confusing the sole witness in the room. "Over 200,000 miles away, and yet close enough to control the planets tides every day." "Very interesting." The champion took a seat in one of the many empty chairs and craned his neck upward to watch the presentation. Suddenly, a great crash could be heard from upstairs. The one watching a presentation was unconcerned, but the one who had something to fight for ran up to see what was happening. "Sweet Sydney Opera House!" What he saw was the fire truck he spoke with earlier. On the second floor. Hosing down a scrawny man in a hoodie. "How dare you try to spread the scourge of fire to this beautiful city!" "What are ya doin' mate? How did ya even get heah?" "That's what the ladder's for. The better question is why weren't you here already? You don't seem to have the guts to do what needs to be done." "At least stop sprayin' tha kid!" "Only when he's ready to talk." The spray stopped and the hose bearer quickly turned towards the criminal with a loud scrape and crack of the floorboards. "So kid, how are you feeling? Ready to give up Mr. Burns?" "I don't know who the hell you're talking about." Another spray of water hit his face as the truck shouted. "Lies won't save you!" "Mate, I don' think he's lyin'." "A likely story" "Can ya jus' let tha guy explain?" "Fine." And so, the room went silent as the drenched boy caught his breath and centered himself. He only had one opportunity to make his case, so he wasn't going to waste it. Four years of drama club had trained him for this moment, so he took a deep breath and began. "Chocolate." Right off the bat he botches it. But apparently one bad turn deserves another, so he picked up the metaphorical shovel and started digging himself further into this hole. "Have you seen the ways chocolate is made? Horrifying conditions, immoral labor practices. I saw all about it in this new documentary. "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". Did you see that chocolate river? Not a single handrail! As an OSHA inspector I will not stand for it." ... The shorter of the two heroes responded. "So wat's tha' have ta do with this mate?" "Didn't you see downstairs? There's a whole exhibit on both floors dedicated to the history of chocolate." "So?" "So I decided to set it on fire." The mechanical fire fighter replies. "I can't see how that could possibly drive you to using the tools of the enemy." "I don't see what you're not getting here. I'm the good guy! I was concerned about the health and safety of the workers in chocolate factories, so I set fire to a building. That way, they'll have to close the exhibit." "Mate, they're already closin' it." "Really?" "Yes you blasted fire sympathizer. It's March 12th, they're changing it tomorrow." "Aw beans, and after all this prep I did. Do you know how hard it is to make a Molotov cocktail? Bartender's bibles don't cover it, and I'm pretty sure if I Googled it I'd get on a watchlist." "I think it's boutta be a lot worse than a watchlist for ya, mate." "Not if I can help it, you'll never take me alive!" The desperate individual proceeded to jump out of the window and try to run away down the street before collapsing due to the pain of fracturing both his ankles. Then, he was picked up and lifted off the ground like a family pet yanked up by a child that is far too young to know how to treat animals. "Hello fellow warriors, I have returned from my educational journey!" As the extraterrestrial spoke, the culprit turned away from the judgmental eyes. Both because he was in excruciating pain and because the last words he said were so exceedingly stupid. "Ya'll nevah take me alive, really mate?" "Look, it sounded better in my head." "Where were you astro-boy? Fleeing like a coward when you were needed most?" "Did you know the Moon's surface is primarily silicates, but it has some heavier metals due to asteroid impacts?" "Of course, everyone knows that. Don't think that just because you've gone on the beautiful and life-changing journey that is the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science's planetarium presentation that you're off the hook." The no-longer-dripping-wet-but-still-damp boy spoke up. "Can you put me down? This is really starting to hurt." The source of his no-longer-dripping-wet-but-still-damp-ness replied "Consider yourself lucky we're leaving you here for the cops. They're a lot kinder to you fire people than I am. But I've got more important places to be." "Of course! I, Moon Champion, shall accompany you so that you may more swiftly come with me and aid my homeland." "I'll come with ya, I guess. But 'fore the cops get 'ere I do 'ave one thing I'd like to try..." In an apartment building on the other end of the breathtaking city of Albuquerque, a site director is relaxing by watching the news after a long day of work. However, there is never rest for the weary, as they receive a call on their phone about a matter of the utmost importance. "A breach? How many injured? Have the agents been called?" Well, maybe not that important. "Oh, it's just them. How did they even get out?" ... "That is simultaneously very interesting and answers any lingering questions I had about the situation." ... "Well we should still get an information control team out there with amnestics. Don't want any credible witnesses spreading stories." It was at that point that the news happened to play a clip from an interview with a local arsonist that caught the eye of the director. "So, you're telling us that after you had been arrested by the flying astronaut and sentient fire truck, Crocodile Dundee started doing donuts in the parking lot on top of an alamosaurus fossil?" "Yes, the pride and joy of the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science, and they rode it like it was a pony at a state fair." "Very interesting, and is that why you decided to set fire to the building?" "No, of course not, that was as a statement against the horrible criminal that is Willy Wonka." "I see." As the interviewer glanced at the cameraman to come up with an excuse to get out of the situation, the director put her phone back to her ear. "On second thought, they deserve a day off." [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Fireknight]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-14T15:04:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Stone, Sea, & Sky - SCP Foundation	4	[ "scp-1233", "scp-7124", "scp-4601", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449390413	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/stone-sea-sky
street-light-interference	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Acreepypasta/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aanon/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aparawatch-pumpkin/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/realsurreality">Author Page</a></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/parawatch-hub">Parawatch Hub</a></strong></p> <hr/> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/realsurreality">RealSurrealSir</a></p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #6c0"><strong>BuzzCauldron</strong></span> 04/12/23 (Fri) 17:53:28 #18239491</p> <hr/> <p>How do seemingly broken streetlamps connect to government mind control? In my life at least, in more more direct ways than I ever had reason to imagine until very recently.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:650px;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/street-light-interference/Streetlights"><img alt="Streetlights" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/street-light-interference/Streetlights/medium.jpg"/></a> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>…</p> </div> </div> <p>We all probably know (<em>especially</em> those of us on here) at least the gist of the C.I.A.’s MK Ultra project during the Cold War, what with its infamous LSD and “mind control” experiments. Those are the most well-known series of experiments, at least, but there were other kooky projects and operations that involved tinkering with the paranormal across multiple alphabet agencies and federal departments, from the CIA to the FBI to the DoD at the Pentagon. Think telepathy, remote viewing, telekinesis, etc… For example, a lot of publicly known ESP (extrasensory perception) stuff often gets lumped together under "Project Stargate" in media reporting and casual discourse. In reality though, Stargate was just the biggest in a whole family of weird sister projects involving testing the existence and efficacy of various types of psychic abilities, the kind of ghoulish almost Men-In-Black type crap that makes groups like DARPA look prudish and constrained by comparison.</p> <p>This isn’t even the conspiracy theory stuff yet, all this is outlined in publicly available declassified (intentionally or otherwise) documents from the era. That said, what’s been publicly released isn’t all that was looked into by the ever-diligent U.S. federal government at the time. I know this precisely because my recently-deceased father knew this, and he's always been the kind to write things down, even though that’s considered a liability more than anything in his particular line of work.</p> <p>See, since his death a couple weeks ago, my siblings and I have been going through his belongings to variously divvy up, sell, or give away. And boy, did I recently find some interesting documents and LENGTHY personal notes he had squirreled away… stuff that puts both my personal history and frankly just the nature of reality in somewhat of a different light. I’m here today to explain to you lovely truth-seekers out there just how.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #6c0"><strong>BuzzCauldron</strong></span> 04/12/23 (Sat) 19:03:12 #18239491</p> <hr/> <p>I guess I’ll start with my father’s background. My dad was actually employed by the Department of Defense for most of my lifetime, or at least he was as far as I ever knew (I'll get to that little qualification in a bit, don't worry). He was usually and unsurprisingly pretty tight-lipped about his work life, even with his dear family. Like, even as a kid I knew he went to the Pentagon each day, but I'm honestly not sure if I was supposed to even know that much. Now, he wasn't exactly a very naturally open or expressive man to begin with; maybe that's why he got so far in his field, who knows. But it seems that far he did indeed get, farther than he let on to any of us, at least judging by the documents I found hidden in a loose floorboard under his bookshelf like he's a character in a goddamn B-level spy movie.</p> <p>I'll admit that I’ve been going through them religiously over the past few days, especially since a lot of his later notes had to do with something that actually affects me personally: a phenomenon called “Street Light Interference”. Now, it does seem to be about as mundane as a paranormal phenomenon can get at first glance, because its basically just what it sounds like; a phenomenon wherein some people will sometimes, at a rate above random chance, have street lights go out when approaching or passing underneath them. This does include me in fact, (lamest superpower ever btw), but it really does feel at times like we're somehow <em>causing</em> it to happen… It may sound a little dumb, but bear with me for a bit. I mean for one thing, there have actually been studies and books and such about this shit, and there's even a nickname given to us, "SLIders" (I hate it, ngl, but hey I didn't come up with it).</p> <p>Anyway, remember when I mentioned the ESP-related family of projects codenamed Stargate? My Dad was apparently a key part of project oversight. It's still insane to me imagining my cantankerous yet cartoonishly dull asshole of a father (Rest in Peace Dad, love you) dropping us off at school after torturing us with Christan Rock on the radio or rants about the "God-hatin' Commies" only to then going to work and administer everything from experimental drugs to fucking esoteric metaphysical procedures taken straight from random ancient Eastern philosophical and/or holy texts to people, just to see if they can magically sense the bunch of grapes in the other room or make the lights flash on and off in Morse code with their fucking minds. But according to his own notes… Yeah, those examples come straight from there. And in regard to the latter example they apparently had some success!</p> <p>But then things get <em>reeeeallly</em> weird, also right around where things start to really diverge from the public record. The declassified documents mostly come from when the broader central program as it was "assessed" and subsequently shut down and concluded a "failure" by the CIA after they took it over from the DoD in the Nineties. I'm not saying what was declassified to the public are all falsified documents and results; I'm saying they were SELECTIVELY chosen in order to craft a particular narrative of across-the-board failure, with just enough embarrassing admission in the right amount of carefully chosen contexts to best discourage further scrutiny. I’m talking about the ole ‘voluntarily admit to a Small Thing so people won’t think you’re lying about or hiding some Bigger Thing’ trick, but if literal ESP tests by the U.S. federal government is the <em>small</em> thing, imagine what the <em>BIG</em>stuff was…</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #6c0"><strong>BuzzCauldron</strong></span> 04/12/23 (Wed) 22:03:42 #18239491</p> <hr/> <p>See, there was a psychic-electric manipulation line of tests I mentioned my dad being involved in is one of those still-secret counterexamples, at least if Dad's likely-smuggled documents are to be believed. In actuality, that particular line of research was apparently so successful, it spawned its own subproject, to which my father was assigned as one of the top administrators or officers or something. Hard to say for sure, as even in the agency’s own internal documentation and correspondence, there's a ton of internal jargon and codewords and such. It’s very frustrating but I guess that's probably the point, y’know in case they ever did get stolen or say, smuggled out by a disenchanted higher-up… Just hypothetically, of course.</p> <p>Anyway, like I said, if my father is to be believed, then “Electropsionics” (their real term, not kidding) research eventually started progressing rapidly, a rare success in a family of ESP projects which still more often than not seemed to just end in abject failure from what I can gather. You can actually feel the devious excitement even within the ceaselessly clinical jargon of the project notes, as these researchers raved about “extranormal resonance qualities”, or the "potential utility factors" like near-undetectable alternative messaging protocols and voluntary covert electromechanical sabotage of enemy operations and devices practically at will, which all began to seem like legitimately feasible military and intelligence procedures of the future.</p> <p>That is, until it all came to an unexplained and grinding halt, that is. Higher-ups came down hard on the project, implemented new protocols, and things just sort of “got lost in the process” somehow, as my father put it. He seems to go back and forth between blaming it on bureaucratic stranglement or some internal conspiracy (you know, within the bigger conspiracy he was already a part of). He was reassigned, but he never let go of this idea he had eventually come to firmly believe that he was somehow drugged or tested on himself.</p> <p>He wrote about these blocks of important time and work that seemed to just be missing from his mind. I'll just quote his notes directly here for an example:</p> <ul> <li>"Parts of my memory have been amputated with surgical precision, replaced with a hazy and frankly unrealistic proxy of generic busy work and long hours filling nameless forms or overseeing new testing protocols to which no specifics can be recalled… I don't even know which of my own memories to even believe anymore".</li> </ul> <p>I will say that the timing does seem to coincide pretty closely with my dad's 'alcoholism and periodic nervous breakdowns' phase that led to my parents' divorce within the year, so "grain of salt" and all that. What's significant either way though is that whatever happened, it made my dad hyperfixate on the possibility of preternatural psycho-electrical manipulation from then on. When the SLI phenomenon came into the public consciousness a years later, he followed it almost religiously.</p> <p>Sidebar, but after he left when I was a teenager, we had a pretty rocky relationship for years after. I blamed him for just about everything wrong in my life, with varying degrees of actual fairness. That said, a memory I always treasured was confiding in him my silly-sounding self-professed ability to make street lamps turn on and off, and to my surprise, having my perpetually stoic and skeptical father not only listening to me intently but actually <em>believing</em> me, even discussing wild theories I'd come up with like 'energy fields' and other BS I'd imagined as if we were engaging in a serious academic discussion. He even happily paused his dinner one night to come with me on a walk one night just because I had been “causing more lamps to go out than ever!” and wanted to show him. Actually, it did keep happening that night, incidentally, and he at least acted impressed.</p> <p>I know it's such a weird thing to bond over, especially now that I’m writing it all out, but at the time I interpreted it as a long-overdue but sincere attempt to reconnect with his son, even over something he probably thought silly, has now come to represent a joyless event of me accidentally providing a new connection to his secret obsession. He obviously remembered SOME of the light manipulation, and never got over it. It kinda feels now like I was just a useful window into what he so desperately wanted to know or remember the other half of… I don't know how exactly to feel about that, but I'll save that for my therapist.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: cyan"><strong>Faded_Rainbow</strong></span> 04/14/23 (Fri) 13:03:12 #71345229</p> <hr/> <p>Hey, Just wanted to say thanks for sharing your story, this is all really interesting and totally tracks with what I’ve always believed about the whole psycho-project bonanza, but it's gratifying to get these kinds of specifics. Sorry about your crappy dad also, believe me I can relate to daddy issues as well as just about anything. Are you gonna keep telling your story though? I notice it's been a couple days with no word, so…</p> <p>Also, any chance you’d be willing to share or post some examples of what you found from your old man? Maybe some more eyes can help figure out even more details or decode some of that obtuse Spook-Speak!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: #6c0"><strong>BuzzCauldron</strong></span> 04/15/23 (Sat) 01:04:25 #18239491</p> <hr/> <p>Glad you’ve found this all fascinating too, and sorry for the abrupt pause! So first, no I’m not quite done, I’m just busy and stressed and sad and tired… I need a bit of time to collect the rest of my thoughts and conclusions anyway, to figure out what I’m gonna say next and how I’m gonna say it and all that. Understand that it's been a taxing couple of days for me, but for now though I just got to take a bit of a break. Also, I still gotta finish sorting all my pop’s old normal possessions, ya know, what got me down this rabbit hole in the first place, but I promise I’ll update when I can and hopefully that’ll be pretty soon.</p> <p>To answer your second question: I’ve already gone through all the notes I’ve been able to find. Frankly, it’s one thing to spout generalities that sound like conspiracy theory garbage on a forum, but I’m not gonna take the risk of actually posting or sending documents and notes that for all I know I could get tin trouble for even having. I understand if anyone just doesn’t believe me for it, truly feel free not to take my word for it, but I’m just not crossing that kind of line. Sorry</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: coral"><strong>BakAlleyPharmacyst420</strong></span> 04/15/23 (Sat) 17:14:36 #51289823</p> <hr/> <p>Yo wait so I’m confused, can you CHOOSE when to make a light go out, or is it just completely involuntary and random?</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #6c0"><strong>BuzzCauldron</strong></span> 04/15/23 (Sat) 19:12:43 #18239491</p> <hr/> <p>Ok, I’ve had my break, so let me just tie up a few loose ends before getting to a, let’s call it an interesting new find”.</p> <p>So first, I’ll just go ahead and summarize what happened to my Dad by his later life. Those memory lapses and alcoholism I mentioned? They just kept getting worse, especially the latter. In fact, I kinda suspect his bitterness and obsession about those periods of lost memory only grew when the early Alzheimer's began to hit, and that he might have even intentionally drank himself to death afterward to avoid the prospect of going through that kind of involuntary memory loss again. He was certainly embittered enough by the end, I’ll tell you that. Who knows though, we kinda became functionally only in the loosest of loose contact by that point, especially when I had my own kids and did not want him influencing them in any conceivable way. May sound harsh, but I stand by the decision… Though I do regret declining a rare requested visit a couple weeks before he died; I just couldn’t work it into my schedule and had no idea he was close to the end as he was. Maybe he knew it though even if he didn’t let on because he hadn’t asked for any such thing in like a decade by then; it's the main reason I can think of at least. Regardless, he died like a week later, before I could even settle on a specific postponed date. It is what it is.</p> <p>As for your question Bak (didn’t forget ya!), no I really can’t control when the SLI triggers or not, not like those light manipulators in Dad's notes at least. The most I can say is that sometikes I do just kijd if "know" when it's about to almost certainly happen, at least once when I walk more than a block or two down the street. Some nights it happens more than others, but it almost always happens at least occasionally. It’s just not necessarily up to me, though I will say I sometimes get certain ‘feelings’ or little premonitions about which ones are about to go out as I get closer, and those feelings are usually correct. That sensitivity is probably part of whatever the hell is going on more broadly, but who knows.</p> <p>Now, having said that My dad's notes mentioned that he believed that studies were being done on "SLIders" like me confirming their abilities, to the point of even showing that perhaps a few could even exert some level of control over it, but that some part of the government was covering it all up for some reason. He also said they tended to be the kookiest out of all of us though, and frankly I don't know how much veracity there is to that particular aspect as even they didn’t seem completely sure, and also that part came right before they were shut down. I’ll just let all of you draw your own conclusions there.</p> <p>On a related note however, it was also around the time the project shut down that my father got me some goofy ‘spectral goggles’ or something, and suggested I try looking at the flickering street lamps through them to see what I find. I think he must have bought 'em from one of those ads at the back of one my comic books, you know the ones shocking similar crap like X-Ray Specs or "Invisible Goldfish" and such. Now, I lost them almost as soon as he gave them to me, but guess what I found in this old house last night:</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:540px;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/street-light-interference/PentagramGoggles"><img alt="PentagramGoggles" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/street-light-interference/PentagramGoggles/medium.jpg"/></a> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>The ghost-spectacles themselves</p> </div> </div> <p>See what I mean? As over-the-top as they look though, I have to give it to Dad, they did have a neat effect of causing spooky shadows and figures to show up along the edges of the flickering streetlights, some would even leave these shifty, ghostly afterimage@ that still seemed to shimmer or move even after the lights went out. Here, I went and tried with my phone camera but it still partially works, even if the shadowy figures are a bit more distorted:</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:261px;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/street-light-interference/Lamplurkers"><img alt="Lamplurkers" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/street-light-interference/Lamplurkers/medium.jpg"/></a> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>I'm calling 'em Lamplurkers</p> </div> </div> <p>Eerie stuff, huh? No idea how it works, but I remember it creeped me the hell out as a kid, and Dad actually played along by acting as spooked and solemn as I was when I told him what I saw through the goggles. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he regretted getting them for me and hid them away, let me think I “lost” them so I wouldn’t keep freaking myself out. You know, he could be a real asshole, sure, but he also had his moments of real thoughtfulness and companionship. I hope he’s doing well wherever he is now…</p> <p>Ah, I’m just rambling now. I’d love to find out more about these goofy goggles though. I don’t see a name or brand anywhere, just that weird logo, but maybe they faded over time. Anyway, if there’s anyone reading who recognizes them, let me know. Or if there are any other SLIder’s out there reading, feel free to share your own experiences, I’m sure we’d all love to hear them!</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: magenta"><strong>🗿SeekerSage92</strong></span> 04/15/23 (Sat) 23:18:05 #82917762</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red">[THREAD LOCKED.]</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>No explanation available.</em></p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/street-light-interference">Street Light Interference</a>" by RealSurrealSir, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/street-light-interference">https://scpwiki.com/street-light-interference</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Amaury Laporte<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Ghostly Prayers<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>URL:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/alaporte/16281105434/">Original Link</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Commander U.S. Naval Forces<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> 181106-AZ467-0011<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain (CC0)<br/> <strong>URL:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/cne-cna-c6f/44848523045/">Original Link</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> This is one of two images used to make the image “PentagramGoggles” by me.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jackalrelated" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3207203); return false;"><img alt="JackalRelated" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3207203&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728457304" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3207203)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jackalrelated" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3207203); return false;">JackalRelated</a></span><br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Pentagram Logo<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>URL:* N/A<br/></strong> Additional Notes:** This is one of two images used to make the image “PentagramGoggles” by me.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Tuncay<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Ghosts Route<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>URL:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/tuncaycoskun/14204413214/in/faves-195059492@N04/">Original Link</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> This is one of two images used to make the image “Lamplurkers” by me.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Author:</strong> Chris Price<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Foggy Street<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>URL:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/priceless_video/16040948028/in/faves-195059492@N04/">Original Link</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> This is one of two images used to make the image “Lamplurkers” by me.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:anon">:scp-wiki:theme:anon</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:parawatch-pumpkin">:scp-wiki:theme:parawatch-pumpkin</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] = [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/realsurreality Author Page] = [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/parawatch-hub Parawatch Hub] ----- [[include <a href="/component:ratio-bar">component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/realsurreality RealSurrealSir] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##6c0\|BuzzCauldron## 04/12/23 (Fri) 17:53:28 #18239491 ----- How do seemingly broken streetlamps connect to government mind control? In my life at least, in more more direct ways than I ever had reason to imagine until very recently. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name= Streetlights \| caption= ... \| width=650px ]] We all probably know (//especially// those of us on here) at least the gist of the C.I.A.’s MK Ultra project during the Cold War, what with its infamous LSD and “mind control” experiments. Those are the most well-known series of experiments, at least, but there were other kooky projects and operations that involved tinkering with the paranormal across multiple alphabet agencies and federal departments, from the CIA to the FBI to the DoD at the Pentagon. Think telepathy, remote viewing, telekinesis, etc… For example, a lot of publicly known ESP (extrasensory perception) stuff often gets lumped together under "Project Stargate" in media reporting and casual discourse. In reality though, Stargate was just the biggest in a whole family of weird sister projects involving testing the existence and efficacy of various types of psychic abilities, the kind of ghoulish almost Men-In-Black type crap that makes groups like DARPA look prudish and constrained by comparison. This isn’t even the conspiracy theory stuff yet, all this is outlined in publicly available declassified (intentionally or otherwise) documents from the era. That said, what’s been publicly released isn’t all that was looked into by the ever-diligent U.S. federal government at the time. I know this precisely because my recently-deceased father knew this, and he's always been the kind to write things down, even though that’s considered a liability more than anything in his particular line of work. See, since his death a couple weeks ago, my siblings and I have been going through his belongings to variously divvy up, sell, or give away. And boy, did I recently find some interesting documents and LENGTHY personal notes he had squirreled away… stuff that puts both my personal history and frankly just the nature of reality in somewhat of a different light. I’m here today to explain to you lovely truth-seekers out there just how. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##6c0\|BuzzCauldron## 04/12/23 (Sat) 19:03:12 #18239491 ----- I guess I’ll start with my father’s background. My dad was actually employed by the Department of Defense for most of my lifetime, or at least he was as far as I ever knew (I'll get to that little qualification in a bit, don't worry). He was usually and unsurprisingly pretty tight-lipped about his work life, even with his dear family. Like, even as a kid I knew he went to the Pentagon each day, but I'm honestly not sure if I was supposed to even know that much. Now, he wasn't exactly a very naturally open or expressive man to begin with; maybe that's why he got so far in his field, who knows. But it seems that far he did indeed get, farther than he let on to any of us, at least judging by the documents I found hidden in a loose floorboard under his bookshelf like he's a character in a goddamn B-level spy movie. I'll admit that I’ve been going through them religiously over the past few days, especially since a lot of his later notes had to do with something that actually affects me personally: a phenomenon called “Street Light Interference”. Now, it does seem to be about as mundane as a paranormal phenomenon can get at first glance, because its basically just what it sounds like; a phenomenon wherein some people will sometimes, at a rate above random chance, have street lights go out when approaching or passing underneath them. This does include me in fact, (lamest superpower ever btw), but it really does feel at times like we're somehow //causing// it to happen… It may sound a little dumb, but bear with me for a bit. I mean for one thing, there have actually been studies and books and such about this shit, and there's even a nickname given to us, "SLIders" (I hate it, ngl, but hey I didn't come up with it). Anyway, remember when I mentioned the ESP-related family of projects codenamed Stargate? My Dad was apparently a key part of project oversight. It's still insane to me imagining my cantankerous yet cartoonishly dull asshole of a father (Rest in Peace Dad, love you) dropping us off at school after torturing us with Christan Rock on the radio or rants about the "God-hatin' Commies" only to then going to work and administer everything from experimental drugs to fucking esoteric metaphysical procedures taken straight from random ancient Eastern philosophical and/or holy texts to people, just to see if they can magically sense the bunch of grapes in the other room or make the lights flash on and off in Morse code with their fucking minds. But according to his own notes… Yeah, those examples come straight from there. And in regard to the latter example they apparently had some success! But then things get //reeeeallly// weird, also right around where things start to really diverge from the public record. The declassified documents mostly come from when the broader central program as it was "assessed" and subsequently shut down and concluded a "failure" by the CIA after they took it over from the DoD in the Nineties. I'm not saying what was declassified to the public are all falsified documents and results; I'm saying they were SELECTIVELY chosen in order to craft a particular narrative of across-the-board failure, with just enough embarrassing admission in the right amount of carefully chosen contexts to best discourage further scrutiny. I’m talking about the ole ‘voluntarily admit to a Small Thing so people won’t think you’re lying about or hiding some Bigger Thing’ trick, but if literal ESP tests by the U.S. federal government is the //small// thing, imagine what the //BIG//stuff was… [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##6c0\|BuzzCauldron## 04/12/23 (Wed) 22:03:42 #18239491 ----- See, there was a psychic-electric manipulation line of tests I mentioned my dad being involved in is one of those still-secret counterexamples, at least if Dad's likely-smuggled documents are to be believed. In actuality, that particular line of research was apparently so successful, it spawned its own subproject, to which my father was assigned as one of the top administrators or officers or something. Hard to say for sure, as even in the agency’s own internal documentation and correspondence, there's a ton of internal jargon and codewords and such. It’s very frustrating but I guess that's probably the point, y’know in case they ever did get stolen or say, smuggled out by a disenchanted higher-up… Just hypothetically, of course. Anyway, like I said, if my father is to be believed, then “Electropsionics” (their real term, not kidding) research eventually started progressing rapidly, a rare success in a family of ESP projects which still more often than not seemed to just end in abject failure from what I can gather. You can actually feel the devious excitement even within the ceaselessly clinical jargon of the project notes, as these researchers raved about “extranormal resonance qualities”, or the "potential utility factors" like near-undetectable alternative messaging protocols and voluntary covert electromechanical sabotage of enemy operations and devices practically at will, which all began to seem like legitimately feasible military and intelligence procedures of the future. That is, until it all came to an unexplained and grinding halt, that is. Higher-ups came down hard on the project, implemented new protocols, and things just sort of “got lost in the process” somehow, as my father put it. He seems to go back and forth between blaming it on bureaucratic stranglement or some internal conspiracy (you know, within the bigger conspiracy he was already a part of). He was reassigned, but he never let go of this idea he had eventually come to firmly believe that he was somehow drugged or tested on himself. He wrote about these blocks of important time and work that seemed to just be missing from his mind. I'll just quote his notes directly here for an example: * "Parts of my memory have been amputated with surgical precision, replaced with a hazy and frankly unrealistic proxy of generic busy work and long hours filling nameless forms or overseeing new testing protocols to which no specifics can be recalled… I don't even know which of my own memories to even believe anymore". I will say that the timing does seem to coincide pretty closely with my dad's 'alcoholism and periodic nervous breakdowns' phase that led to my parents' divorce within the year, so "grain of salt" and all that. What's significant either way though is that whatever happened, it made my dad hyperfixate on the possibility of preternatural psycho-electrical manipulation from then on. When the SLI phenomenon came into the public consciousness a years later, he followed it almost religiously. Sidebar, but after he left when I was a teenager, we had a pretty rocky relationship for years after. I blamed him for just about everything wrong in my life, with varying degrees of actual fairness. That said, a memory I always treasured was confiding in him my silly-sounding self-professed ability to make street lamps turn on and off, and to my surprise, having my perpetually stoic and skeptical father not only listening to me intently but actually //believing// me, even discussing wild theories I'd come up with like 'energy fields' and other BS I'd imagined as if we were engaging in a serious academic discussion. He even happily paused his dinner one night to come with me on a walk one night just because I had been “causing more lamps to go out than ever!” and wanted to show him. Actually, it did keep happening that night, incidentally, and he at least acted impressed. I know it's such a weird thing to bond over, especially now that I’m writing it all out, but at the time I interpreted it as a long-overdue but sincere attempt to reconnect with his son, even over something he probably thought silly, has now come to represent a joyless event of me accidentally providing a new connection to his secret obsession. He obviously remembered SOME of the light manipulation, and never got over it. It kinda feels now like I was just a useful window into what he so desperately wanted to know or remember the other half of... I don't know how exactly to feel about that, but I'll save that for my therapist. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##cyan\|Faded_Rainbow## 04/14/23 (Fri) 13:03:12 #71345229 ----- Hey, Just wanted to say thanks for sharing your story, this is all really interesting and totally tracks with what I’ve always believed about the whole psycho-project bonanza, but it's gratifying to get these kinds of specifics. Sorry about your crappy dad also, believe me I can relate to daddy issues as well as just about anything. Are you gonna keep telling your story though? I notice it's been a couple days with no word, so… Also, any chance you’d be willing to share or post some examples of what you found from your old man? Maybe some more eyes can help figure out even more details or decode some of that obtuse Spook-Speak! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##6c0\|BuzzCauldron## 04/15/23 (Sat) 01:04:25 #18239491 ----- Glad you’ve found this all fascinating too, and sorry for the abrupt pause! So first, no I’m not quite done, I’m just busy and stressed and sad and tired… I need a bit of time to collect the rest of my thoughts and conclusions anyway, to figure out what I’m gonna say next and how I’m gonna say it and all that. Understand that it's been a taxing couple of days for me, but for now though I just got to take a bit of a break. Also, I still gotta finish sorting all my pop’s old normal possessions, ya know, what got me down this rabbit hole in the first place, but I promise I’ll update when I can and hopefully that’ll be pretty soon. To answer your second question: I’ve already gone through all the notes I’ve been able to find. Frankly, it’s one thing to spout generalities that sound like conspiracy theory garbage on a forum, but I’m not gonna take the risk of actually posting or sending documents and notes that for all I know I could get tin trouble for even having. I understand if anyone just doesn’t believe me for it, truly feel free not to take my word for it, but I’m just not crossing that kind of line. Sorry [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##coral\|BakAlleyPharmacyst420## 04/15/23 (Sat) 17:14:36 #51289823 ----- Yo wait so I’m confused, can you CHOOSE when to make a light go out, or is it just completely involuntary and random? [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##6c0\|BuzzCauldron## 04/15/23 (Sat) 19:12:43 #18239491 ----- Ok, I’ve had my break, so let me just tie up a few loose ends before getting to a, let’s call it an interesting new find”. So first, I’ll just go ahead and summarize what happened to my Dad by his later life. Those memory lapses and alcoholism I mentioned? They just kept getting worse, especially the latter. In fact, I kinda suspect his bitterness and obsession about those periods of lost memory only grew when the early Alzheimer's began to hit, and that he might have even intentionally drank himself to death afterward to avoid the prospect of going through that kind of involuntary memory loss again. He was certainly embittered enough by the end, I’ll tell you that. Who knows though, we kinda became functionally only in the loosest of loose contact by that point, especially when I had my own kids and did not want him influencing them in any conceivable way. May sound harsh, but I stand by the decision… Though I do regret declining a rare requested visit a couple weeks before he died; I just couldn’t work it into my schedule and had no idea he was close to the end as he was. Maybe he knew it though even if he didn’t let on because he hadn’t asked for any such thing in like a decade by then; it's the main reason I can think of at least. Regardless, he died like a week later, before I could even settle on a specific postponed date. It is what it is. As for your question Bak (didn’t forget ya!), no I really can’t control when the SLI triggers or not, not like those light manipulators in Dad's notes at least. The most I can say is that sometikes I do just kijd if "know" when it's about to almost certainly happen, at least once when I walk more than a block or two down the street. Some nights it happens more than others, but it almost always happens at least occasionally. It’s just not necessarily up to me, though I will say I sometimes get certain ‘feelings’ or little premonitions about which ones are about to go out as I get closer, and those feelings are usually correct. That sensitivity is probably part of whatever the hell is going on more broadly, but who knows. Now, having said that My dad's notes mentioned that he believed that studies were being done on "SLIders" like me confirming their abilities, to the point of even showing that perhaps a few could even exert some level of control over it, but that some part of the government was covering it all up for some reason. He also said they tended to be the kookiest out of all of us though, and frankly I don't know how much veracity there is to that particular aspect as even they didn’t seem completely sure, and also that part came right before they were shut down. I’ll just let all of you draw your own conclusions there. On a related note however, it was also around the time the project shut down that my father got me some goofy ‘spectral goggles’ or something, and suggested I try looking at the flickering street lamps through them to see what I find. I think he must have bought 'em from one of those ads at the back of one my comic books, you know the ones shocking similar crap like X-Ray Specs or "Invisible Goldfish" and such. Now, I lost them almost as soon as he gave them to me, but guess what I found in this old house last night: [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name= PentagramGoggles \| caption= The ghost-spectacles themselves \| width=540px ]] See what I mean? As over-the-top as they look though, I have to give it to Dad, they did have a neat effect of causing spooky shadows and figures to show up along the edges of the flickering streetlights, some would even leave these shifty, ghostly afterimage@ that still seemed to shimmer or move even after the lights went out. Here, I went and tried with my phone camera but it still partially works, even if the shadowy figures are a bit more distorted: [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name= Lamplurkers \| caption= I'm calling 'em Lamplurkers \| width=261px]] Eerie stuff, huh? No idea how it works, but I remember it creeped me the hell out as a kid, and Dad actually played along by acting as spooked and solemn as I was when I told him what I saw through the goggles. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he regretted getting them for me and hid them away, let me think I “lost” them so I wouldn’t keep freaking myself out. You know, he could be a real asshole, sure, but he also had his moments of real thoughtfulness and companionship. I hope he’s doing well wherever he is now… Ah, I’m just rambling now. I’d love to find out more about these goofy goggles though. I don’t see a name or brand anywhere, just that weird logo, but maybe they faded over time. Anyway, if there’s anyone reading who recognizes them, let me know. Or if there are any other SLIder’s out there reading, feel free to share your own experiences, I’m sure we’d all love to hear them! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##magenta\|🗿SeekerSage92## 04/15/23 (Sat) 23:18:05 #82917762 ----- = ##red\|[THREAD LOCKED.]## = //No explanation available.// [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Author: Amaury Laporte > Name: Ghostly Prayers > License: CC BY 2.0 > URL: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/alaporte/16281105434/ Original Link] ===== > Author: Commander U.S. Naval Forces > Name: 181106-AZ467-0011 > License: Public Domain (CC0) > URL: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/cne-cna-c6f/44848523045/ Original Link] > Additional Notes: This is one of two images used to make the image “PentagramGoggles” by me. ===== > Author: [[user JackalRelated]] > Name:* Pentagram Logo > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > *URL: N/A > Additional Notes: This is one of two images used to make the image “PentagramGoggles” by me. ===== > Author: Tuncay > Name: Ghosts Route > License: CC BY 2.0 > URL: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/tuncaycoskun/14204413214/in/faves-195059492@N04/ Original Link] > Additional Notes: This is one of two images used to make the image “Lamplurkers” by me. ===== > Author: Chris Price > Name: Foggy Street > License: CC BY 2.0 > URL: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/priceless_video/16040948028/in/faves-195059492@N04/ Original Link] > Additional Notes: This is one of two images used to make the image “Lamplurkers” by me. ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-10T21:34:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "correspondence", "creepypasta", "mystery", "parawatch", "pentagram", "spy-fiction", "tale" ]	Street Light Interference - SCP Foundation	28	[ "realsurreality", "parawatch-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "young-and-under-30", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "revamped-underread-and-underrated", "parawatch-hub", "creepy-pasta", "coldpostcon" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/street-light-interference/Streetlights/medium.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/street-light-interference/PentagramGoggles/medium.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/street-light-interference/Lamplurkers/medium.jpg" ]	1447714649	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/street-light-interference
sundial	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aminimalist-bhl/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <br/> You rise from your desk. How long have you been sitting there? <p>Your aching body answers.</p> <p>You look around your office, same as it ever was. Alone under the fluorescent lights and the white walls and the gray carpeting. A room bereft of distraction, but you have nothing to be distracted from anyway.</p> <p>You are bored. Very bored. Maybe it's time to take a break.<br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> Feeling returns to your legs as you wander the corridors of the Site. Your memory of the Site number does not. How long have you been here, existing within these drab walls and humming lighting fixtures? You think back to the last time you saw the Sun.</p> <p><em>It's been a while, hasn't it?</em></p> <p>Everything looks the same in here. You see a pair of researchers down the hall, having a conversation about something you don't understand, and think to ask them where the nearest exit is. But it would be rude to interrupt them. So you don't. They wouldn't even give you the time of day with that attitude, right?</p> <p>You keep looking.<br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> You are lost. You somehow convince yourself that it's not entirely your fault. You haven't seen another staff member for a while. The air feels staler, you leave footsteps in the dust on the floor. Maybe you've gone too far. You think to turn ba-</p> <p>You see a crack of sunlight. An unmistakable ray of soft light trespassing between the ordered domains of the ceiling lamps, coming from just beyond a fork in the maze that is the Site. You can see specks of dust dancing within it. It looks inviting.</p> <p>You turn the corner and step into the light.<br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> The dizzying sensation in your head disappears as quickly as it arrived. A fog lifted from the eye in your mind. You have felt this before. What was once a cause for fear and panic, now a mild annoyance. With newfound clarity, you confirm the truths of your predicament.</p> <p>You are no longer in the Site.</p> <p>While this was your original plan to begin with, that is, going outside, the scenery is wholly unfamiliar to you. It is clear that you are somewhere else entirely.</p> <p>There is nothing but dirt below your feet, paved into a road that runs into a town of dull grayscale buildings in the distance. Beyond, a wall of dark trees under a gloomy sky. It looks like it's about to rain.</p> <p>There's a wooden sign up ahead.</p> <p><br/> <br/> <br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>WELCOME TO GREENLOUTH</strong></p> <p>POPULATION: <tt>-1</tt></p> </div> </div> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> You are very lost.<br/> <br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> This isn't the first time you've gone missing. You have been prone to appearing in far flung locations, remote even for the Foundation. You've gotten used to it at some point. Somewhere on your person, there is a GPS tracker. You hope someone notices your absence and comes to collect you. In the meantime?</p> <p>You have time to kill.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> Walking down the rural road, you arrive at the first structure of note. A quaint white house with a flag hanging off the porch. There are signs in English, but you aren't quite sure what they're meant to signify. You identify that you are somewhere in the United States of America. That's good. You also reason that any locals would understand English, which makes things a lot easier for you.</p> <p>You approach the door, hand in a fist as you move in to knock. But then what? Are you going to ask for their telephone, to make a call to the Foundation? Ask the homeowners for shelter? What would you even say? What makes you think they would let you in?</p> <p>Knuckles meet wood before you can stop yourself. Flecks of white paint fall as you pull away.</p> <p>Now you've done it. It's too late. You follow through with another two shaky knocks. And then a "hello?" you weren't sure was audible enough.</p> <p>You cautiously circle the house, peering into dark windows. It seems like no one's home. You turn to the other houses along the road, your expectations nebulous and intentions underdeveloped.</p> <p>No one lives here. The air is quiet, all the lights are off, there are no cars anywhere along this road, and the sign you saw earlier floats around your mind. There's no one here.</p> <p>So why negative one?<br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p>You circle around the small cemetery on the outskirts of the town, inspecting the weathered stone, treading carefully on a poorly defined path in the dirt. You wouldn't want to disturb the dead, now would you?</p> <p>It's been a while since you've visited a cemetery. You weren't even there for a funeral. It was a long time ago. The one you're standing in right now is a lot smaller. Their headstones duller ten times over, and nowhere near as ornate, and after an embarrassingly lengthy period of inspection you notice something.</p> <p>The headstones have nothing carved into them.</p> <p>Spooky. Maybe there's nothing buried under them. Maybe the town exhumed their dead and brought them away from this place. To have them rot somewhere else. Maybe this is a vestigial graveyard, a memorial for what used to be a resting place for the people who lived and died in Greenlouth.</p> <p>You feel pretty confident that no one rests eternal under your heel at this moment. You also feel confident that you've spent more than enough time contemplating the cemetery.</p> <p>You leave, thinking self-satisfactorily that you've got the cemetery all figured out, and also because you're too much of a coward to actually confirm anything. In fact, you walk right past a maintenance shed that might contain a shovel, thinking nothing of it.</p> <p>You glance back once more at the cemetery, half-expecting to see some manner of ghost staring back, but there is nothing in the cemetery.<br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p>Wandering into the town center, you take in the sights of a town left to the whimsy of the wind and the rain and the overgrowth. This could've been a sizable town once. As you stroll past the dusty display window of a former bakery, you catch your reflection amidst the loaves of very stale bread.<br/> <br/> <br/> <em>Why are you here?</em><br/> <br/> <br/> Your 'involuntary translocations', a term used in something you read before but don't remember where, more often than not have a purpose of some sort. That there's always something you end up doing there, wherever 'there' is. Otherwise, there's no other plausible reason for you to be 'there', or more appropriately, here. Right?<br/> <br/> <br/> <em>So why are you here?</em><br/> <br/> <br/> You wonder how the bread in the bakery still looked edible.</p> <p>Is that it?</p> <p>Alex Thorley and the Mystery of the Ghost Town?</p> <p>Alex Thorley and the Suspiciously Mold Free Bread?</p> <p>Alex Thorley… the Investigator?</p> <p>You question whether there's anything in this town that needs investigating at all. And even if there was, what are you going to do? You haven't any fancy equipment to detect radiation or energies unknown to modern science. You haven't seen any corpses to poke or people to interview.</p> <p>It is just you, and the ghost town with nothing in it.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> As you pass by what seemed to be the town hall, your mind wanders to questions of bureaucracy. You reason that in some office, some census taker simply filled in an erroneous value for the town's population.</p> <p>Does that seem right?<br/> <br/> <br/> <em>No.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> The windows of the town hall are sealed. There’s graffiti on its walls. You aren’t sure what they’re meant to convey. The main entrance is guarded by two large mahogany doors that have long betrayed their purpose, unveiling a dark foyer within, eclipsed by the panels covering the windows but exposed to the elements nonetheless.</p> <p>This was not some remote village forgotten by the maps. This was a sizable town, which meant someone else would've had to come all the way up here just to change the sign, and a negative number is very conspicuous.<br/> <br/> <br/> <em>So's a zero.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> From what little light filters through, you can make out a few filing cabinets, a desk, maybe, and tattered curtains trailing into the shadows. It looks cold inside.</p> <p>Is there even a point in changing the sign then?</p> <p>Maybe this was just a high effort prank. A poorly thought out joke that depreciated in comedic value when the prankster realized there was no one in the town to find it funny. Or perhaps a final hurrah from the last resident before they left.</p> <p>You wonder if you should laugh.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> You've somehow wandered into a theatre. The old kind, for stage plays instead of movies. Sunlight filters in from the ceiling from unseen windows, illuminating the theatre in the same dismal light that bathes the town. For what it's worth, it makes things bright enough for you to appreciate the peeling wallpaper, the rusting ornate decorations, the faded seats and carpet.</p> <p>You seat yourself in what was once the front row, beneath opulent arches and elaborate frescoes on the ceiling, too far for you to make out. You wonder what plays they used to put on here.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> How many people is negative one?</p> <p><em>That doesn't sound like a grammatically correct sentence.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> There are over 100 seats in the theatre. Probably. Counting them all was never a task you registered as possible when you stepped in here. What does it matter anyway? There’s no audience coming.<br/> <br/> <br/> Is it the absence of a person?</p> <p><em>That is a zero.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> A large chandelier rests on the seats behind you. It looks deflated, now that it’s no longer suspended from the ceiling. The floor must be a chandelier’s version of hell, to be cast out from great heights by the powers that be.<br/> <br/> <br/> Is it the absence of a person where there ought to be one?</p> <p><em>No. That is still a zero.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> The stage remains structurally sound. Probably. The dark wood conceals any cracks and holes that may or may not exist fairly well, if it weren’t for the dust and plaster and debris that blanket everything.<br/> <br/> <br/> A ghost?</p> <p><em>A ghost is still a something.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> The curtains have faded over the years, but retain their distinct and complex patterns as they lie collapsed on the stage. You are reminded of an old TV show, where they uncover golden artifacts from an archaeological excavation. Unlike those trinkets, these curtains will never shine again.<br/> <br/> <br/> How can there be a negative value of a something?</p> <p><em>Negative one is the inverse of one.</em><br/> <br/> <br/> The wallpaper seems to be decomposing in some places. You see mold. Exposed brickwall elsewhere.<br/> <br/> <br/> What is the inverse of a human being?<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> You leave the theatre. The skies are still cloudy. You aren't sure how much time has passed. Outside the theatre is a large sculpture of a sundial.</p> <p>It's broken. The shadow-casting part lies flat on the pedestal, pointing down one of the streets in the middle of town. You wouldn't have been able to use it anyway.</p> <p>You glance at the bricks in the wall of the building you find yourself standing next to. It might’ve been a warehouse, or perhaps a factory. You can barely see your own shadow under the overcast sky. But you would know how to use the sundial if it worked. Probably.</p> <p>There's a thought at the back of your mind now as you begin another round of window shopping. It's telling you to ask why the sundial is broken amidst your inspection of the suits and skirts and shirts in the display windows. Maybe you can hold onto that question for whoever comes to inspect this place after you.</p> <p>There’s a church across the street. A clinic a little further down. Shops and restaurants and bars and other establishments peppered everywhere else. They are all as run down, as quiet, as empty and hollow as every other structure in this town.</p> <p>You have seen everything there is to see.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> You take a seat on the steps leading up to the church, on a patch of concrete with a less prominent infestation of overgrowth. The waiting game continues.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <hr/> <p>The sound of an engine draws closer. The Foundation has come to pick you up.</p> <p>The vehicle enters your vision, coming to a halt just before the church. You expect to greet the driver, but it appears that the Foundation has sent a self-driving car to collect you.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> You gaze out of the car window as it drives out of Greenlouth. You can retrace your steps as asphalt slowly turns into dirt, and the buildings become smaller and more spaced out.</p> <p>The same sign greets you on your way out.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>WELCOME TO GREENLOUTH</strong></p> <p>POPULATION:</p> </div> </div> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> There is nothing in Greenlouth.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/sundial">Sundial</a>" by Aftokrator, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/sundial">https://scpwiki.com/sundial</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <div style="text-align: left;"> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> house.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Faolin42">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Faolin42</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dickinson_Hall,_1890,_West_Northfield_MA.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dickinson_Hall,_1890,_West_Northfield_MA.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> hall.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Crash575">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Crash575</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Metropolitan_State_Hospital_Admin_Building.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Metropolitan_State_Hospital_Admin_Building.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> theatre.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/people/45795292@N00">https://www.flickr.com/people/45795292@N00</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:BostonOperaHouse_Massachusetts_2546399997.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:BostonOperaHouse_Massachusetts_2546399997.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> road.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Faolin42">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Faolin42</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:River_Road,_Satans_Kingdom_MA.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:River_Road,_Satans_Kingdom_MA.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:minimalist-bhl">:scp-wiki:theme:minimalist-bhl</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "Department of Unreality"; --header-subtitle: "Making the Unreal a ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"; --lgurl: url('http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/unreality-hub/Unreality%20Header%20Logo.svg'); } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] You rise from your desk. How long have you been sitting there? Your aching body answers. You look around your office, same as it ever was. Alone under the fluorescent lights and the white walls and the gray carpeting. A room bereft of distraction, but you have nothing to be distracted from anyway. You are bored. Very bored. Maybe it's time to take a break. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ Feeling returns to your legs as you wander the corridors of the Site. Your memory of the Site number does not. How long have you been here, existing within these drab walls and humming lighting fixtures? You think back to the last time you saw the Sun. //It's been a while, hasn't it?// Everything looks the same in here. You see a pair of researchers down the hall, having a conversation about something you don't understand, and think to ask them where the nearest exit is. But it would be rude to interrupt them. So you don't. They wouldn't even give you the time of day with that attitude, right? You keep looking. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ You are lost. You somehow convince yourself that it's not entirely your fault. You haven't seen another staff member for a while. The air feels staler, you leave footsteps in the dust on the floor. Maybe you've gone too far. You think to turn ba- You see a crack of sunlight. An unmistakable ray of soft light trespassing between the ordered domains of the ceiling lamps, coming from just beyond a fork in the maze that is the Site. You can see specks of dust dancing within it. It looks inviting. You turn the corner and step into the light. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ The dizzying sensation in your head disappears as quickly as it arrived. A fog lifted from the eye in your mind. You have felt this before. What was once a cause for fear and panic, now a mild annoyance. With newfound clarity, you confirm the truths of your predicament. You are no longer in the Site. While this was your original plan to begin with, that is, going outside, the scenery is wholly unfamiliar to you. It is clear that you are somewhere else entirely. There is nothing but dirt below your feet, paved into a road that runs into a town of dull grayscale buildings in the distance. Beyond, a wall of dark trees under a gloomy sky. It looks like it's about to rain. There's a wooden sign up ahead. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] WELCOME TO GREENLOUTH POPULATION: {{-1}} [[/div]] [[/=]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ You are very lost. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ This isn't the first time you've gone missing. You have been prone to appearing in far flung locations, remote even for the Foundation. You've gotten used to it at some point. Somewhere on your person, there is a GPS tracker. You hope someone notices your absence and comes to collect you. In the meantime? You have time to kill. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=image house.jpg]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ Walking down the rural road, you arrive at the first structure of note. A quaint white house with a flag hanging off the porch. There are signs in English, but you aren't quite sure what they're meant to signify. You identify that you are somewhere in the United States of America. That's good. You also reason that any locals would understand English, which makes things a lot easier for you. You approach the door, hand in a fist as you move in to knock. But then what? Are you going to ask for their telephone, to make a call to the Foundation? Ask the homeowners for shelter? What would you even say? What makes you think they would let you in? Knuckles meet wood before you can stop yourself. Flecks of white paint fall as you pull away. Now you've done it. It's too late. You follow through with another two shaky knocks. And then a "hello?" you weren't sure was audible enough. You cautiously circle the house, peering into dark windows. It seems like no one's home. You turn to the other houses along the road, your expectations nebulous and intentions underdeveloped. No one lives here. The air is quiet, all the lights are off, there are no cars anywhere along this road, and the sign you saw earlier floats around your mind. There's no one here. So why negative one? @@@@ @@@@ ---- You circle around the small cemetery on the outskirts of the town, inspecting the weathered stone, treading carefully on a poorly defined path in the dirt. You wouldn't want to disturb the dead, now would you? It's been a while since you've visited a cemetery. You weren't even there for a funeral. It was a long time ago. The one you're standing in right now is a lot smaller. Their headstones duller ten times over, and nowhere near as ornate, and after an embarrassingly lengthy period of inspection you notice something. The headstones have nothing carved into them. Spooky. Maybe there's nothing buried under them. Maybe the town exhumed their dead and brought them away from this place. To have them rot somewhere else. Maybe this is a vestigial graveyard, a memorial for what used to be a resting place for the people who lived and died in Greenlouth. You feel pretty confident that no one rests eternal under your heel at this moment. You also feel confident that you've spent more than enough time contemplating the cemetery. You leave, thinking self-satisfactorily that you've got the cemetery all figured out, and also because you're too much of a coward to actually confirm anything. In fact, you walk right past a maintenance shed that might contain a shovel, thinking nothing of it. You glance back once more at the cemetery, half-expecting to see some manner of ghost staring back, but there is nothing in the cemetery. @@@@ @@@@ ---- Wandering into the town center, you take in the sights of a town left to the whimsy of the wind and the rain and the overgrowth. This could've been a sizable town once. As you stroll past the dusty display window of a former bakery, you catch your reflection amidst the loaves of very stale bread. @@@@ @@@@ //Why are you here?// @@@@ @@@@ Your 'involuntary translocations', a term used in something you read before but don't remember where, more often than not have a purpose of some sort. That there's always something you end up doing there, wherever 'there' is. Otherwise, there's no other plausible reason for you to be 'there', or more appropriately, here. Right? @@@@ @@@@ //So why are you here?// @@@@ @@@@ You wonder how the bread in the bakery still looked edible. Is that it? Alex Thorley and the Mystery of the Ghost Town? Alex Thorley and the Suspiciously Mold Free Bread? Alex Thorley... the Investigator? You question whether there's anything in this town that needs investigating at all. And even if there was, what are you going to do? You haven't any fancy equipment to detect radiation or energies unknown to modern science. You haven't seen any corpses to poke or people to interview. It is just you, and the ghost town with nothing in it. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=image hall.jpg width=60%]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ As you pass by what seemed to be the town hall, your mind wanders to questions of bureaucracy. You reason that in some office, some census taker simply filled in an erroneous value for the town's population. Does that seem right? @@@@ @@@@ //No.// @@@@ @@@@ The windows of the town hall are sealed. There’s graffiti on its walls. You aren’t sure what they’re meant to convey. The main entrance is guarded by two large mahogany doors that have long betrayed their purpose, unveiling a dark foyer within, eclipsed by the panels covering the windows but exposed to the elements nonetheless. This was not some remote village forgotten by the maps. This was a sizable town, which meant someone else would've had to come all the way up here just to change the sign, and a negative number is very conspicuous. @@@@ @@@@ //So's a zero.// @@@@ @@@@ From what little light filters through, you can make out a few filing cabinets, a desk, maybe, and tattered curtains trailing into the shadows. It looks cold inside. Is there even a point in changing the sign then? Maybe this was just a high effort prank. A poorly thought out joke that depreciated in comedic value when the prankster realized there was no one in the town to find it funny. Or perhaps a final hurrah from the last resident before they left. You wonder if you should laugh. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ You've somehow wandered into a theatre. The old kind, for stage plays instead of movies. Sunlight filters in from the ceiling from unseen windows, illuminating the theatre in the same dismal light that bathes the town. For what it's worth, it makes things bright enough for you to appreciate the peeling wallpaper, the rusting ornate decorations, the faded seats and carpet. You seat yourself in what was once the front row, beneath opulent arches and elaborate frescoes on the ceiling, too far for you to make out. You wonder what plays they used to put on here. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=image theatre.jpg width=80%]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ How many people is negative one? //That doesn't sound like a grammatically correct sentence.// @@@@ @@@@ There are over 100 seats in the theatre. Probably. Counting them all was never a task you registered as possible when you stepped in here. What does it matter anyway? There’s no audience coming. @@@@ @@@@ Is it the absence of a person? //That is a zero.// @@@@ @@@@ A large chandelier rests on the seats behind you. It looks deflated, now that it’s no longer suspended from the ceiling. The floor must be a chandelier’s version of hell, to be cast out from great heights by the powers that be. @@@@ @@@@ Is it the absence of a person where there ought to be one? //No. That is still a zero.// @@@@ @@@@ The stage remains structurally sound. Probably. The dark wood conceals any cracks and holes that may or may not exist fairly well, if it weren’t for the dust and plaster and debris that blanket everything. @@@@ @@@@ A ghost? //A ghost is still a something.// @@@@ @@@@ The curtains have faded over the years, but retain their distinct and complex patterns as they lie collapsed on the stage. You are reminded of an old TV show, where they uncover golden artifacts from an archaeological excavation. Unlike those trinkets, these curtains will never shine again. @@@@ @@@@ How can there be a negative value of a something? //Negative one is the inverse of one.// @@@@ @@@@ The wallpaper seems to be decomposing in some places. You see mold. Exposed brickwall elsewhere. @@@@ @@@@ What is the inverse of a human being? @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ You leave the theatre. The skies are still cloudy. You aren't sure how much time has passed. Outside the theatre is a large sculpture of a sundial. It's broken. The shadow-casting part lies flat on the pedestal, pointing down one of the streets in the middle of town. You wouldn't have been able to use it anyway. You glance at the bricks in the wall of the building you find yourself standing next to. It might’ve been a warehouse, or perhaps a factory. You can barely see your own shadow under the overcast sky. But you would know how to use the sundial if it worked. Probably. There's a thought at the back of your mind now as you begin another round of window shopping. It's telling you to ask why the sundial is broken amidst your inspection of the suits and skirts and shirts in the display windows. Maybe you can hold onto that question for whoever comes to inspect this place after you. There’s a church across the street. A clinic a little further down. Shops and restaurants and bars and other establishments peppered everywhere else. They are all as run down, as quiet, as empty and hollow as every other structure in this town. You have seen everything there is to see. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ You take a seat on the steps leading up to the church, on a patch of concrete with a less prominent infestation of overgrowth. The waiting game continues. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ ---- The sound of an engine draws closer. The Foundation has come to pick you up. The vehicle enters your vision, coming to a halt just before the church. You expect to greet the driver, but it appears that the Foundation has sent a self-driving car to collect you. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ You gaze out of the car window as it drives out of Greenlouth. You can retrace your steps as asphalt slowly turns into dirt, and the buildings become smaller and more spaced out. The same sign greets you on your way out. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=image road.jpg width="100%"]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] WELCOME TO GREENLOUTH POPULATION: {{0}} [[/div]] [[/=]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ There is nothing in Greenlouth. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] > Name: house.jpg > Author: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Faolin42 > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dickinson_Hall,_1890,_West_Northfield_MA.jpg > Name: hall.jpg > Author: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Crash575 > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Metropolitan_State_Hospital_Admin_Building.jpg > Name: theatre.jpg > Author: https://www.flickr.com/people/45795292@N00 > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:BostonOperaHouse_Massachusetts_2546399997.jpg > Name: road.jpg > Author: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Faolin42 > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:River_Road,_Satans_Kingdom_MA.jpg [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-09-25T21:00:00	[ "_cc", "alex-thorley", "surrealism", "tale", "unreality-dept", "untitled-series" ]	Sundial - SCP Foundation	54	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "unreality-hub" ]	[]	1450175625	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sundial
surprise-happy-birthday-11	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p>Good day, my friend. May I come in?</p> <p>You’ve returned, as have we. Like the night to day, one thing always follows the other. Day into night, summer into winter. Back again - isn’t that right? We can always rely on seeing you. And it is so good to see you here.</p> <p>And we hope you can find some comfort in us, too. The words may change here or there, and so might we - but some things stay the same.</p> <p>Some days it’s difficult to feel the warmth. To see the comfort there, whether in the light or in the dark. The blazing bright of day, or the dark cruelty of dim - literal, and metaphorical of course. They both may sear us. I suppose it’s another way of saying that trials come for us in all shapes, challenges relentless from even those places that may have once brought us comfort.</p> <p>I once saw a light in the hallway - but I was alone.</p> <p>Isn’t that peculiar?</p> <p>Even something so gentle could chill to the bone.</p> <p>But there is something to be said of familiarity. Do you recall the old fright? From the cradle and the pit, from other days. I hope it has never left you. It may never leave you. It may shy away sometimes, like a strange beast in your heart, a shadow lost and unsure of where to go as its den grows great and deep. It’s a little sweet, I think. In my heart I care for that beast, so it may never truly leave me. So we may face the light together.</p> <p>Happy birthday, Gears, and to all those shadows that forever cling.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>Annually, we will make a special mention of <a href="https://www.cancerresearch.org/">the Cancer Research Institute</a> each Gears Day. This is an American cancer research charity with a good reputation. Please consider donating.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Burning Seaweed by D3R34L1Z4T10N</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;"> Happy birthday to one of if not the most influential authors on here! Here's to another wonderful year Dr. Gears. You're an inspiration to us all</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>I was travelling through Scotland, you see. As an archeologist, I am disposed to have a curious nature and had longed to explore a land so rich in history. In Scotland, you can taste the history in the air and feel it in the bones of the castles and smell it as it drifts across the fog of the moors.<br/> As chance would have it, I found myself on Orkney island of Stronsay at a fine pub enjoying a glass of locally made scotch before turning in for the evening. The Scottish folk of the region, being the friendly folk they are, were having a good deal of fun (and I guessed at the time) telling stories of all the local ghosts and boogiemen. At the time, I suspected they were just having a bit of fun with the gullible American tourist… oh, how I should have listened to them.<br/> There was one tale of a local daemon they called a Nuckelavee who seemed to haunt a graveyard on the cliffs by the sea. One man, claiming to see the great beast, said that it had the body of a horse, but the torso and head of a man. The arms and 4 legs were great tentacles that squirmed and grabbed tight anything in its reach. It also had the tail of a fish, so it can swim in the ocean as well. It had no skin, but you could see the rotting black muscles as it moved with yellow blood pulsing through its veins. But the most terrifying thing was its face. The head was larger than a human with the snout of a pig and one giant red eye. Most of the folk there claimed that this old man was just fibbing, and teased him mercilessly, yet something about this tale intrigued me.<br/> The next morning, I determined that I would go to the graveyard and search for this so-called daemon myself. After all, it was also rumored that Saint Magnus, the patron saint of Orkney was buried there. I could not possibly pass up such an opportunity. Oh, how I wish I had.<br/> I received directions from the proprietor of the Inn I was staying at and I soon found myself traveling down an old and seldom used road on that foggy morning. The drive through green lands along the cliffs was breathtakingly beautiful, yet I found a growing apprehension deep in my heart. I kept thinking of the fright in the eyes of the old man as he described the thing as well as the horrors that this Nuckelavee was said to deliver. He had told of its deadly breath that would make crops shrivel and die, sicken livestock, and caused anyone who was even brushed by its tentacles to sicken with a disease called Mortasheen. After a shiver, I laughed at myself. After all, this was not the first story of a local boogieman I had ever heard in my travels.<br/> I arrived at the ruins of the old graveyard at the base of a short cliff. There appeared to be an old church in the center of the graves that has since fallen into ruin and despair. The old tombstones were also in bad repair and it appeared that time had done their work on them too. I circled around towards the back behind what I assumed to be the old church still looking for the grave of Saint Magnus when I noticed what appeared to be a giant slab that had been pushed aside. I examined the slab; I saw what appeared to be an eye. This eye symbol was commonly known to be the symbol of the saint himself! I thought that this must be his tomb. I knew I should not go in, yet my curiosity again won out and I hoped to see the saints remains myself. Also, much to my detriment, as I will discover, I secretly hoped to find the source of the Nuckelavee legend.<br/> I had not thought to bring a flashlight, but since the graveyard not far from the ocean, there was dried seaweed around. I wrapped some around a slick and lit it with a lighter I carried. With my makeshift torch, I entered the tomb. It was much larger than I had expected and had several passageways that trailed back into the cliff. After some investigation, I found only one of the passages seemed to be man-made, the others appeared to be rough and uneven. There also appeared to be a horrible sulphury smell that emanated from them. I took the man made one since it must be where the saint was.<br/> As I followed the passage, I found several other eye carvings scratched on the walls. Perhaps these were silent prayers left to the saint? When I finally reached the end, though there was a rocky cairn, it appeared that the saint himself was long gone. Much disappointed and noticing that my torch was seeming to be burning low, I decided it was time to end my search and head back to town.<br/> As I began to turn around, that was when I noticed it. The smell… that strong sulphury smell, like eggs gone bad. I started to feel dizzy and sick as the scent got stronger. I had to get out! Now! I began to stumble as quickly as I could. And then I saw it! That horrible creature! It was breathing an acrid yellow vapor as its red eye flashed in the dying light! The last I remember, as my torch sputtered out, was the feel of its tentacles slowly moving up my legs, on to my waist and arms. Everywhere it touched my bare skin, I could feel how slimy they were, yet they burned like fire! As I opened my mouth to scream in terror and torment, the creature screamed as well, then all went black.<br/> Days later, I awoke at the inn. I could not remember much of what happened, though My body felt sore all over. The proprietor said that when I had not returned that evening or by the next morning as planned, he and the sheriff went up to the graveyard to see if something had happened. They found me laying in the middle of the old abandoned church flat on my back and raving gibberish. When they picked me up to take me back to town, I was burning with fever. They called the doctor to the inn and he gave me some medicine, but it took 4 days for my fever to come down and for me to quit my raving.<br/> I was astonished. At the time, I did not remember anything. The proprietor, officer, and the doctor kept asking me what had happened, but I barley even remembered arriving Orkney island, much less going to find Saint Magnus. I could, however, still feel a slimy burning across my skin, though the doctor assured me that there were no marks, though I still had a low fever.<br/> I decided it was best to return to my home in the states, where I could put all of this behind me, but the darkness would not leave my soul.<br/> After returning home, my dreams continued to be haunted by the horror, the red flashing eye, the terrible scream. I could feel the burning slime on my skin. The smell of eggs would make my stomach heave, and I progressively got sicker and sicker. Sometimes, I would catch a reflection out of the corner of my eyes of yellow pulsing veins or the flash a single giant red eye. The doctors could not help as they were unable to find a source of my distress. They decided that I must be experiencing extreme anxiety attacks and that I was on the verge of a mental break.<br/> But I remember it now. I know what happened, I know what I saw. I am not mad. I swear, this is exactly what happened.<br/> It has finally come for me. I cannot stand the pain and torment any longer. But does it care? It is up to you, my daughter, to find out. It is back in the ruins. I made a map. Go there. Trust me, you will find answers to the unanswerable.<br/> As for me, I will settle for darkness.<br/> I will not matter in the end.<br/> Neither will you.<br/> Nor my neighbor.<br/> None of us matter.<br/> Not compared to it.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Over for Dinner by newnykacolaquantum</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;"> Hey, Gears. Happy birthday. This is my first time participating in one of these, and I hope you like what I've wrote. You're an inspiration to us all!</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>You wait in front of your front door, your nerves twisting and untwisting into a ball from the anticipation.</p> <p>It had been a spur of the moment thing, inviting your new neighbors over for dinner, and you can't really fathom why you did so. You're usually so closed off around others; a shut-in, by all accounts.</p> <p>You run your hand over your cross necklace, grimacing.</p> <p>Perhaps it is altruism. Perhaps it is a chance to not feel so alone, with the way things are.</p> <p>You hear the knocking of the door. You straighten yourself up, take a deep breath, and put on your best smile.</p> <p>"Come in," you state through the door, "it's unlocked!"</p> <p>Almost immediately after you say so, the door is pushed open, revealing your next door neighbors beaming at you. A husband, a wife, and two sons. Good thing you had some spare chairs for just this occasion.</p> <p>"Well, howdy, neighbor," the man-Trey Stohk, he had introduced himself as-greets you, offering you a handshake that you're quick to accept. His grip is strong, and his hand is surprisingly cool. "Y'know, we've moved a lot these past few years, and you're the first person that's ever offered us a welcome meal."</p> <p>You just laugh it off with a dismissive little wave, saying that it's just the polite thing to do.</p> <p>You're properly introduced to the rest of Trey's family. His wife's name is Anna, and his sons' are Adam and Kent. You greet them in turn, and invite them into the dining room, where the dinner you've prepared is ready.</p> <p>The five of you make small talk on the walk over. Kent asks, bluntly, why you have such pale skin, which Anna promptly shushes and scolds him about. You say that it's alright, and that you just have a genetic vitamin D deficiency, but you take supplements to help with it.</p> <p>It's clear that Kent and Adam both have more questions that they want to ask you, but a quick stern glare from their mother quickly cows them into silence.</p> <p>Thankfully, it's an uneventful few more seconds as you finally turn the bend that leads to the kitchenette, a well-put together table with dinner rolls, linguine alfredo, grilled chicken, and fried rice all gathered in a circle in the center. Four seats have already been pulled out for your guests, and you take your seat in the remaining chair.</p> <p>The rest of them sit, and begin piling food onto their plates with looks of plain hunger in their eyes. Anna takes a few moments to pick the bits of shredded garlic off of her and Adam's food, stating that they're allergic. You give her a small nod of sympathy, and that you'll be more careful with what you cook in the future.</p> <p>After that is cleared up, you and the Stohks begin eating in earnest, occasionally pausing to engage in a bit of small talk. Trey is a night-guard at a nearby museum, he says while stirring his bowl of fried rice, while Anna twirls her alfredo around her fork and says she works four nights a week doing prep work at the Petsmart down the road, tidying things up before the store opens. It's tiring work, but it helps to support their boys as they get ready for middle school</p> <p>You answer in kind, after eating the last bit of chicken on your plate. You say that you're a remote worker for a transportation company, cataloging manifests and inventory and then sending the organized papers off to your bosses at night. You admit that it's kind of boring, but it helps you keep the lights on.</p> <p>You apologize to them as they polish off their plates, saying that it was too spur of the moment of a decision for you to prepare any dessert for the four of them. Trey simply waves it off with a grin, saying that he and Anna have been trying to ween sugar out of the kids' diets, anyway.</p> <p>The five of you stand up, and you shake Trey and Anna's hands in turn-noting that latter had a surprisingly strong grip-before thanking them for coming over. Kent and Adam both say they would love to come over again sometime, and you laugh, saying that it'd be up to their parents.</p> <p>It seems like they're amenable to the idea.</p> <p>You see them off, wishing them farewells and a good night, and when they turn the corner to their own home, you breathe a sigh of relief and quietly <em>click</em> the door shut.</p> <p>You go to work, tossing the cross off your neck into the nearby bin, and then heading into the kitchen to dispose of the remaining garlic as gingerly as you can.</p> <p>When all is said and done, you stumble into your living room, and collapse into your chair with a tired breath.</p> <p>The other vampires were right. Having humans over was exhausting and stressful work.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Unopened Mail, by HarryBlank</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Happy Birthday, and the very best of luck!</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>I don't dream very much anymore.</p> <p>I used to dream every night. The usual stuff: weird, but not weird enough that anyone else would ever want to hear about it. Narratives that go nowhere. People you haven't thought about for decades popping back into your mind. Fears and anxieties taking the form of unlikely embarrassments in unlikely places. School-related horror. God, is there any genre more universal than school-related horror? I got my undergraduate degree fifteen years ago, and I still dream about having accidentally failed to attend an entire semester's worth of classes, and uh oh, here comes the exam…</p> <p>But now I don't dream much. I think it's because of the time of day when I sleep, by which I mean I go to sleep during the day. Because I can, and I'm lazy. I love <em>being</em> asleep, but I hate <em>going</em> to sleep, so I stay up until six or seven in the morning and then sleep into the late afternoon. For some reason, that seems to stop me from dreaming entirely. Maybe it's the heat from the sun, maybe it's what little daylight penetrates my curtains. Maybe I'm not getting enough REM sleep, I don't know. Maybe it's the meds. But for the most part, I sleep the sleep of the dead.</p> <p>Until I make poor decisions, and find myself accruing sleep debt, and decide to reset the system by getting a solid ten hours starting at a sensible time. Sleep through the night. Wake up in the <em>early</em> afternoon. Recharge the batteries.</p> <p>Then, I dream.</p> <p>Frantically.</p> <p>That's the only way I know how to describe it. There's an urgency to the dreams, like they have to tell me something important and they have to tell me <em>now,</em> there's no time to waste, so off we go. There's no old friends/old fears/schoolwork bullshit when I dream these days. It's always a journey, and it never makes any sense, but it also feels terribly like it <em>should</em> make sense, like there's some vital meaning I'm just not getting but <em>could</em> get if I'd only think about it a little harder. The memories linger a lot longer after I wake up, too. Like I know I need to figure it out.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>I'm standing on a hill in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, looking down on a beaten asphalt road. Sylvester Stallone is standing on the road, and he is brandishing his shiny silver watch at me from a distance, and he is shouting. He is shouting, as though this were the explanation for something he had done, "It's got BUTTONS! It's got SIX-TEEN BUTTONS!"</em></p> </div> <p>Is this my fault? Am I doing something wrong? Is my subconscious getting lonely without me? I've heard that stuff about how your dreams are supposed to help your brain process its experiences, but what the fuck experiences do I even have to process that could produce an end product like this? And why does it always feel like I'm looking through the unread messages in the Most Important Inbox, like these missives from dreamland are somehow the key to stopping something terrible from happening? Are these even my dreams, or does my anxiety disorder dream separately and only maybe once a month?</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>My dad and I are watching a TV show that shows a medical procedure in graphic detail: they use this huge handheld stamp-stapler thing down a line from your neck to your stomach, which pulls all the skin and fat higher so your ribcage sticks out very dramatically. It's apparently to solve some breathing condition. It's so gross we both have to look away.</em></p> <p><em>Then I get it done myself.</em></p> </div> <p>I've got a friend who doesn't talk to many people on an average day, and when I talk with him, he tells me absolutely everything that's going through his head. Every detail about his day, like it's all equally urgent and worthy of commemoration. An indiscriminate flow. I don't talk to him as often as I should, so when we do connect, he absolutely unloads all this stuff in a torrent while I desperately grasp for a handhold. The dreams are getting a little like that.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>I'm standing in some large outdoor space; I think's a canyon ledge, with a bridge across the canyon, but also walls rising up farther on every side. People are walking up and down the bridge, going places. I'm at one end, with an ill-defined group of people. We're moving some thing around, a device, and it's having a peculiar effect that varies in intensity depending on its settings. It's summoning flies. I can see them following the device back and forth as it gets carried over the bridge. One of the settings is particularly potent apparently, and it generates an absolutely massive swarm of flies that blackens out the bridge entirely. I turn away, but not in time. I get several very large green bottleflies up my nose. I'm able to pull one out by its wing, but the next one starts coming apart as I pull, and it squirms, and I can feel another one moving around even deeper in my nose, and I start snorting violently to get it out in a blind panic. I wake up still snorting, and I hear something scurry away as I became conscious, and it takes a few seconds for me to stop trying to expel the flies.</em></p> </div> <p>I don't like to think about this too much, because the explanation that makes the most sense to me is also kind of upsetting. Whatever part of my brain keeps trying to reach me in these dreams is getting shut out by my sleep schedule, and all the things it wants to say are piling up into a great big heap of nonsense that occasionally bursts the dam and drowns my drowsy mind in incomprehensible terrors. If I slept better, would I start recognizing the themes and symbols and messages again? Would I stop waking up with a sense of ineffable dread tightening my chest? Would my subconscious stop screaming if I simply let it <span style="text-decoration: underline;">talk</span> more often?</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>I'm holding some bizarre contraption, a two-part cylinder full of tense metal pegs. A few pop out if I pull the lid too far off, and it's hard to force them back in because of the metal tension. I'm monologuing nonsensically to myself while fiddling with it. I accidentally pull the lid so high that all the pegs release at once at the moment I say "And then I thought, why, if Somerset Maugham were here," and an absolute geyser of tiny rats stream out from inside the cylinder all over me and I wake up shouting.</em></p> </div> <p>I suppose there's another possibility.</p> <p>The meds don't drug me, they drug the voice that isn't me. I tolerate the loss of focus, the blurry eyes, the poor sense of balance and the sensitivity to light because it mutes the endless monologue of things I do not need to know, the things it thinks are life or death because I've lost the chemical capacity to release unwanted thoughts. The voice is still back there, muttering darkly to itself that everything I'm doing is wrong, and I need to do something, I need to do something <span style="text-decoration: underline;">now</span>, or it'll all come crashing down… but more and more, it becomes a background hum. My mind is mostly my own again. I can narrate my own life.</p> <p>Until I'm tired.</p> <p>And my defences are low.</p> <p>And it knows I can hear it now.</p> <p>So it screams.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">My Magical Pen by Hayful</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Happy birthday Dr Gears! Thanks for creating some of the most important SCPs that exist. Please excuse the poor quality as this is my first creepypasta :/</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>There was a point in time where I loved my magical pen. It was amazing. It could do many things like light up, play sounds and even change the color of its ink! However, there was also one very special ability it had that no other pen had. My pen could give life to any object.</p> <p>It was a simple process. Just drawing a smiley face on any object you desire would make it come to life. Whenever I was bored, I would draw a smiley face on the most random of objects and watch them gain consciousness. And after my traumatizing experience with a gigantic flowerpot, I never dared to draw a smiley face on anything larger than a dictionary - so there was no worry of me accidentally making entire buildings come to life. The objects never really did much, maybe walk a bit and do some exploring but they were relatively passive. They would then return to their lifeless states after a brisk 24 hours. I always thought my pen was harmless, but I couldn’t be further from the truth.</p> <p>My Granny had passed away in the early months of 1998. To be quite frank, I wasn’t very sad but I knew that my mother was. She was heartbroken. Crying quietly behind a closed door, my father and I listened helplessly to her tears. Hearing her crying made me sad too so I decided to show her what my pen could do (I’ve always kept my pen a secret). I rummaged through our dusty attic, pen in hand, and found a dusty picture of Granny. She was wearing a black gown amongst the trees. It was perfect. I drew a crude smiley face on the shiny film and waited. I sat there for 2 hours and waited. But nothing happened. Puzzled, I left the attic leaving the picture behind. That was incredibly strange. Why didn’t the image come to life? However, I briskly forgot about it as dinnertime rapidly approached.</p> <p>As I snuggled into bed that night, my memory suddenly fizzled back and relived the strange moments in the dusty attic. I grabbed a piece of paper and did my magic with my pen. It came to life. How strange. I took my toy off its shelf and drew a face. It moved. How very very strange. I was exhausted though, so I forced the thought out of my mind as my head hit the pillow.</p> <p>Thunder roaring, I woke up at 3 am with a desert-dry throat. As I reached for my lamp, I froze. Just standing in the corner was a figure, observing me quietly. I yanked the metal string attached to my lamp to illuminate my room, hoping that the shadow was just my tired eyes playing tricks on me. They weren’t. There in the corner stood Granny, looking straight at me. But she was very different. Her eyes had been sewed shut with green yarn with blood slowly trickling down her eyelids. A big black hole resided where her mouth should’ve been with a yellowish goo dripping onto the floor with a sizzling sound. Her back was hunched over at an uncomfortable angle and the black gown that she was wearing in the picture wrapped her wire-thin body. I tried to scream but realized I couldn’t. I swiveled my head towards the mirror and saw, with horror, that my mouth had been sewed shut just like Granny’s eyes. Tiny rivulets of blood made their way from my chin to my bedsheets. I grabbed at the yarn and pulled. But it was no use as it was sewn too tightly. Gripping the blanket, I yanked it out of my lap and saw that the same green yarn was sewn into my thighs. Connecting me to the mattress. I looked back at Granny when she suddenly spoke, “It’s ok Hon! It’s just you and me now! Very soon, we’ll all be reunited together. You, Mummy, Daddy and I!” she cackled as she approached my bed.<br/> ‘Don’t come near me!’ I mentally screamed. And yet she came. Closer and closer still.<br/> “Hush now, you won’t feel a thing.”</p> <p>I did feel a thing. More than a thing. I felt pain coursing through my veins as she sewed my hands to the bed. I could feel the needle penetrating my flesh and bone. She had an iron grip on my hands as they attempted to push her away. ‘Why Granny? WHY?’ I cried out in my brain.<br/> “I got your request from that magic pen of yours hon. Isn’t this what you wanted? To be reunited with Granny?” she replied. I didn’t have time to process this though as she then attended to my eyes. She pulled my eyelids out and thrust the sewing needle into my flesh whilst cackling to herself. The pain was unbearable but yet I couldn’t move. With every catch stitch, I could see less and less until I was left in the dark. I could feel the cold needle slowly start making its way into my nostrils - eventually going to suffocate me. As I felt my oxygen slowly disappear, my hands violently thrashed about trying to make it stop. ‘Hush child, let it run its course. Just relax, and in no time we will all be reunited!’ she crooned as her voice slowly grew distant. I could feel my lungs begin to burn as I tried to lift my legs up only to be met with the searing pain of yarn digging deeper into my flesh. Tears slowly appeared underneath my shut eyelids - putting immense pressure on my eyes. My lungs felt like they were on fire now. But as I kept trying to rip the yarn out, it kept me still like a statue. However, despite the hell I was clearly in, the house was silent. Not a peep could be heard.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Forever Alone by Synthpanda_</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Have a good birthday!</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>The last time I saw another person was three days ago, on Sunday.</p> <p>The fridge was empty, so I went to the grocery store a few blocks away. The cashier who rung me up looked at my three boxes of instant ramen, and asked me if I was buying anything else. It's store policy to ask that every time, but I could feel the scorn under her voice. She didn't want to have to see me. There were plenty of people out and about while I was walking home, as always, so I didn't really pay any attention to any of them.</p> <p>I microwaved the instant ramen, and burnt myself while eating it. I asked my high school friends if they wanted to hop on a game together, and none of them responded. Not that I expected them too. I felt a bad headache coming on, so I took a few painkillers and passed out around 7.</p> <p>When I woke up again, my migraines were back, and they were at the worst they've ever been. I couldn't stand for most of the time I was lucid, because moving only made the pain surge. It was too hot to hold a thought, anyways, so all I was really thought about was how hot and sticky it was, and how much my head hurt.</p> <p>When I get like that, it's hard to tell my dreams sometimes bleed into memory. I remember hearing doors opening, people muttering, and footsteps in the hall. I remember stumbling over to the door, and peaking out of the peephole, and seeing my whole floor, walking towards the balcony on the far end of the floor. I remember they looked nervous, and I remember them glancing at each other, worried. I think that was a dream, but I'm not so sure anymore.</p> <p>I know I missed a whole day, because when I woke up, it was 2 PM on Tuesday. My head still hurt like hell, so I went to grab more painkillers, and I realized I was out. I put on a better smelling shirt, and headed out of the building for the drug store.</p> <p>I live in the city. More accurately, I live on the side of a highway that leads right into the city. When I exited the building, the highway was completely empty. In hindsight, this was weird, especially since it was the middle of the day. I could still hear traffic noises, out in the direction of the city, so I just assumed the street had been closed down, and didn't give it a second thought.</p> <p>I finally realized something was wrong when I got to the drug store. It was clearly open (all the lights were on and the automatic doors opened for me), but there weren't any people in the store. It occurred to me then that I hadn't seen any people on my walk over, either. I was able to get the painkillers, since the self-checkout was open, but I was thoroughly unsettled by that point.</p> <p>I must have walked 15 miles looking for signs of other people. I was living in Boston when the evacuation took place two years back, so I know what the aftermath of an evacuation looks like. No matter how well planned it is, the city's gonna look like shit afterwards. I remember seeing cars abandoned in the middle of the street, the impact of shoplifting, and litter from dropped supplies everywhere during the evacuation, and I don't see any of that now. All the cars are parked, none of the shops have been ransacked, and there's a normal amount of litter on the street. Its not as though everyone left, it's as though everyone vanished.</p> <p>Plus, I could still hear the sounds of the city. They were just always out of sight, no matter how far I walked.</p> <p>I'd left my phone at home when I left, so I didn't try texting anyone until I got back home. I texted my high school friends. No reply. I texted some people I'd met in college. No reply. I texted Mom and my brother, and I was even desperate enough to text my dad. No reply. I didn't really expect to hear anything back, but it was still a little disheartening.</p> <p>I'm on the roof of the building right now. I haven't been up here since they added the electric lock to prevent people from getting up here. I'm looking out onto the city right now, and its still completely empty. No people, just lights and noise with no apparent source. The worst part is, I can't really make myself care. I mean, what does this really change?</p> <p>I would have died alone anyways.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Idle Hands by tealquacks</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Happy birthday Gears! We haven't met, but you're such an inspiration that I had to do something for you. Thank you for writing such amazing things— you've made this community so much brighter.</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>The hospital has a Starbucks in it. I don’t know why that’s so striking to me, but it was the first thing I noticed when I walked in for the trials. A curved receptionist's desk, paintings on the bare walls, and a Starbucks. The wood flooring and yellow lights stand out among the sterile hospital environment. There’s a single worker mechanically making coffee after coffee for a long line. The receptionist catches me staring.</p> <p>“Are you a coffee drinker? They have the best iced lattes.”</p> <p>I laugh nervously.</p> <p>“If I had the money for Starbucks, I wouldn’t be here.”</p> <p>The receptionist gives me directions to the room I would be going to. Room 434. It’s not hard to find. The room is a typical hospital room. There’s a bed with blue sheets in a frame, surrounded by white walls. The tile is sandy brown. I sit in an uncomfortably small chair. My heart is pounding, but I can’t afford to be scared.</p> <p>Hospitals have scared me since I was a kid. I didn’t like how clean they were. Nowadays, hospitals make me squeamish for other reasons— bills. My sister got into a car wreck, and even with her insurance, we were facing thousands of dollars in bills. I haven’t been able to find a job, even with my degree in graphic design. I've been selling things, applying to every job I could, anything. So when I saw the ad for the drug trials, it was like a beacon from heaven.</p> <p>A man in a white coat comes into the room, a nurse flitting in behind him.</p> <p>“You must be Rebecca!”</p> <p>“That’s me.”</p> <p>“Good to meet you. I’m Dr. Middleton. You’re here for the trials, right?”</p> <p>I nod.</p> <p>“Fantastic. We’ll get started right away, but first I’ll need you to take off your clothes.”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“We need your measurements.”</p> <p>“What for? The drugs?”</p> <p>“Medical technology isn’t always drugs,” he says, “it’s any advancement that is made to better assist doctors and their practice. We’re going to be testing some equipment that is supposed to help people work more efficiently.”</p> <p>“I’m still getting paid, though, right?”</p> <p>“Yes, you are.”</p> <p>I grit my teeth and slip off my shirt. My shoes. Then my pants. My bra comes next, then underwear. The nurse takes a tape measure from her pocket and starts wrapping it around my body. She types every measurement down on her tablet.</p> <p>“What do you do for a living, Rebecca?” Middleton asks.</p> <p>“I’m in between jobs right now.”</p> <p>“You could always work at a restaurant. They’re always hiring— nobody wants to work anymore.”</p> <p>I awkwardly laugh.</p> <p>“They want restaurant experience, I’ve never worked in a restaurant.”</p> <p>“Really? I’m sure you'd make plenty of tips as a waitress.”</p> <p>The nurse is measuring my hips.</p> <p>“I’m looking for a job in design. It’s what I got my degree in.”</p> <p>Middleton grins,</p> <p>“Well, you know what they say about idle hands.”</p> <p>The nurse asks me to open my mouth. She measures the space between my teeth, the diameter of my jaw, and presses her gloved fingers against my tongue. I try not to gag at the taste of her latex gloves. The nurse pulls her fingers out of my mouth. I realize I haven’t heard her name. She closes her tablet, and gives me a paper gown and a pair of slippers. They’re the nicest slippers I’ve ever worn, plush memory foam making me feel like I’m walking in mud. They take me down a few rooms, until we come to room 452. Middleton opens the door for me. I step inside.</p> <p>“We’ll be back in just a few minutes, make yourself comfortable.”</p> <p>There are no chairs. One wall is made out of dark glass. He closes the door. I don’t dare approach the glass. I sit on the floor.</p> <p>They return- Middleton, two nurses, and a cart of machinery. I stand awkwardly. They take off my gown. Middleton smiles at me.</p> <p>“Some of these things might feel a bit weird, okay? If anything is too uncomfortable, please say something.”</p> <p>I nod. There’s a long, thin tube on the tray. A nurse picks it up.</p> <p>“Open your mouth,” she orders. I open it.</p> <p>She puts the tube in my mouth. It buzzes strangely. It loops around my ear, then down my back. Another nurse is putting electrodes on my legs, above my knees, below my knees, my pelvis, then up my spine. The first one takes a U shaped piece of metal. She opens my mouth with two fingers. There’s a part that goes over my bottom teeth. It circles my jaw, and connects behind my head. She pulls my hair aside and I hear a click. I try to ask if she’d just locked it, but between the tube and the jaw piece, all I can do is garble. Electrodes on my arms, metal on my joints, something that pinched the back of my neck, and lastly, a strange, black band. It wrapped around my chest, under my breasts, like a corset. It has little air sacks, which inflate and deflate with my breath. Middleton takes out a small black box. I can’t ask what it’s for. One of the nurses leaves.</p> <p>Middleton presses a button on the box. Searing pain shoots through my arms, muscles spasming, arms jerking up. My heart pounds. I wrap my hand around a cord, only for a shock to rip through me. The corset’s squeeze turns my scream into a gasp. My legs jerk. I take two steps forward. The tube almost blocks my airway, and with the corset, I can’t get enough air to scream.</p> <p>The glass wall goes transparent. A dozen men in sharp suits stare at me, their eyes curious. The nurse is talking to them, making gentle hand motions as the doctor makes me move. I try to read her lips. The doctor presses a button. Electricity rips through my arm and my hand curls like I’m grabbing an invisible cup. I walk to the glass wall, pulling an invisible lever. My hands move, pouring things. I hold out the invisible coffee I had just made. The corset squeezes so hard it cracks a rib, all the air leaving my body as the tube in my mouth buzzes like a talkbox.</p> <p>“Thank you,” my voice says, “have a nice day!”</p> <p>The men in suits smile at me. I’m forced to smile back.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Obstruction by ThatGuyThatTime</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Happy Birthday, to a writer and legend that pushed us to where we are now. Thank you, Dr. Gears.</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>It’s been 364 days since the Earth disappeared, and the moon keeps spinning.</p> <p>I wasn’t even there to watch, is the worst part. I needed some sleep after a long day, crawled into a bunk and fell right away. The Russian guy was the one who told me. I guess our timezones still apply up here for the first couple of days.</p> <p>At first we thought it was our fault. The station got rotated or something like that, just an angle problem. But our recorded footage shows no signs of movement on our part. Just what actually happened.</p> <p>One moment, it’s there. The moon passes over in front of our view, obstructing for a few hours. The next moment we can see past, earth is gone. No explanation, no final message from command; just gone. Nobody could understand what happened.</p> <p>It was a scary first couple of hours. Everyone realized that with no earth, well, there’s no anything. No food, no connection to our families, no resources for repairs, no goals. Just us in a space station. Alone with the stars. Well, the stars and the moon, which kept going.</p> <p>I can’t say anybody ever moved on. Some couldn’t handle the trauma, launched themselves right out. I don’t envy them, nor do I blame them. Sometimes I still see the few floating out there. Nowhere to go in space, not even in death.</p> <p>A few of them did it right as the moon was 'round a quarter of a full rotation, and floated so far they ended up behind the thing. I haven't been able to see them anymore.</p> <p>Food was the far from the worst issue; water came to plague us next. There’s only so much you can have on hand or generate in a limited capacity space station. It’s lasted thus far, but I can’t really expect any more than 2 months more. The deaths have lessened the severity of the problem.</p> <p>Sometimes I’ll just sit in the viewing bay for hours at end. We’ve lost almost all motivation to do anything, and there’s not much to do anyway. I’ll watch the moon go around, and around, and around. It never disappeared, nor did it lose its mesmerizing orbit.</p> <p>We never understood that. It just kept going and going and going. The Russian, he thinks it’ll be years before it drifts off course. That the former power of the magnetic fields and the momentum will keep on going and going. I have no reason to doubt him.</p> <p>Even still, it's strange. The moon, watching it going around. It was the last thing we saw before Earth vanished, obscuring it from view. There's stories about the moon, the others have told me. Stories of supposed benevolence, kindness. I don't know if I believe them.</p> <p>I'm afraid for when it'll pass in front of the sun again.</p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <hr/> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/surprise-happy-birthday-11">Surprise! Happy Birthday! Not quite the eleventh hour...</a>" by Dexanote, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/surprise-happy-birthday-11">https://scpwiki.com/surprise-happy-birthday-11</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [!-- NEATO! How do I add my own entry? Well, that's simple, my friend! Put your entry into a collapsible. Give us the name of your creepy pasta and your name as the "show", and put in a special birthday message as the "hide." Make sure you put in a line break. Also make sure you're in alphabetical order by author name! Have fun! And enjoy Gears Day. --] > Good day, my friend. May I come in? > > You’ve returned, as have we. Like the night to day, one thing always follows the other. Day into night, summer into winter. Back again - isn’t that right? We can always rely on seeing you. And it is so good to see you here. > > And we hope you can find some comfort in us, too. The words may change here or there, and so might we - but some things stay the same. > > Some days it’s difficult to feel the warmth. To see the comfort there, whether in the light or in the dark. The blazing bright of day, or the dark cruelty of dim - literal, and metaphorical of course. They both may sear us. I suppose it’s another way of saying that trials come for us in all shapes, challenges relentless from even those places that may have once brought us comfort. > > I once saw a light in the hallway - but I was alone. > > Isn’t that peculiar? > > Even something so gentle could chill to the bone. > > But there is something to be said of familiarity. Do you recall the old fright? From the cradle and the pit, from other days. I hope it has never left you. It may never leave you. It may shy away sometimes, like a strange beast in your heart, a shadow lost and unsure of where to go as its den grows great and deep. It’s a little sweet, I think. In my heart I care for that beast, so it may never truly leave me. So we may face the light together. > > Happy birthday, Gears, and to all those shadows that forever cling. > Annually, we will make a special mention of [[[https://www.cancerresearch.org/ \| the Cancer Research Institute]]] each Gears Day. This is an American cancer research charity with a good reputation. Please consider donating. ----- [[collapsible show="Burning Seaweed by D3R34L1Z4T10N" hide=" Happy birthday to one of if not the most influential authors on here! Here's to another wonderful year Dr. Gears. You're an inspiration to us all"]] I was travelling through Scotland, you see. As an archeologist, I am disposed to have a curious nature and had longed to explore a land so rich in history. In Scotland, you can taste the history in the air and feel it in the bones of the castles and smell it as it drifts across the fog of the moors. As chance would have it, I found myself on Orkney island of Stronsay at a fine pub enjoying a glass of locally made scotch before turning in for the evening. The Scottish folk of the region, being the friendly folk they are, were having a good deal of fun (and I guessed at the time) telling stories of all the local ghosts and boogiemen. At the time, I suspected they were just having a bit of fun with the gullible American tourist… oh, how I should have listened to them. There was one tale of a local daemon they called a Nuckelavee who seemed to haunt a graveyard on the cliffs by the sea. One man, claiming to see the great beast, said that it had the body of a horse, but the torso and head of a man. The arms and 4 legs were great tentacles that squirmed and grabbed tight anything in its reach. It also had the tail of a fish, so it can swim in the ocean as well. It had no skin, but you could see the rotting black muscles as it moved with yellow blood pulsing through its veins. But the most terrifying thing was its face. The head was larger than a human with the snout of a pig and one giant red eye. Most of the folk there claimed that this old man was just fibbing, and teased him mercilessly, yet something about this tale intrigued me. The next morning, I determined that I would go to the graveyard and search for this so-called daemon myself. After all, it was also rumored that Saint Magnus, the patron saint of Orkney was buried there. I could not possibly pass up such an opportunity. Oh, how I wish I had. I received directions from the proprietor of the Inn I was staying at and I soon found myself traveling down an old and seldom used road on that foggy morning. The drive through green lands along the cliffs was breathtakingly beautiful, yet I found a growing apprehension deep in my heart. I kept thinking of the fright in the eyes of the old man as he described the thing as well as the horrors that this Nuckelavee was said to deliver. He had told of its deadly breath that would make crops shrivel and die, sicken livestock, and caused anyone who was even brushed by its tentacles to sicken with a disease called Mortasheen. After a shiver, I laughed at myself. After all, this was not the first story of a local boogieman I had ever heard in my travels. I arrived at the ruins of the old graveyard at the base of a short cliff. There appeared to be an old church in the center of the graves that has since fallen into ruin and despair. The old tombstones were also in bad repair and it appeared that time had done their work on them too. I circled around towards the back behind what I assumed to be the old church still looking for the grave of Saint Magnus when I noticed what appeared to be a giant slab that had been pushed aside. I examined the slab; I saw what appeared to be an eye. This eye symbol was commonly known to be the symbol of the saint himself! I thought that this must be his tomb. I knew I should not go in, yet my curiosity again won out and I hoped to see the saints remains myself. Also, much to my detriment, as I will discover, I secretly hoped to find the source of the Nuckelavee legend. I had not thought to bring a flashlight, but since the graveyard not far from the ocean, there was dried seaweed around. I wrapped some around a slick and lit it with a lighter I carried. With my makeshift torch, I entered the tomb. It was much larger than I had expected and had several passageways that trailed back into the cliff. After some investigation, I found only one of the passages seemed to be man-made, the others appeared to be rough and uneven. There also appeared to be a horrible sulphury smell that emanated from them. I took the man made one since it must be where the saint was. As I followed the passage, I found several other eye carvings scratched on the walls. Perhaps these were silent prayers left to the saint? When I finally reached the end, though there was a rocky cairn, it appeared that the saint himself was long gone. Much disappointed and noticing that my torch was seeming to be burning low, I decided it was time to end my search and head back to town. As I began to turn around, that was when I noticed it. The smell… that strong sulphury smell, like eggs gone bad. I started to feel dizzy and sick as the scent got stronger. I had to get out! Now! I began to stumble as quickly as I could. And then I saw it! That horrible creature! It was breathing an acrid yellow vapor as its red eye flashed in the dying light! The last I remember, as my torch sputtered out, was the feel of its tentacles slowly moving up my legs, on to my waist and arms. Everywhere it touched my bare skin, I could feel how slimy they were, yet they burned like fire! As I opened my mouth to scream in terror and torment, the creature screamed as well, then all went black. Days later, I awoke at the inn. I could not remember much of what happened, though My body felt sore all over. The proprietor said that when I had not returned that evening or by the next morning as planned, he and the sheriff went up to the graveyard to see if something had happened. They found me laying in the middle of the old abandoned church flat on my back and raving gibberish. When they picked me up to take me back to town, I was burning with fever. They called the doctor to the inn and he gave me some medicine, but it took 4 days for my fever to come down and for me to quit my raving. I was astonished. At the time, I did not remember anything. The proprietor, officer, and the doctor kept asking me what had happened, but I barley even remembered arriving Orkney island, much less going to find Saint Magnus. I could, however, still feel a slimy burning across my skin, though the doctor assured me that there were no marks, though I still had a low fever. I decided it was best to return to my home in the states, where I could put all of this behind me, but the darkness would not leave my soul. After returning home, my dreams continued to be haunted by the horror, the red flashing eye, the terrible scream. I could feel the burning slime on my skin. The smell of eggs would make my stomach heave, and I progressively got sicker and sicker. Sometimes, I would catch a reflection out of the corner of my eyes of yellow pulsing veins or the flash a single giant red eye. The doctors could not help as they were unable to find a source of my distress. They decided that I must be experiencing extreme anxiety attacks and that I was on the verge of a mental break. But I remember it now. I know what happened, I know what I saw. I am not mad. I swear, this is exactly what happened. It has finally come for me. I cannot stand the pain and torment any longer. But does it care? It is up to you, my daughter, to find out. It is back in the ruins. I made a map. Go there. Trust me, you will find answers to the unanswerable. As for me, I will settle for darkness. I will not matter in the end. Neither will you. Nor my neighbor. None of us matter. Not compared to it. [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="Over for Dinner by newnykacolaquantum" hide=" Hey, Gears. Happy birthday. This is my first time participating in one of these, and I hope you like what I've wrote. You're an inspiration to us all!"]] You wait in front of your front door, your nerves twisting and untwisting into a ball from the anticipation. It had been a spur of the moment thing, inviting your new neighbors over for dinner, and you can't really fathom why you did so. You're usually so closed off around others; a shut-in, by all accounts. You run your hand over your cross necklace, grimacing. Perhaps it is altruism. Perhaps it is a chance to not feel so alone, with the way things are. You hear the knocking of the door. You straighten yourself up, take a deep breath, and put on your best smile. "Come in," you state through the door, "it's unlocked!" Almost immediately after you say so, the door is pushed open, revealing your next door neighbors beaming at you. A husband, a wife, and two sons. Good thing you had some spare chairs for just this occasion. "Well, howdy, neighbor," the man-Trey Stohk, he had introduced himself as-greets you, offering you a handshake that you're quick to accept. His grip is strong, and his hand is surprisingly cool. "Y'know, we've moved a lot these past few years, and you're the first person that's ever offered us a welcome meal." You just laugh it off with a dismissive little wave, saying that it's just the polite thing to do. You're properly introduced to the rest of Trey's family. His wife's name is Anna, and his sons' are Adam and Kent. You greet them in turn, and invite them into the dining room, where the dinner you've prepared is ready. The five of you make small talk on the walk over. Kent asks, bluntly, why you have such pale skin, which Anna promptly shushes and scolds him about. You say that it's alright, and that you just have a genetic vitamin D deficiency, but you take supplements to help with it. It's clear that Kent and Adam both have more questions that they want to ask you, but a quick stern glare from their mother quickly cows them into silence. Thankfully, it's an uneventful few more seconds as you finally turn the bend that leads to the kitchenette, a well-put together table with dinner rolls, linguine alfredo, grilled chicken, and fried rice all gathered in a circle in the center. Four seats have already been pulled out for your guests, and you take your seat in the remaining chair. The rest of them sit, and begin piling food onto their plates with looks of plain hunger in their eyes. Anna takes a few moments to pick the bits of shredded garlic off of her and Adam's food, stating that they're allergic. You give her a small nod of sympathy, and that you'll be more careful with what you cook in the future. After that is cleared up, you and the Stohks begin eating in earnest, occasionally pausing to engage in a bit of small talk. Trey is a night-guard at a nearby museum, he says while stirring his bowl of fried rice, while Anna twirls her alfredo around her fork and says she works four nights a week doing prep work at the Petsmart down the road, tidying things up before the store opens. It's tiring work, but it helps to support their boys as they get ready for middle school You answer in kind, after eating the last bit of chicken on your plate. You say that you're a remote worker for a transportation company, cataloging manifests and inventory and then sending the organized papers off to your bosses at night. You admit that it's kind of boring, but it helps you keep the lights on. You apologize to them as they polish off their plates, saying that it was too spur of the moment of a decision for you to prepare any dessert for the four of them. Trey simply waves it off with a grin, saying that he and Anna have been trying to ween sugar out of the kids' diets, anyway. The five of you stand up, and you shake Trey and Anna's hands in turn-noting that latter had a surprisingly strong grip-before thanking them for coming over. Kent and Adam both say they would love to come over again sometime, and you laugh, saying that it'd be up to their parents. It seems like they're amenable to the idea. You see them off, wishing them farewells and a good night, and when they turn the corner to their own home, you breathe a sigh of relief and quietly //click// the door shut. You go to work, tossing the cross off your neck into the nearby bin, and then heading into the kitchen to dispose of the remaining garlic as gingerly as you can. When all is said and done, you stumble into your living room, and collapse into your chair with a tired breath. The other vampires were right. Having humans over was exhausting and stressful work. [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="Unopened Mail, by HarryBlank" hide="Happy Birthday, and the very best of luck!"]] I don't dream very much anymore. I used to dream every night. The usual stuff: weird, but not weird enough that anyone else would ever want to hear about it. Narratives that go nowhere. People you haven't thought about for decades popping back into your mind. Fears and anxieties taking the form of unlikely embarrassments in unlikely places. School-related horror. God, is there any genre more universal than school-related horror? I got my undergraduate degree fifteen years ago, and I still dream about having accidentally failed to attend an entire semester's worth of classes, and uh oh, here comes the exam... But now I don't dream much. I think it's because of the time of day when I sleep, by which I mean I go to sleep during the day. Because I can, and I'm lazy. I love //being// asleep, but I hate //going// to sleep, so I stay up until six or seven in the morning and then sleep into the late afternoon. For some reason, that seems to stop me from dreaming entirely. Maybe it's the heat from the sun, maybe it's what little daylight penetrates my curtains. Maybe I'm not getting enough REM sleep, I don't know. Maybe it's the meds. But for the most part, I sleep the sleep of the dead. Until I make poor decisions, and find myself accruing sleep debt, and decide to reset the system by getting a solid ten hours starting at a sensible time. Sleep through the night. Wake up in the //early// afternoon. Recharge the batteries. Then, I dream. Frantically. That's the only way I know how to describe it. There's an urgency to the dreams, like they have to tell me something important and they have to tell me //now,// there's no time to waste, so off we go. There's no old friends/old fears/schoolwork bullshit when I dream these days. It's always a journey, and it never makes any sense, but it also feels terribly like it //should// make sense, like there's some vital meaning I'm just not getting but //could// get if I'd only think about it a little harder. The memories linger a lot longer after I wake up, too. Like I know I need to figure it out. [[div class="blockquote"]] //I'm standing on a hill in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, looking down on a beaten asphalt road. Sylvester Stallone is standing on the road, and he is brandishing his shiny silver watch at me from a distance, and he is shouting. He is shouting, as though this were the explanation for something he had done, "It's got BUTTONS! It's got SIX-TEEN BUTTONS!"// [[/div]] Is this my fault? Am I doing something wrong? Is my subconscious getting lonely without me? I've heard that stuff about how your dreams are supposed to help your brain process its experiences, but what the fuck experiences do I even have to process that could produce an end product like this? And why does it always feel like I'm looking through the unread messages in the Most Important Inbox, like these missives from dreamland are somehow the key to stopping something terrible from happening? Are these even my dreams, or does my anxiety disorder dream separately and only maybe once a month? [[div class="blockquote"]] //My dad and I are watching a TV show that shows a medical procedure in graphic detail: they use this huge handheld stamp-stapler thing down a line from your neck to your stomach, which pulls all the skin and fat higher so your ribcage sticks out very dramatically. It's apparently to solve some breathing condition. It's so gross we both have to look away.// //Then I get it done myself.// [[/div]] I've got a friend who doesn't talk to many people on an average day, and when I talk with him, he tells me absolutely everything that's going through his head. Every detail about his day, like it's all equally urgent and worthy of commemoration. An indiscriminate flow. I don't talk to him as often as I should, so when we do connect, he absolutely unloads all this stuff in a torrent while I desperately grasp for a handhold. The dreams are getting a little like that. [[div class="blockquote"]] //I'm standing in some large outdoor space; I think's a canyon ledge, with a bridge across the canyon, but also walls rising up farther on every side. People are walking up and down the bridge, going places. I'm at one end, with an ill-defined group of people. We're moving some thing around, a device, and it's having a peculiar effect that varies in intensity depending on its settings. It's summoning flies. I can see them following the device back and forth as it gets carried over the bridge. One of the settings is particularly potent apparently, and it generates an absolutely massive swarm of flies that blackens out the bridge entirely. I turn away, but not in time. I get several very large green bottleflies up my nose. I'm able to pull one out by its wing, but the next one starts coming apart as I pull, and it squirms, and I can feel another one moving around even deeper in my nose, and I start snorting violently to get it out in a blind panic. I wake up still snorting, and I hear something scurry away as I became conscious, and it takes a few seconds for me to stop trying to expel the flies.// [[/div]] I don't like to think about this too much, because the explanation that makes the most sense to me is also kind of upsetting. Whatever part of my brain keeps trying to reach me in these dreams is getting shut out by my sleep schedule, and all the things it wants to say are piling up into a great big heap of nonsense that occasionally bursts the dam and drowns my drowsy mind in incomprehensible terrors. If I slept better, would I start recognizing the themes and symbols and messages again? Would I stop waking up with a sense of ineffable dread tightening my chest? Would my subconscious stop screaming if I simply let it __talk__ more often? [[div class="blockquote"]] //I'm holding some bizarre contraption, a two-part cylinder full of tense metal pegs. A few pop out if I pull the lid too far off, and it's hard to force them back in because of the metal tension. I'm monologuing nonsensically to myself while fiddling with it. I accidentally pull the lid so high that all the pegs release at once at the moment I say "And then I thought, why, if Somerset Maugham were here," and an absolute geyser of tiny rats stream out from inside the cylinder all over me and I wake up shouting.// [[/div]] I suppose there's another possibility. The meds don't drug me, they drug the voice that isn't me. I tolerate the loss of focus, the blurry eyes, the poor sense of balance and the sensitivity to light because it mutes the endless monologue of things I do not need to know, the things it thinks are life or death because I've lost the chemical capacity to release unwanted thoughts. The voice is still back there, muttering darkly to itself that everything I'm doing is wrong, and I need to do something, I need to do something __now__, or it'll all come crashing down... but more and more, it becomes a background hum. My mind is mostly my own again. I can narrate my own life. Until I'm tired. And my defences are low. And it knows I can hear it now. So it screams. [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="My Magical Pen by Hayful" hide="Happy birthday Dr Gears! Thanks for creating some of the most important SCPs that exist. Please excuse the poor quality as this is my first creepypasta :/"]] There was a point in time where I loved my magical pen. It was amazing. It could do many things like light up, play sounds and even change the color of its ink! However, there was also one very special ability it had that no other pen had. My pen could give life to any object. It was a simple process. Just drawing a smiley face on any object you desire would make it come to life. Whenever I was bored, I would draw a smiley face on the most random of objects and watch them gain consciousness. And after my traumatizing experience with a gigantic flowerpot, I never dared to draw a smiley face on anything larger than a dictionary - so there was no worry of me accidentally making entire buildings come to life. The objects never really did much, maybe walk a bit and do some exploring but they were relatively passive. They would then return to their lifeless states after a brisk 24 hours. I always thought my pen was harmless, but I couldn’t be further from the truth. My Granny had passed away in the early months of 1998. To be quite frank, I wasn’t very sad but I knew that my mother was. She was heartbroken. Crying quietly behind a closed door, my father and I listened helplessly to her tears. Hearing her crying made me sad too so I decided to show her what my pen could do (I’ve always kept my pen a secret). I rummaged through our dusty attic, pen in hand, and found a dusty picture of Granny. She was wearing a black gown amongst the trees. It was perfect. I drew a crude smiley face on the shiny film and waited. I sat there for 2 hours and waited. But nothing happened. Puzzled, I left the attic leaving the picture behind. That was incredibly strange. Why didn’t the image come to life? However, I briskly forgot about it as dinnertime rapidly approached. As I snuggled into bed that night, my memory suddenly fizzled back and relived the strange moments in the dusty attic. I grabbed a piece of paper and did my magic with my pen. It came to life. How strange. I took my toy off its shelf and drew a face. It moved. How very very strange. I was exhausted though, so I forced the thought out of my mind as my head hit the pillow. Thunder roaring, I woke up at 3 am with a desert-dry throat. As I reached for my lamp, I froze. Just standing in the corner was a figure, observing me quietly. I yanked the metal string attached to my lamp to illuminate my room, hoping that the shadow was just my tired eyes playing tricks on me. They weren’t. There in the corner stood Granny, looking straight at me. But she was very different. Her eyes had been sewed shut with green yarn with blood slowly trickling down her eyelids. A big black hole resided where her mouth should’ve been with a yellowish goo dripping onto the floor with a sizzling sound. Her back was hunched over at an uncomfortable angle and the black gown that she was wearing in the picture wrapped her wire-thin body. I tried to scream but realized I couldn’t. I swiveled my head towards the mirror and saw, with horror, that my mouth had been sewed shut just like Granny’s eyes. Tiny rivulets of blood made their way from my chin to my bedsheets. I grabbed at the yarn and pulled. But it was no use as it was sewn too tightly. Gripping the blanket, I yanked it out of my lap and saw that the same green yarn was sewn into my thighs. Connecting me to the mattress. I looked back at Granny when she suddenly spoke, “It’s ok Hon! It’s just you and me now! Very soon, we’ll all be reunited together. You, Mummy, Daddy and I!” she cackled as she approached my bed. ‘Don’t come near me!’ I mentally screamed. And yet she came. Closer and closer still. “Hush now, you won’t feel a thing.” I did feel a thing. More than a thing. I felt pain coursing through my veins as she sewed my hands to the bed. I could feel the needle penetrating my flesh and bone. She had an iron grip on my hands as they attempted to push her away. ‘Why Granny? WHY?’ I cried out in my brain. “I got your request from that magic pen of yours hon. Isn’t this what you wanted? To be reunited with Granny?” she replied. I didn’t have time to process this though as she then attended to my eyes. She pulled my eyelids out and thrust the sewing needle into my flesh whilst cackling to herself. The pain was unbearable but yet I couldn’t move. With every catch stitch, I could see less and less until I was left in the dark. I could feel the cold needle slowly start making its way into my nostrils - eventually going to suffocate me. As I felt my oxygen slowly disappear, my hands violently thrashed about trying to make it stop. ‘Hush child, let it run its course. Just relax, and in no time we will all be reunited!’ she crooned as her voice slowly grew distant. I could feel my lungs begin to burn as I tried to lift my legs up only to be met with the searing pain of yarn digging deeper into my flesh. Tears slowly appeared underneath my shut eyelids - putting immense pressure on my eyes. My lungs felt like they were on fire now. But as I kept trying to rip the yarn out, it kept me still like a statue. However, despite the hell I was clearly in, the house was silent. Not a peep could be heard. [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="Forever Alone by Synthpanda_" hide="Have a good birthday!"]] The last time I saw another person was three days ago, on Sunday. The fridge was empty, so I went to the grocery store a few blocks away. The cashier who rung me up looked at my three boxes of instant ramen, and asked me if I was buying anything else. It's store policy to ask that every time, but I could feel the scorn under her voice. She didn't want to have to see me. There were plenty of people out and about while I was walking home, as always, so I didn't really pay any attention to any of them. I microwaved the instant ramen, and burnt myself while eating it. I asked my high school friends if they wanted to hop on a game together, and none of them responded. Not that I expected them too. I felt a bad headache coming on, so I took a few painkillers and passed out around 7. When I woke up again, my migraines were back, and they were at the worst they've ever been. I couldn't stand for most of the time I was lucid, because moving only made the pain surge. It was too hot to hold a thought, anyways, so all I was really thought about was how hot and sticky it was, and how much my head hurt. When I get like that, it's hard to tell my dreams sometimes bleed into memory. I remember hearing doors opening, people muttering, and footsteps in the hall. I remember stumbling over to the door, and peaking out of the peephole, and seeing my whole floor, walking towards the balcony on the far end of the floor. I remember they looked nervous, and I remember them glancing at each other, worried. I think that was a dream, but I'm not so sure anymore. I know I missed a whole day, because when I woke up, it was 2 PM on Tuesday. My head still hurt like hell, so I went to grab more painkillers, and I realized I was out. I put on a better smelling shirt, and headed out of the building for the drug store. I live in the city. More accurately, I live on the side of a highway that leads right into the city. When I exited the building, the highway was completely empty. In hindsight, this was weird, especially since it was the middle of the day. I could still hear traffic noises, out in the direction of the city, so I just assumed the street had been closed down, and didn't give it a second thought. I finally realized something was wrong when I got to the drug store. It was clearly open (all the lights were on and the automatic doors opened for me), but there weren't any people in the store. It occurred to me then that I hadn't seen any people on my walk over, either. I was able to get the painkillers, since the self-checkout was open, but I was thoroughly unsettled by that point. I must have walked 15 miles looking for signs of other people. I was living in Boston when the evacuation took place two years back, so I know what the aftermath of an evacuation looks like. No matter how well planned it is, the city's gonna look like shit afterwards. I remember seeing cars abandoned in the middle of the street, the impact of shoplifting, and litter from dropped supplies everywhere during the evacuation, and I don't see any of that now. All the cars are parked, none of the shops have been ransacked, and there's a normal amount of litter on the street. Its not as though everyone left, it's as though everyone vanished. Plus, I could still hear the sounds of the city. They were just always out of sight, no matter how far I walked. I'd left my phone at home when I left, so I didn't try texting anyone until I got back home. I texted my high school friends. No reply. I texted some people I'd met in college. No reply. I texted Mom and my brother, and I was even desperate enough to text my dad. No reply. I didn't really expect to hear anything back, but it was still a little disheartening. I'm on the roof of the building right now. I haven't been up here since they added the electric lock to prevent people from getting up here. I'm looking out onto the city right now, and its still completely empty. No people, just lights and noise with no apparent source. The worst part is, I can't really make myself care. I mean, what does this really change? I would have died alone anyways. [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="Idle Hands by tealquacks" hide="Happy birthday Gears! We haven't met, but you're such an inspiration that I had to do something for you. Thank you for writing such amazing things— you've made this community so much brighter."]] The hospital has a Starbucks in it. I don’t know why that’s so striking to me, but it was the first thing I noticed when I walked in for the trials. A curved receptionist's desk, paintings on the bare walls, and a Starbucks. The wood flooring and yellow lights stand out among the sterile hospital environment. There’s a single worker mechanically making coffee after coffee for a long line. The receptionist catches me staring. “Are you a coffee drinker? They have the best iced lattes.” I laugh nervously. “If I had the money for Starbucks, I wouldn’t be here.” The receptionist gives me directions to the room I would be going to. Room 434. It’s not hard to find. The room is a typical hospital room. There’s a bed with blue sheets in a frame, surrounded by white walls. The tile is sandy brown. I sit in an uncomfortably small chair. My heart is pounding, but I can’t afford to be scared. Hospitals have scared me since I was a kid. I didn’t like how clean they were. Nowadays, hospitals make me squeamish for other reasons— bills. My sister got into a car wreck, and even with her insurance, we were facing thousands of dollars in bills. I haven’t been able to find a job, even with my degree in graphic design. I've been selling things, applying to every job I could, anything. So when I saw the ad for the drug trials, it was like a beacon from heaven. A man in a white coat comes into the room, a nurse flitting in behind him. “You must be Rebecca!” “That’s me.” “Good to meet you. I’m Dr. Middleton. You’re here for the trials, right?” I nod. “Fantastic. We’ll get started right away, but first I’ll need you to take off your clothes.” “What?” “We need your measurements.” “What for? The drugs?” “Medical technology isn’t always drugs,” he says, “it’s any advancement that is made to better assist doctors and their practice. We’re going to be testing some equipment that is supposed to help people work more efficiently.” “I’m still getting paid, though, right?” “Yes, you are.” I grit my teeth and slip off my shirt. My shoes. Then my pants. My bra comes next, then underwear. The nurse takes a tape measure from her pocket and starts wrapping it around my body. She types every measurement down on her tablet. “What do you do for a living, Rebecca?” Middleton asks. “I’m in between jobs right now.” “You could always work at a restaurant. They’re always hiring— nobody wants to work anymore.” I awkwardly laugh. “They want restaurant experience, I’ve never worked in a restaurant.” “Really? I’m sure you'd make plenty of tips as a waitress.” The nurse is measuring my hips. “I’m looking for a job in design. It’s what I got my degree in.” Middleton grins, “Well, you know what they say about idle hands.” The nurse asks me to open my mouth. She measures the space between my teeth, the diameter of my jaw, and presses her gloved fingers against my tongue. I try not to gag at the taste of her latex gloves. The nurse pulls her fingers out of my mouth. I realize I haven’t heard her name. She closes her tablet, and gives me a paper gown and a pair of slippers. They’re the nicest slippers I’ve ever worn, plush memory foam making me feel like I’m walking in mud. They take me down a few rooms, until we come to room 452. Middleton opens the door for me. I step inside. “We’ll be back in just a few minutes, make yourself comfortable.” There are no chairs. One wall is made out of dark glass. He closes the door. I don’t dare approach the glass. I sit on the floor. They return- Middleton, two nurses, and a cart of machinery. I stand awkwardly. They take off my gown. Middleton smiles at me. “Some of these things might feel a bit weird, okay? If anything is too uncomfortable, please say something.” I nod. There’s a long, thin tube on the tray. A nurse picks it up. “Open your mouth,” she orders. I open it. She puts the tube in my mouth. It buzzes strangely. It loops around my ear, then down my back. Another nurse is putting electrodes on my legs, above my knees, below my knees, my pelvis, then up my spine. The first one takes a U shaped piece of metal. She opens my mouth with two fingers. There’s a part that goes over my bottom teeth. It circles my jaw, and connects behind my head. She pulls my hair aside and I hear a click. I try to ask if she’d just locked it, but between the tube and the jaw piece, all I can do is garble. Electrodes on my arms, metal on my joints, something that pinched the back of my neck, and lastly, a strange, black band. It wrapped around my chest, under my breasts, like a corset. It has little air sacks, which inflate and deflate with my breath. Middleton takes out a small black box. I can’t ask what it’s for. One of the nurses leaves. Middleton presses a button on the box. Searing pain shoots through my arms, muscles spasming, arms jerking up. My heart pounds. I wrap my hand around a cord, only for a shock to rip through me. The corset’s squeeze turns my scream into a gasp. My legs jerk. I take two steps forward. The tube almost blocks my airway, and with the corset, I can’t get enough air to scream. The glass wall goes transparent. A dozen men in sharp suits stare at me, their eyes curious. The nurse is talking to them, making gentle hand motions as the doctor makes me move. I try to read her lips. The doctor presses a button. Electricity rips through my arm and my hand curls like I’m grabbing an invisible cup. I walk to the glass wall, pulling an invisible lever. My hands move, pouring things. I hold out the invisible coffee I had just made. The corset squeezes so hard it cracks a rib, all the air leaving my body as the tube in my mouth buzzes like a talkbox. “Thank you,” my voice says, “have a nice day!” The men in suits smile at me. I’m forced to smile back. [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="Obstruction by ThatGuyThatTime" hide="Happy Birthday, to a writer and legend that pushed us to where we are now. Thank you, Dr. Gears."]] It’s been 364 days since the Earth disappeared, and the moon keeps spinning. I wasn’t even there to watch, is the worst part. I needed some sleep after a long day, crawled into a bunk and fell right away. The Russian guy was the one who told me. I guess our timezones still apply up here for the first couple of days. At first we thought it was our fault. The station got rotated or something like that, just an angle problem. But our recorded footage shows no signs of movement on our part. Just what actually happened. One moment, it’s there. The moon passes over in front of our view, obstructing for a few hours. The next moment we can see past, earth is gone. No explanation, no final message from command; just gone. Nobody could understand what happened. It was a scary first couple of hours. Everyone realized that with no earth, well, there’s no anything. No food, no connection to our families, no resources for repairs, no goals. Just us in a space station. Alone with the stars. Well, the stars and the moon, which kept going. I can’t say anybody ever moved on. Some couldn’t handle the trauma, launched themselves right out. I don’t envy them, nor do I blame them. Sometimes I still see the few floating out there. Nowhere to go in space, not even in death. A few of them did it right as the moon was 'round a quarter of a full rotation, and floated so far they ended up behind the thing. I haven't been able to see them anymore. Food was the far from the worst issue; water came to plague us next. There’s only so much you can have on hand or generate in a limited capacity space station. It’s lasted thus far, but I can’t really expect any more than 2 months more. The deaths have lessened the severity of the problem. Sometimes I’ll just sit in the viewing bay for hours at end. We’ve lost almost all motivation to do anything, and there’s not much to do anyway. I’ll watch the moon go around, and around, and around. It never disappeared, nor did it lose its mesmerizing orbit. We never understood that. It just kept going and going and going. The Russian, he thinks it’ll be years before it drifts off course. That the former power of the magnetic fields and the momentum will keep on going and going. I have no reason to doubt him. Even still, it's strange. The moon, watching it going around. It was the last thing we saw before Earth vanished, obscuring it from view. There's stories about the moon, the others have told me. Stories of supposed benevolence, kindness. I don't know if I believe them. I'm afraid for when it'll pass in front of the sun again. [[/collapsible]] ----- ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-18T17:11:00	[ "_licensebox", "collaboration", "creepypasta", "tale" ]	Surprise! Happy Birthday! Not quite the eleventh hour... - SCP Foundation	45	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "incident-reports-eye-witness-interviews-and-personal-logs", "gears-day-collection-hub", "collaboration-page-hub" ]	[]	1449430089	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/surprise-happy-birthday-11
swimming-lessons	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>10:42.</p> <p>Iris glared at the clock hanging above her in the locker room. For the past five minutes, she'd been staring at the second hand complete rotations around the circle.</p> <p>She didn't know why she was stalling, or at least why she was lying to herself that she was stalling. Adams usually didn't show up until 10:45, which meant twiddling her thumbs in the locker room did absolutely nothing. Actually, all it did was risk Iris being present when Adams did show up. Meaning Iris would be in the same room as Adams as she changed into her two-piece swim suit. A situation Iris did NOT want to be in.</p> <p>Still, Iris always sat on the wooden bench with chipping blue paint until just before Adams showed up. Probably out of spite, though even Iris didn't know why at this point.</p> <p>Letting out a deep, exasperated groan, Iris grabbed her towel and made her way towards the little corridor leading into the pool.</p> <p><em>Why did I ever say yes to these <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/friday-night/offset/2">swim lessons</a>…</em> She thought as she turned the corner.</p> <p>Oh well. It was something she needed to do, and not just for Alpha-9 either. Not knowing how to swim was like not knowing how to ride a bike, except swimming could potentially be life or death. MTF aside, Iris need to do this for herself. Besides, it could be worse. Adams could've just dropped her in some elementary swim lesson group with a bunch of toddlers. Instead, she had agreed to stay up later at night and do this with no one-</p> <p>Iris stopped dead as she stepped out into the main pool area. Standing right in front of the doorway and next to the pool was a man that seemed to be in his late thirties. He stood in nothing but green swim trunks, with his arms crossed in front of his chest.</p> <p>"Hello, commander." Foxx said, turning to Iris and waving.</p> <p>"What are you doing here?!" Iris demanded, stomping towards him.</p> <p>"Andrea invited me." He replied, lowering his arms.</p> <p>"Why?!"</p> <p>"Because you're so far behind I can't even make a joke about it."</p> <p>The two of them turned to Adams as she walked down the room.</p> <p>"You said I was doing fine!" Iris said, making it clear she was not ok with Adams breaking the <em>keep this thing between us</em> agreement.</p> <p>"No, I said we'll be fine if we picked up the pace a bit." Adams rebutted. "And that was like, two weeks ago."</p> <p>"But why is he here?!" Iris pointed at Foxx, who just awkwardly looked between the two women.</p> <p>"To help with teaching you." Adams began. "You were supposed to be on backstrokes by now. Believe it or not, these lessons have a deadline, and if we don't start getting you swimming soon, Clef is going to take over."</p> <p>Iris felt a chill run down her spine from dread. For as much as she hated Adam's teaching, she was certain Clef would've been a hundred times worse. If she was lucky, he'd just stand on the side yelling at her. If she wasn't, he would actually get in with-</p> <p>Shaking her head and forcing the vomit back down her throat, Iris opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off by Foxx.</p> <p>"Don't worry commander." He said, a little too happily. "I was a lifeguard and a swim teacher's assistant back in high school. I have an idea that'll get you swimming in no time."</p> <p>Iris looked at Foxx, then at Adams, then at Foxx, then at Adams.</p> <p>This was actually happening.</p> <p>"I'm going to go get changed." Adams said.</p> <p>Iris's eyes followed Adams as she entered locker room passage and rounded the corner. With Adams out of sight, she again turned back to Foxx.</p> <p>"So…" Foxx started, looking Iris up and down. "Where'd you get the wetsuit?"</p> <p>"Not important." Iris brushed the question off quickly to ask her own question. "You said you had an idea that'll get me swimming. What is it?"</p> <p>"I can't answer that." Foxx replied, puff his chest up ever so slightly.</p> <p>Iris gave Foxx a confused look.</p> <p>"What do you mean you can't answer that?"</p> <p>"If I told, it wouldn't work."</p> <p>Iris rolled her eyes.</p> <p>"Don't play games with me Foxx. What are you planning?"</p> <p>"I mean, I'd just do it now, but…" Foxx turned and looked at the locker room. "I think we should wait for-"</p> <p>"Forget Adams." Iris said. "Just get in the pool and show me what you want to do."</p> <p>Foxx eyed the locker room entrance one last time, then turned and began walking down the edge of the pool.</p> <p>"Follow me." He said.</p> <p>Curious to what Foxx had in mind, Iris trailed him as they made their way towards the end of the pool.</p> <p>Right by the deep end.</p> <p>"Tell me…" Foxx stopped and pointed at the water. "What do you see?"</p> <p>Iris glanced at it, then look back up at Foxx.</p> <p>"I don't see anything." She said, confused.</p> <p>Foxx shook his head and pointed again. "Look again."</p> <p>Stepping closer, Iris again looked down at the water below. It waved and softly clapped against the edge of the pool, and the chlorine stung at Iris's nostrils.</p> <p>Still not 100% sure what she was supposed to be seeing, she cautiously leaned forward a bit, careful not to fall in.</p> <p>"I still don't see-"</p> <p><strong><em>SPLASH</em></strong></p> <p>Iris was cut off as Foxx literally shoved her into the pool. She thrashed in the water, kicking and flailing her arms. The sound of heavy splashing echoed around the room as Iris tried to keep her head above water.</p> <p>"Foxx! You fu-!" Iris's voice was drowned out<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> as she sunk down.</p> <p>"What are you doing?!" Adams, now in her swimsuit, said as she ran out beside the older agent.</p> <p>"I told you I had a plan." Foxx responded, pointing towards the red 10 foot marker painted on the side of the pool.</p> <p>Iris's head reemerged for a split second. "Get me out of-!" was all she managed to get out before dropping back down.</p> <p>"Foxx…" Adams said in a tone similar to a mom trying to explain something very basic to her child. "You can't just throw Iris in the deep end like that."</p> <p>"Why not?" Foxx asked. "It's how I learned."</p> <p>Iris gasped. "Don't just stand-!"</p> <p>Both of them glanced at Iris as she temporarily surfaced… before looking back at each other to calmy continue their discussion.</p> <p>"You were just, tossed into the deep end?" Adams asked, not entirely buying it.</p> <p>"Yeah." Foxx replied, before placing a hand on his chin in thought. "Then again… it was my uncle who threw me in, and he was an asshole who hated me."</p> <p>Iris gasped. "I'll have you court martialed! I'll-!"</p> <p>Adams sighed. "Look Foxx. I asked you to come because you said you had experience with teaching people how to swim. You didn't just throw kids in the deep end in high school, did you?"</p> <p>"Actually we did. Well… I did… but only if they just would not learn. And it worked!"</p> <p>"Really?"</p> <p>"Yeah! On that one kid at least. I only did it once because I was fired right after I threw him in, but he learned more about swimming in those twenty seconds than he did that entire summer."</p> <p>Iris gasped. "Are you listening! Get in here and-!"</p> <p>"Look Adams, swimming is something everyone can do. It's in our biology. Even if you <em>think</em> you don't know how to, you will once put in a situation where it's life or death."</p> <p>"Foxx… people drown all the time. What are you talking about?"</p> <p>"Because they get tired, not because they don't know how to swim."</p> <p>"I don't think that's accurate."</p> <p>Iris gasped. "I'm going to dro-!"</p> <p>Adams shook her head. "Either way, all throwing Iris in the deep end is going to do is make her more afraid of the water. Besides, we're not just trying to teach her how to survive, we're trying to teach her certain swimming techniques. This…" She pointed to the anomaly flailing in the water. "…isn't teaching her jack."</p> <p>Foxx looked down at Iris, then back up at Adams.</p> <p>"I still think this is an effective way of learning."</p> <p>Iris gasped. "Please help me!"</p> <p>The rage in Iris's voice had disappeared. In its place was the fear and desperation of… well… someone drowning. This caused the two non-anomalies to both look down at the water.</p> <p>After a few minutes, Foxx let out a sigh and approached the edge of the pool.</p> <p>"Fine. I'll get her out."</p> <p>Stepping forward, Foxx jumped into the pool and began stroking over to Iris, still thrashing in place.</p> <p>"I'm here." Foxx said, grabbing the collar of Iris's wetsuit. "Hold onto me."</p> <p>He didn't need to say it twice. Immediately Iris wrapped her arms around Foxx's shoulders and clung to his back like a baby animal. Gasping and coughing, Iris took in quick yet deep breaths. Together, the two of them made their way to the edge of the pool.</p> <p>Iris crawled out first and stood bent over with her hands on her knees. Her arms and legs were trembling, and a few tears mixed with the chlorine water on her face.</p> <p>"Can… we… be… done…?" She wheezed between breaths. "Please?"</p> <p>Iris never said please to anyone, let alone Adams. She looked over at Foxx as he made his own way out of the water.</p> <p>Iris wasn't going to get any swimming done worked up like this.</p> <p>"Yeah." Adams said. "We can be done."</p> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. get it?</div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/swimming-lessons">Swimming Lessons</a>" by DrDapper, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/swimming-lessons">https://scpwiki.com/swimming-lessons</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] 10:42. Iris glared at the clock hanging above her in the locker room. For the past five minutes, she'd been staring at the second hand complete rotations around the circle. She didn't know why she was stalling, or at least why she was lying to herself that she was stalling. Adams usually didn't show up until 10:45, which meant twiddling her thumbs in the locker room did absolutely nothing. Actually, all it did was risk Iris being present when Adams did show up. Meaning Iris would be in the same room as Adams as she changed into her two-piece swim suit. A situation Iris did NOT want to be in. Still, Iris always sat on the wooden bench with chipping blue paint until just before Adams showed up. Probably out of spite, though even Iris didn't know why at this point. Letting out a deep, exasperated groan, Iris grabbed her towel and made her way towards the little corridor leading into the pool. //Why did I ever say yes to these [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/friday-night/offset/2 swim lessons]...// She thought as she turned the corner. Oh well. It was something she needed to do, and not just for Alpha-9 either. Not knowing how to swim was like not knowing how to ride a bike, except swimming could potentially be life or death. MTF aside, Iris need to do this for herself. Besides, it could be worse. Adams could've just dropped her in some elementary swim lesson group with a bunch of toddlers. Instead, she had agreed to stay up later at night and do this with no one- Iris stopped dead as she stepped out into the main pool area. Standing right in front of the doorway and next to the pool was a man that seemed to be in his late thirties. He stood in nothing but green swim trunks, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Hello, commander." Foxx said, turning to Iris and waving. "What are you doing here?!" Iris demanded, stomping towards him. "Andrea invited me." He replied, lowering his arms. "Why?!" "Because you're so far behind I can't even make a joke about it." The two of them turned to Adams as she walked down the room. "You said I was doing fine!" Iris said, making it clear she was not ok with Adams breaking the //keep this thing between us// agreement. "No, I said we'll be fine if we picked up the pace a bit." Adams rebutted. "And that was like, two weeks ago." "But why is he here?!" Iris pointed at Foxx, who just awkwardly looked between the two women. "To help with teaching you." Adams began. "You were supposed to be on backstrokes by now. Believe it or not, these lessons have a deadline, and if we don't start getting you swimming soon, Clef is going to take over." Iris felt a chill run down her spine from dread. For as much as she hated Adam's teaching, she was certain Clef would've been a hundred times worse. If she was lucky, he'd just stand on the side yelling at her. If she wasn't, he would actually get in with- Shaking her head and forcing the vomit back down her throat, Iris opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off by Foxx. "Don't worry commander." He said, a little too happily. "I was a lifeguard and a swim teacher's assistant back in high school. I have an idea that'll get you swimming in no time." Iris looked at Foxx, then at Adams, then at Foxx, then at Adams. This was actually happening. "I'm going to go get changed." Adams said. Iris's eyes followed Adams as she entered locker room passage and rounded the corner. With Adams out of sight, she again turned back to Foxx. "So..." Foxx started, looking Iris up and down. "Where'd you get the wetsuit?" "Not important." Iris brushed the question off quickly to ask her own question. "You said you had an idea that'll get me swimming. What is it?" "I can't answer that." Foxx replied, puff his chest up ever so slightly. Iris gave Foxx a confused look. "What do you mean you can't answer that?" "If I told, it wouldn't work." Iris rolled her eyes. "Don't play games with me Foxx. What are you planning?" "I mean, I'd just do it now, but..." Foxx turned and looked at the locker room. "I think we should wait for-" "Forget Adams." Iris said. "Just get in the pool and show me what you want to do." Foxx eyed the locker room entrance one last time, then turned and began walking down the edge of the pool. "Follow me." He said. Curious to what Foxx had in mind, Iris trailed him as they made their way towards the end of the pool. Right by the deep end. "Tell me..." Foxx stopped and pointed at the water. "What do you see?" Iris glanced at it, then look back up at Foxx. "I don't see anything." She said, confused. Foxx shook his head and pointed again. "Look again." Stepping closer, Iris again looked down at the water below. It waved and softly clapped against the edge of the pool, and the chlorine stung at Iris's nostrils. Still not 100% sure what she was supposed to be seeing, she cautiously leaned forward a bit, careful not to fall in. "I still don't see-" //SPLASH// Iris was cut off as Foxx literally shoved her into the pool. She thrashed in the water, kicking and flailing her arms. The sound of heavy splashing echoed around the room as Iris tried to keep her head above water. "Foxx! You fu-!" Iris's voice was drowned out[[footnote]]get it?[[/footnote]] as she sunk down. "What are you doing?!" Adams, now in her swimsuit, said as she ran out beside the older agent. "I told you I had a plan." Foxx responded, pointing towards the red 10 foot marker painted on the side of the pool. Iris's head reemerged for a split second. "Get me out of-!" was all she managed to get out before dropping back down. "Foxx..." Adams said in a tone similar to a mom trying to explain something very basic to her child. "You can't just throw Iris in the deep end like that." "Why not?" Foxx asked. "It's how I learned." Iris gasped. "Don't just stand-!" Both of them glanced at Iris as she temporarily surfaced... before looking back at each other to calmy continue their discussion. "You were just, tossed into the deep end?" Adams asked, not entirely buying it. "Yeah." Foxx replied, before placing a hand on his chin in thought. "Then again... it was my uncle who threw me in, and he was an asshole who hated me." Iris gasped. "I'll have you court martialed! I'll-!" Adams sighed. "Look Foxx. I asked you to come because you said you had experience with teaching people how to swim. You didn't just throw kids in the deep end in high school, did you?" "Actually we did. Well... I did... but only if they just would not learn. And it worked!" "Really?" "Yeah! On that one kid at least. I only did it once because I was fired right after I threw him in, but he learned more about swimming in those twenty seconds than he did that entire summer." Iris gasped. "Are you listening! Get in here and-!" "Look Adams, swimming is something everyone can do. It's in our biology. Even if you //think// you don't know how to, you will once put in a situation where it's life or death." "Foxx... people drown all the time. What are you talking about?" "Because they get tired, not because they don't know how to swim." "I don't think that's accurate." Iris gasped. "I'm going to dro-!" Adams shook her head. "Either way, all throwing Iris in the deep end is going to do is make her more afraid of the water. Besides, we're not just trying to teach her how to survive, we're trying to teach her certain swimming techniques. This..." She pointed to the anomaly flailing in the water. "...isn't teaching her jack." Foxx looked down at Iris, then back up at Adams. "I still think this is an effective way of learning." Iris gasped. "Please help me!" The rage in Iris's voice had disappeared. In its place was the fear and desperation of... well... someone drowning. This caused the two non-anomalies to both look down at the water. After a few minutes, Foxx let out a sigh and approached the edge of the pool. "Fine. I'll get her out." Stepping forward, Foxx jumped into the pool and began stroking over to Iris, still thrashing in place. "I'm here." Foxx said, grabbing the collar of Iris's wetsuit. "Hold onto me." He didn't need to say it twice. Immediately Iris wrapped her arms around Foxx's shoulders and clung to his back like a baby animal. Gasping and coughing, Iris took in quick yet deep breaths. Together, the two of them made their way to the edge of the pool. Iris crawled out first and stood bent over with her hands on her knees. Her arms and legs were trembling, and a few tears mixed with the chlorine water on her face. "Can... we... be... done...?" She wheezed between breaths. "Please?" Iris never said please to anyone, let alone Adams. She looked over at Foxx as he made his own way out of the water. Iris wasn't going to get any swimming done worked up like this. "Yeah." Adams said. "We can be done." [[footnoteblock]] [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[=]] \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/devils-advocate-hub Devil's Advocate Hub] \| [[/=]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=DrDapper]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-23T21:03:00	[ "_licensebox", "agent-adams", "black-comedy", "comedy", "iris-thompson", "resurrection", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Swimming Lessons - SCP Foundation	26	[ "friday-night/offset/2", "devils-advocate-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "revamped-underread-and-underrated", "north-star-hub", "devils-advocate-hub" ]	[]	1449529823	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/swimming-lessons
tactical-theology-disciplinary-meeting-diana-ribiero	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:ad-abyssum-penumbra&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none"> <p><span style="font-size:80%;">This bit down here controls the logo and subtitle changes. Is it cursed? Yes. Is it annoyingly effective? Also yes.</span></p> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">lgurl:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aad-abyssum-penumbra/tacttheo_{$division</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.png</span><span class="hl-code">); --header-subtitle: </span><span class="hl-identifier">var</span><span class="hl-code">(--</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code">$</span><span class="hl-identifier">division</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code">); }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> <p><a href="/scp-7777">Diana Ribeiro</a> sat across from her boss, Yossarian Leiner, in his minuscule office. Mountains of paperwork were stacked high, obscuring pictures of friends and family. An out-of-season menorah was present on the left-hand corner of the desk. She was cross-armed, her back straight and her eyes narrowed. He was sloughed over and looked a bit worse for wear; likely due to the heat brought on by the malfunctioning air conditioning unit his office was unfortunately laden with.</p> <p>"Diana. I—"</p> <p>She smirked.</p> <p>"You can't prove what I did worked."</p> <p>Yossarian sighed.</p> <p>"You're right, I can't. But I <em>can</em> prove that you're a thaumaturge, and a damn good one at that. Therefore, it would be pretty safe to assume that you succeeded in your intended goal."</p> <p>"I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Director."</p> <p>She snickered, to which he rolled his eyes.</p> <p>"Wipe that smug smirk off your face, Diana. Do you know the headache you've caused me?"</p> <p>"I don't know why people are so upset about maybe being sent to Hell after they die. It's not like Heaven is much better."</p> <p>"We don't know for sure if <a href="/scp-7179">SCP-7179</a> is Heaven for everyone. You know this, and yet every time—"</p> <p>"But you have to admit, it's no better than Hell."</p> <p>Diana raised her finger triumphantly. Again, his eyes rolled.</p> <p>"I'm not going to have this debate with you. You're going to be disciplined for casting spells to send your coworkers to Hell. That much I know. I just don't know what to do with you yet."</p> <p>There was a brief silence. Yossarian brought his hands to his temples and rubbed his fingers along them. After a moment of contemplation, he reached to his right to produce a sheet of paper stamped with the Ethics Committee's seal.</p> <p>"Okay. Deep breaths. Let's begin here. Requisite questions the Ethics Committee wants me to ask you."</p> <p>"Sure."</p> <p>"Why did you take extreme action against your fellow employees?"</p> <p>Diana waved her hand dismissively.</p> <p>"Because they're all idiots who can't do their jobs. Next question."</p> <p>"Diana, that's not going to earn you any favors with them. You do your job well, and I would hate to see you terminated because you threatened to send twenty people to Hell."</p> <p>"I didn't threaten anyone."</p> <p>"So you're saying you're innocent? Because there are multiple reports of y—"</p> <p>"No. I'm saying I did precisely what I intended on doing."</p> <p>"… and you did this because they 'couldn't do their jobs'?"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>Yossarian pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and powered onwards.</p> <p>"If you're going to stay under my employment I'm going to recommend the Ethics Committee assigns you to anger management therapy."</p> <p>"Oh, I wasn't angry, Director. Just disappointed."</p> <p>"You're not helping your case here."</p> <p>She shrugged. He sighed, glancing over the paper he held before continuing.</p> <p>"Did you cast the spells with the intent to do harm?"</p> <p>"Of course not. I didn't hurt anyone with my spells. I just made sure they would go to Hell when they eventually die."</p> <p>Yossarian blinked.</p> <p>"That's… technically true."</p> <p>"The best kind of true." She laughed, leaning back a bit in her chair.</p> <p>"Did you carry out these actions because of a connection or pact with a Tartarean entity?"</p> <p>"Nope. Out of my own volition."</p> <p>Yossarian laid down the piece of paper in front of him and looked straight ahead at Diana.</p> <p>"Okay. This last one I didn't expect, but I have to ask anyway."</p> <p>"What is it?"</p> <p>"Did you curse me?"</p> <p>"Pardon?"</p> <p>"Did you curse me? To go to Hell."</p> <p>"What does it matter to you? Jews don't believe in Hell."</p> <p>"You and I both know Hell is <a href="/scp-4661">real.</a>"</p> <p>"And yet you don't believe in it. Maybe you won't end up in there after you die!"</p> <p>There was a brief silence, accentuated by the office's air conditioning unit starting up. Cool air began to slowly fill the room.</p> <p>"So did you curse me or not?"</p> <p>"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Director."</p> <p>"Cut the act, Ribeiro. Your behavior may have flown while al-Taqi was director, but I won't have any of your shit."</p> <p>Yossarian glared over at her, his hands forming into fists atop the desk. Diana unfolded her arms and held them up in surrender.</p> <p>"Okay, okay. Geez. No, I didn't curse you. You're one of the few people here who do their job and do it well."</p> <p>"And how do I know you're not only saying that to worm your way out of getting in trouble?"</p> <p>"I guess we'll just have to wait and find out, won't we?"</p> <p>"Get out of my office."</p> <p>Diana stood and walked out the door, gently shutting it behind her and leaving Yossarian alone to contemplate. He opened the drawer of his desk, pausing a moment before reaching in and grabbing a copy of the Book of Psalms. He turned to Psalm 23 and began reading.</p> <p><em>"Adonai is my Shepherd; I lack nothing. You give me my ease in fertile pastures. You lead me to drink in tranquil waters. You renew my soul. You guide me on straight paths as befits Your reputation. Even though I walk through the valley of the deepest darkness, I fear no evil, for You are always with me. Your comforting rod provides me solace. You prepare a table for me to eat at ease in front of my enemies; my head oozes with oil; my cup is overflowing. Surely merciful goodness will be mine throughout my life, and I will always remain in Adonai’s precinct."</em></p> <p>He stopped. The air conditioning unit stopped as well.</p> <p>"I need a fucking drink."<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="collection"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More From This Author</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <table style="1px solid black; width: 100%;"> <tr> <th class="namerow" colspan="2"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p>Uncle Nicolini's Works</p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">SCPs</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-es-357">SCP-ES-357</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-2910-jp">SCP-2910-JP</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-654">SCP-654</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5726">SCP-5726</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/abraka-davids-proposal">Abraka David's Proposal</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-pl-274">SCP-PL-274</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7112">SCP-7112</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4934">SCP-4934</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-admonition-j">SCP-ADMONITION-J</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8726">SCP-8726</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-057-int">SCP-057-INT</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5047">SCP-5047</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6911">SCP-6911</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1046">SCP-1046</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6726">MDI-6726</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Tales/GoI Formats</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/borne-on-the-fm-waves-of-the-heart">Borne on the FM Waves of the Heart</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/chicago-factory">Carroll #280/R-01221</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-chuck">Critter Profile: Chuck.</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/corncrake-of-destiny">The Corncrake Of Destiny</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/late-registration">(Too) Late Registration</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/error-404-database-not-found">July 26th ETTRA Emergency Meeting</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/surprise-happy-birthday-12">Surprise! Happy Birthday! Just as the clock strikes midnight...</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/robin">Robin</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/dark-sushi-file-no-1221">Dark Sushi File No. 1221 "Waniika Nigiri"</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/september-eleven-prequel">Frenzied Overture</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/hatuey">Hatuey, the First American Rebel</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/halloween-anthology-boring-2021">Halloween Anthology In Boring 2021</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/joicl8kdr">魂-S-2049 "Anima Back-Ups"</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/two-minutes-to-midnight">Two Minutes To Midnight</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/ace-of-hearts">Ace Of Hearts</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/uncle-nicolini-author-page">uncle nicolini author page</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/sciptember-2022-art">Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/ode-to-the-unknown-author">Ode To The Unknown Author</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/tactical-theology-disciplinary-meeting-diana-ribiero">Tactical Theology Disciplinary Meeting for Diana Ribiero</a>" by Uncle Nicolini, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tactical-theology-disciplinary-meeting-diana-ribiero">https://scpwiki.com/tactical-theology-disciplinary-meeting-diana-ribiero</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:ad-abyssum-penumbra">:scp-wiki:theme:ad-abyssum-penumbra</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[[SCP-7777\|Diana Ribeiro]]] sat across from her boss, Yossarian Leiner, in his minuscule office. Mountains of paperwork were stacked high, obscuring pictures of friends and family. An out-of-season menorah was present on the left-hand corner of the desk. She was cross-armed, her back straight and her eyes narrowed. He was sloughed over and looked a bit worse for wear; likely due to the heat brought on by the malfunctioning air conditioning unit his office was unfortunately laden with. "Diana. I--" She smirked. "You can't prove what I did worked." Yossarian sighed. "You're right, I can't. But I //can// prove that you're a thaumaturge, and a damn good one at that. Therefore, it would be pretty safe to assume that you succeeded in your intended goal." "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Director." She snickered, to which he rolled his eyes. "Wipe that smug smirk off your face, Diana. Do you know the headache you've caused me?" "I don't know why people are so upset about maybe being sent to Hell after they die. It's not like Heaven is much better." "We don't know for sure if [[[SCP-7179]]] is Heaven for everyone. You know this, and yet every time--" "But you have to admit, it's no better than Hell." Diana raised her finger triumphantly. Again, his eyes rolled. "I'm not going to have this debate with you. You're going to be disciplined for casting spells to send your coworkers to Hell. That much I know. I just don't know what to do with you yet." There was a brief silence. Yossarian brought his hands to his temples and rubbed his fingers along them. After a moment of contemplation, he reached to his right to produce a sheet of paper stamped with the Ethics Committee's seal. "Okay. Deep breaths. Let's begin here. Requisite questions the Ethics Committee wants me to ask you." "Sure." "Why did you take extreme action against your fellow employees?" Diana waved her hand dismissively. "Because they're all idiots who can't do their jobs. Next question." "Diana, that's not going to earn you any favors with them. You do your job well, and I would hate to see you terminated because you threatened to send twenty people to Hell." "I didn't threaten anyone." "So you're saying you're innocent? Because there are multiple reports of y--" "No. I'm saying I did precisely what I intended on doing." "... and you did this because they 'couldn't do their jobs'?" "Yes." Yossarian pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and powered onwards. "If you're going to stay under my employment I'm going to recommend the Ethics Committee assigns you to anger management therapy." "Oh, I wasn't angry, Director. Just disappointed." "You're not helping your case here." She shrugged. He sighed, glancing over the paper he held before continuing. "Did you cast the spells with the intent to do harm?" "Of course not. I didn't hurt anyone with my spells. I just made sure they would go to Hell when they eventually die." Yossarian blinked. "That's... technically true." "The best kind of true." She laughed, leaning back a bit in her chair. "Did you carry out these actions because of a connection or pact with a Tartarean entity?" "Nope. Out of my own volition." Yossarian laid down the piece of paper in front of him and looked straight ahead at Diana. "Okay. This last one I didn't expect, but I have to ask anyway." "What is it?" "Did you curse me?" "Pardon?" "Did you curse me? To go to Hell." "What does it matter to you? Jews don't believe in Hell." "You and I both know Hell is [[[scp-4661\|real.]]]" "And yet you don't believe in it. Maybe you won't end up in there after you die!" There was a brief silence, accentuated by the office's air conditioning unit starting up. Cool air began to slowly fill the room. "So did you curse me or not?" "I'm afraid I can't tell you, Director." "Cut the act, Ribeiro. Your behavior may have flown while al-Taqi was director, but I won't have any of your shit." Yossarian glared over at her, his hands forming into fists atop the desk. Diana unfolded her arms and held them up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Geez. No, I didn't curse you. You're one of the few people here who do their job and do it well." "And how do I know you're not only saying that to worm your way out of getting in trouble?" "I guess we'll just have to wait and find out, won't we?" "Get out of my office." Diana stood and walked out the door, gently shutting it behind her and leaving Yossarian alone to contemplate. He opened the drawer of his desk, pausing a moment before reaching in and grabbing a copy of the Book of Psalms. He turned to Psalm 23 and began reading. //"Adonai is my Shepherd; I lack nothing. You give me my ease in fertile pastures. You lead me to drink in tranquil waters. You renew my soul. You guide me on straight paths as befits Your reputation. Even though I walk through the valley of the deepest darkness, I fear no evil, for You are always with me. Your comforting rod provides me solace. You prepare a table for me to eat at ease in front of my enemies; my head oozes with oil; my cup is overflowing. Surely merciful goodness will be mine throughout my life, and I will always remain in Adonai’s precinct."// He stopped. The air conditioning unit stopped as well. "I need a fucking drink." @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wikimodule">:scp-wiki:component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Uncle Nicolini]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-17T15:14:00	[ "_genreless", "_licensebox", "tactical-theology", "tale", "yossarian-leiner" ]	Tactical Theology Disciplinary Meeting for Diana Ribiero - SCP Foundation	32	[ "scp-7777", "scp-7179", "scp-4661", "scp-es-357", "scp-2910-jp", "scp-654", "scp-5726", "abraka-davids-proposal", "scp-pl-274", "scp-7112", "scp-4934", "scp-admonition-j", "scp-8726", "scp-057-int", "scp-5047", "scp-6911", "scp-1046", "scp-6726", "borne-on-the-fm-waves-of-the-heart", "chicago-factory", "critter-profile-chuck", "corncrake-of-destiny", "late-registration", "error-404-database-not-found", "surprise-happy-birthday-12", "robin", "dark-sushi-file-no-1221", "september-eleven-prequel", "hatuey", "halloween-anthology-boring-2021", "joicl8kdr", "two-minutes-to-midnight", "ace-of-hearts", "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "sciptember-2022-art", "ode-to-the-unknown-author", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unconditional-love-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition" ]	[]	1450795871	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tactical-theology-disciplinary-meeting-diana-ribiero
take-it-all-off	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Acreepypasta/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aanon/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aparawatch-pumpkin/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="creditRate"> <li class="rateBox folded"> <div class="rate-box-with-credit-button"> <div class="creditButton foldable-list-container"> <p><a href="javascript:;"></a></p> </div> </div> <div id="u-credit-view"> <div class="fader foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">close</a></div> <div class="modalcontainer"> <div class="modalbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2><span>Info</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="close-credits foldable-list-container"><a href="javascript:;">X</a></div> <div class="credit first"> <p><strong>Take It All Off</strong><br/> <strong>Written by:</strong> IndustryStandard</p> <p>Contains stuff getting chopped off of people and implied deadnaming.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> <div class="parapost"> <p><strong><span style="color: #5bcefa">bloneohs</span></strong> 06/11/23 (Sun) 17:36:55 #56389128</p> <hr/> <p>Habitual lurker here, so apologies if I format this weird, but I had a strange encounter that I need to get out there before I forget all the details.</p> <p>To start off, every day for years I've taken the same route to work: a 30 minute bus trip, followed by a short walk through town, which has let me watch as tons of places opened and closed. It sucks, really, but businesses don't last around here. When you see a new place, unless it's a McDonalds or something, you can bet they'll be putting up that "For Sale" sign soon.</p> <p>With that in mind, on a completely regular Friday, I was pleasantly surprised to notice a barber pole poking out above the sidewalk out in front of me. See, normally it takes folks a few days to scout out the location, do a little window shopping for their window shop, and then you get a few days to watch as they settle in, but no! Right in front of me stood a picturesque barber shop. I don't know how long I stood there, baffled, aimlessly pulling my eyes from chair, to mirror, to the clippings on the wall, but at some point my wandering eyes found a sign hanging at the door, saying:</p> <p>"Open"</p> <p>I was through the door before I could think; hit by a wave of cool air and the welcoming ring of bell, then quiet. After the silence settled, a handle turned on the lone door across the room, then swung open to reveal a man who I could only assume to be the proprietor of the magnificent locale.</p> <p>From a distance I could tell he was dressed impeccably -a bit too formal for a barber perhaps, but the dress shirt and tie managed to complement his form perfectly. He was tall, not intimidatingly so, but enough to mean I had to turn up my head as he began to approach. As he did, I was taken aback by his face. It was Perfect. That's all. No other way to describe it.</p> <p>He welcomed me and apologized for not being in the parlor when I arrived, but I didn't really mind; I was charmed the moment I heard his voice. I've got no idea what I said in response, but I can recall his side of the conversation exactly.</p> <p>"So what brings you here?" I probably talked about seeing the pole outside. I'd guess I also noted about needing a shave because next he said:</p> <p>"Well you can count yourself lucky, because that's exactly my business." Then he laughed. I probably did too.</p> <p>"How much are you looking to take off?" Given the opportunity, I know what I'd want. My deal with hair is simple: On top of the head? Love it. Anywhere else? Hate the stuff.</p> <p>I remember him chuckling at least, then saying, "Well that I can do. Why don't you take a seat?" I did.</p> <p>"What do you shave with at home?" Nothing special. I'd have said that.</p> <p>He laughed, "Well all I'll need is this little friend right here." He took a straight razor out of his pocket. "No need to look so worried, my friend. When you've got the experience I have, this is all you need."</p> <p>I don't know if that would have calmed me down, but I sat there as he brought it up to my face and started getting to work gently pressing the razor down my cheek. I might have tried to move, because I noticed that was holding me in place with his other hand. Not aggressively, but firm. I was stuck watching it all through the mirror.</p> <p>I sat there as he did the first pass of my lower face. I could see as the brambles fell, revealing the smooth skin underneath. In a blink it was all gone and I was ready to get up and pay, but he was still holding me in place.</p> <p>I didn't resist as he started on the second pass. At first I couldn't tell any difference, but he was managing to fight off the shadow that I'd gotten used to sticking around when I worked on myself. The precision was enthralling and I found myself completely transfixed on her razor; watching the tiny particles of hair as they jumped from my face at the slightest push.</p> <p>Soon he started on another pass, driving the razor slowly along my cheek while it started to sear. I felt the urge to scream welling up inside me but my body refused to react. I think I heard him chuckle in the silence, but I couldn't look to check. All I could do was stare as the razor traveled so gently, so daintily, across my burning skin.</p> <p>He finished the pass and lowered the blade, giving me a chance to glance at her face. It was strange, she looked contemplative as she stared back at me, but where I expected an inquisitive air, scanning for any spots he'd missed, it felt more like he was sizing me up; choosing how to finish a fine meal.</p> <p>He slowly raised the razor to my face once more, flipping it in his hand as he did so, and pressed the blade hard against my cheek. I felt the pain bubbling up, from a sting, to that same sear before, then further. My vision was darkening as I sat there, unmoving. I could feel every pore in my face responding to the icy touch of the blade's iron; Every nerve alight as I slowly faded from consciousness.</p> <p>I was out.</p> <p>When I woke up I was screaming. When I calmed myself down and took a look at my surroundings I noticed that I was still in the same room. Not exactly the same room, though. It was all the same things, in all the same places, but dilapidated. The windows were boarded up, the mirror was covered in a layer of dust, all things showed age in one way or another.</p> <p>I could have explored further, but I decided that I'd had enough. I forced open the door, walked into the midnight-turned main street, and left.</p> <p>You might be wondering why I didn't make this post Friday. My answer? I chalked it up to a weird dream, hallucination, maybe I ate something weird, had a shave, then fabricated a bunch of memories, I don't know. I only started entertaining the thought when I realized something quite strange:</p> <p>1) I was shaved clean that night.</p> <p>2) The hair hasn't grown back.</p> <p>Whatever's going on, I couldn't be any happier.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><strong><span style="color: #808080">Severed87</span></strong> 06/11/23 (Sat) 11:32:56 #84632766</p> <hr/> <p>Is the barber a guy or a gal?</p> <p>You flip flopped a couple times and I'm confused.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><strong><span style="color: #5bcefa">bloneohs</span></strong> 06/11/23 (Sun) 17:36:55 #56389128</p> <hr/> <p>Oh gosh, I didn't even notice! I wrote the whole thing down and posted before taking a look over it so shame on me I guess.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><strong><span style="color: #f5a9b8">SmolderedAsh</span></strong> 06/17/23 (Sat) 09:11:29 #78529341</p> <hr/> <p>I don't think it was your goal OP, but posting this helped me out a ton.</p> <p>With that preface, I'll tell you how.</p> <p>I live in an apartment overlooking a plaza: Tons of stores arranged around a center bit that people shop around in. Basic everyday stuff, yeah, but those two things together mean I can people watch. Plus it's a busy place, so there's <em>lots</em> of people to watch.</p> <p>So I was having my lunch, doin my thing, watching people who make more money than I do buy dresses that I could never afford -not that they'd even fit with my proportions- and occasionally taking bites of a ham sandwich. Sometimes it's just like that, yeah, but I like to consider myself an observant gal, so when something <em>is</em> happening, I notice it, no matter what.</p> <p>That's why I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I missed a glaring weirdness as it sat in front of me throughout my whole meal. It wasn't a person making a scene or running away with some healing crystals, no, it was one of the stores, just sitting there.</p> <p>To be fair to myself, the store itself wasn't weird. It was just that how people were treating it, or maybe not treating it, was. It had no traffic, in or out, none at all. Like, what I mean is, it's a busy place all day, the plaza, and even the crazy weird shit gets some curious folk popping in. <em>Absolutely no-one</em>? Nah, no go. Something was up.</p> <p>So I focused around the building for a minute and noticed something super crazy. It's not just that nobody was going in, nobody even looked at the place! I was a bit taken aback, I'll say, right bamboozled, but that isn't even the craziest part. Once again I like to call myself observant, so this is very <em>very</em> embarrassing, but I hadn't even noticed the most important thing.</p> <p>A Barber Pole.</p> <p>I'd read your post just the other day, so maybe it was just a recency thing, but I felt the puzzle pieces connect <em>immediately</em>. The weird ghost barber, manifesting for me? I've been <em>desperate</em> to have my own paranormal experience, so I was shitting myself with excitement.</p> <p>I got up -slowly, we love back pain <3- and headed down the stairs. The walk across the plaza was a small war through a crowd of roaming shoppers, but I eventually got to that fabled storefront. As expected: no foot-traffic, but undoubtedly,</p> <p>"Open"</p> <p>I was in, I'd bet, even faster than OP, and I was met with that same wonderful ringing tone.</p> <p>The Proprietor arrived soon after. Not to say I doubted OP, but when they said perfect they didn't get across how <em>perfect</em> she actually was. I'm not even gonna try. Manifest the specter yourselves nerds. (Or whatever the fuck she is idfk)</p> <p>Just like with OP, she apologized for leaving the parlor unattended, then the conversation went a little something like this (remembered what she said clearly as well, who would have guessed):</p> <p>"So what brings you here?" I must have talked about the post because she said,</p> <p>"Notoriety? That'll be good for business. Are you looking for a haircut yourself?" I wasn't, I don't think, but professionals know best, eh? She laughed at something I said. I laughed at her laughing, then she looked me up and down.</p> <p>"I'm sure we can figure something out." She motioned for me to sit down, and I did, maybe not as slowly as I would have liked because she said,</p> <p>"Are you alright hon?" My back probably flared up. Y'know, people say I'm "blessed", but I'm constantly inclined to disagree.</p> <p>"Let's see what we can do then." She took out her straight razor and showed it to me. I must have looked puzzled, because she said,</p> <p>"No need to worry, honey, I can do anything with this little fella." She tossed it up and I watched it as it flipped, reflecting the parlor lights into my eyes. When she caught it I could feel her other hand holding me in place.</p> <p>"Just hold still."</p> <p>Through the mirror I could see as, rather than raising the razor, she instead slowly lowered it against my chest, pushing it flat just below my collarbone, before stopping. Just holding it there.</p> <p>I felt, in that pause, a strange sensation. Nothing should be happening, nothing could be happening, but against all reason the blade was getting hotter. I could see the metal starting to change from the inside out, emanating an pulsing orange glow.</p> <p>It was then when I felt her starting to push, driving his blade down into my breast.</p> <p>I could see it disappear into my flesh, leaving the uprooted flesh to curl up and shrivel like wood scrapings before fraying into desiccated strands.</p> <p>I could feel the heat suffocating me, my own smoldering body filling my nose, but I sat there. Held there. Watching as she shaved away my right breast.</p> <p>Some time later she paused to admire her work. I took a breath. Then she moved to the other side.</p> <p>Scrape after scrape after scrape after scrape, I sat, and watched, and smelt, and burned. When she finished, when he was absolutely, certainly, done, she looked down at me and smiled a satisfied grin.</p> <p>"So how does it look?" In the shock, finally set free from whatever hold she had on my body, I obliged, standing and walking up to the mirror.</p> <p>"I might have taken a bit too much off the top, but I'm sure it'll grow back." She laughed. I had barely been paying attention to how it all looked. I gasped.</p> <p>I was flat as a board.</p> <p>There was no scarring, not even signs of blood. They just sat there as though they'd always been that way; Small, light, and unobtrusive.</p> <p>Tears overtook my vision and I turned to look at the proprietor, to thank her for what he'd done to me, but she was gone.</p> <p>The reality that prevailed as I cleared my bleary eyes was just the one you might expect: A dingy old abandoned barber shop.</p> <p>I knew my encounter was over.</p> <p>I went and bought myself a new dress. (Still figuring out my wardrobe situation :/ )</p> <p>But anyway, Thank you OP.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><strong><span style="color: #5bcefa">bloneohs</span></strong> 06/11/23 (Sun) 17:36:55 #56389128</p> <hr/> <p>It feels weird to take credit for helping when all I did was make a weird vent post on a spooky ghost forum.</p> <p>Good for you though. Happy to hear it helped someone out.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><strong><span style="color: #ffffff">deleted user</span></strong> 07/01/23 (Sat) 01:00:26 #12985732</p> <hr/> <p>I found mine in a mall.</p> <p>It's a rundown place, basically empty, but good to get away from problems for a bit.</p> <p>It was weird, normally everything's closed, but right there on the door was a sign, saying</p> <p>"Open"</p> <p>Curious, I stepped in.</p> <p>Unlike you all she was waiting for me, sitting on a stool with her straight razor out.</p> <p>The bell still rang in the air as he spoke.</p> <p>"So what brings you here?"</p> <p>I tried to respond, but I choked on the words. Even still, she nodded and frowned.</p> <p>"You poor child."</p> <p>He looked away for a moment, to think, I assume.</p> <p>"It's been such a long time…"</p> <p>She turned back to me with a pained look.</p> <p>"But I think it might be just what you need. Take a seat, sweetheart."</p> <p>He stood there for a moment after I did. Staring at nothing. Waiting for something, or maybe nothing too.</p> <p>When she did approach, I saw that she'd left the razor on the stool.</p> <p>"Look at me."</p> <p>She spoke quietly. I could see her through the mirror, over my shoulder.</p> <p>"Look at me, sweetheart."</p> <p>The mirror was a crutch.</p> <p>I turned my head, and in tandem turned into a trance, locking eyes with him, stepping through to her, wandering in.</p> <p>His eyes were a forest of languishing trees, slick in coatings of lacquer giving weight to the breeze.</p> <p>Breathed in by her subjects, the beasts trapped within, with their hair suits oft gambled and lost as they spin.</p> <p>His hand was the spindle, her leg was the wheel, her forest was dancing, his forest was real.</p> <p>He coaxed me to join in the clamoring throes, and the singsong turned bellows as I blistered my toes.</p> <p>She dared me upon then the bitterest of ploys, as he said then so simply "Sing with us." I soon joined.</p> <p>Her voice was the twisting of brambles through stone, all I managed to muster was a bluster and moan.</p> <p>Understanding my blunder, I took wheel on hand mine, and unwound my fool's covering to the spindle in twine.</p> <p>I turned my head back to the mirror.</p> <p>He was gone, and as the parlor, I was emptied.</p> <p>I returned home, where I'd fled hours before, and saw my mother waiting for me.</p> <p>She saw me back.</p> <p>She called to my false name, but it did not answer her.</p> <p>She spoke to me concerned, but would not meet my eyes.</p> <p>She paused, gathered strength, then heaved out my true-name, which dripped from her mouth as lacquer into pools at her feet.</p> <p>In its surface I saw the forest, and her forest was real.</p> <p>She betrayed her sensibilities and fell throughward, up into the deep dark and languishing wood.</p> <p>I saw her start to dance, her coat weft with hair left lining the courtyard, forcing other party-goers to watch their step.</p> <p>As of my writing this, she dances on still.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><strong><span style="color: #77007d">🗿TryLoreBite</span></strong> 07/01/23 (Sun) 02:17:01 #74995325</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="color: red">[THREAD LOCKED.]</span></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/take-it-all-off">Take It All Off</a>" by IndustryStandard, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/take-it-all-off">https://scpwiki.com/take-it-all-off</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:anon">:scp-wiki:theme:anon</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:parawatch-pumpkin">:scp-wiki:theme:parawatch-pumpkin</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --bg: hsl(14, 6%, 12%); --bg-dark: hsl(17, 5%, 10%); --fg-dark: hsl(197, 85%, 80%); --fg-dark-2: hsl(197, 94%, 67%); --fg-accent-light: hsl(197, 94%, 67%); --fg-accent: hsl(197, 94%, 62%); --fg-accent-dark: hsl(197, 94%, 55%); --fg-accent-dark-2: hsl(197, 94%, 50%); } a.newpage { color: hsl(156, 18%, 76%); } div.parapost { border-color: var(--bg-light); } ::selection { background: hsl(22, 11%, 27%); } #top-bar ul li.sfhover a:hover, #top-bar ul li:hover a:hover { background: hsl(180, 5%, 31%); } div#header h1{ background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/mkwhiteout-cia-pride/parawatchPRIDE.png) no-repeat; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Take It All Off Written by: IndustryStandard Contains stuff getting chopped off of people and implied deadnaming. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##5BCEFA\|bloneohs## 06/11/23 (Sun) 17:36:55 #56389128 ---- Habitual lurker here, so apologies if I format this weird, but I had a strange encounter that I need to get out there before I forget all the details. To start off, every day for years I've taken the same route to work: a 30 minute bus trip, followed by a short walk through town, which has let me watch as tons of places opened and closed. It sucks, really, but businesses don't last around here. When you see a new place, unless it's a McDonalds or something, you can bet they'll be putting up that "For Sale" sign soon. With that in mind, on a completely regular Friday, I was pleasantly surprised to notice a barber pole poking out above the sidewalk out in front of me. See, normally it takes folks a few days to scout out the location, do a little window shopping for their window shop, and then you get a few days to watch as they settle in, but no! Right in front of me stood a picturesque barber shop. I don't know how long I stood there, baffled, aimlessly pulling my eyes from chair, to mirror, to the clippings on the wall, but at some point my wandering eyes found a sign hanging at the door, saying: "Open" I was through the door before I could think; hit by a wave of cool air and the welcoming ring of bell, then quiet. After the silence settled, a handle turned on the lone door across the room, then swung open to reveal a man who I could only assume to be the proprietor of the magnificent locale. From a distance I could tell he was dressed impeccably -a bit too formal for a barber perhaps, but the dress shirt and tie managed to complement his form perfectly. He was tall, not intimidatingly so, but enough to mean I had to turn up my head as he began to approach. As he did, I was taken aback by his face. It was Perfect. That's all. No other way to describe it. He welcomed me and apologized for not being in the parlor when I arrived, but I didn't really mind; I was charmed the moment I heard his voice. I've got no idea what I said in response, but I can recall his side of the conversation exactly. "So what brings you here?" I probably talked about seeing the pole outside. I'd guess I also noted about needing a shave because next he said: "Well you can count yourself lucky, because that's exactly my business." Then he laughed. I probably did too. "How much are you looking to take off?" Given the opportunity, I know what I'd want. My deal with hair is simple: On top of the head? Love it. Anywhere else? Hate the stuff. I remember him chuckling at least, then saying, "Well that I can do. Why don't you take a seat?" I did. "What do you shave with at home?" Nothing special. I'd have said that. He laughed, "Well all I'll need is this little friend right here." He took a straight razor out of his pocket. "No need to look so worried, my friend. When you've got the experience I have, this is all you need." I don't know if that would have calmed me down, but I sat there as he brought it up to my face and started getting to work gently pressing the razor down my cheek. I might have tried to move, because I noticed that was holding me in place with his other hand. Not aggressively, but firm. I was stuck watching it all through the mirror. I sat there as he did the first pass of my lower face. I could see as the brambles fell, revealing the smooth skin underneath. In a blink it was all gone and I was ready to get up and pay, but he was still holding me in place. I didn't resist as he started on the second pass. At first I couldn't tell any difference, but he was managing to fight off the shadow that I'd gotten used to sticking around when I worked on myself. The precision was enthralling and I found myself completely transfixed on her razor; watching the tiny particles of hair as they jumped from my face at the slightest push. Soon he started on another pass, driving the razor slowly along my cheek while it started to sear. I felt the urge to scream welling up inside me but my body refused to react. I think I heard him chuckle in the silence, but I couldn't look to check. All I could do was stare as the razor traveled so gently, so daintily, across my burning skin. He finished the pass and lowered the blade, giving me a chance to glance at her face. It was strange, she looked contemplative as she stared back at me, but where I expected an inquisitive air, scanning for any spots he'd missed, it felt more like he was sizing me up; choosing how to finish a fine meal. He slowly raised the razor to my face once more, flipping it in his hand as he did so, and pressed the blade hard against my cheek. I felt the pain bubbling up, from a sting, to that same sear before, then further. My vision was darkening as I sat there, unmoving. I could feel every pore in my face responding to the icy touch of the blade's iron; Every nerve alight as I slowly faded from consciousness. I was out. When I woke up I was screaming. When I calmed myself down and took a look at my surroundings I noticed that I was still in the same room. Not exactly the same room, though. It was all the same things, in all the same places, but dilapidated. The windows were boarded up, the mirror was covered in a layer of dust, all things showed age in one way or another. I could have explored further, but I decided that I'd had enough. I forced open the door, walked into the midnight-turned main street, and left. You might be wondering why I didn't make this post Friday. My answer? I chalked it up to a weird dream, hallucination, maybe I ate something weird, had a shave, then fabricated a bunch of memories, I don't know. I only started entertaining the thought when I realized something quite strange: 1) I was shaved clean that night. 2) The hair hasn't grown back. Whatever's going on, I couldn't be any happier. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##808080\|Severed87## 06/11/23 (Sat) 11:32:56 #84632766 ---- Is the barber a guy or a gal? You flip flopped a couple times and I'm confused. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##5BCEFA\|bloneohs## 06/11/23 (Sun) 17:36:55 #56389128 ---- Oh gosh, I didn't even notice! I wrote the whole thing down and posted before taking a look over it so shame on me I guess. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##F5A9B8\|SmolderedAsh## 06/17/23 (Sat) 09:11:29 #78529341 ---- I don't think it was your goal OP, but posting this helped me out a ton. With that preface, I'll tell you how. I live in an apartment overlooking a plaza: Tons of stores arranged around a center bit that people shop around in. Basic everyday stuff, yeah, but those two things together mean I can people watch. Plus it's a busy place, so there's //lots// of people to watch. So I was having my lunch, doin my thing, watching people who make more money than I do buy dresses that I could never afford -not that they'd even fit with my proportions- and occasionally taking bites of a ham sandwich. Sometimes it's just like that, yeah, but I like to consider myself an observant gal, so when something //is// happening, I notice it, no matter what. That's why I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I missed a glaring weirdness as it sat in front of me throughout my whole meal. It wasn't a person making a scene or running away with some healing crystals, no, it was one of the stores, just sitting there. To be fair to myself, the store itself wasn't weird. It was just that how people were treating it, or maybe not treating it, was. It had no traffic, in or out, none at all. Like, what I mean is, it's a busy place all day, the plaza, and even the crazy weird shit gets some curious folk popping in. //Absolutely no-one//? Nah, no go. Something was up. So I focused around the building for a minute and noticed something super crazy. It's not just that nobody was going in, nobody even looked at the place! I was a bit taken aback, I'll say, right bamboozled, but that isn't even the craziest part. Once again I like to call myself observant, so this is very //very// embarrassing, but I hadn't even noticed the most important thing. A Barber Pole. I'd read your post just the other day, so maybe it was just a recency thing, but I felt the puzzle pieces connect //immediately//. The weird ghost barber, manifesting for me? I've been //desperate// to have my own paranormal experience, so I was shitting myself with excitement. I got up -slowly, we love back pain <3- and headed down the stairs. The walk across the plaza was a small war through a crowd of roaming shoppers, but I eventually got to that fabled storefront. As expected: no foot-traffic, but undoubtedly, "Open" I was in, I'd bet, even faster than OP, and I was met with that same wonderful ringing tone. The Proprietor arrived soon after. Not to say I doubted OP, but when they said perfect they didn't get across how //perfect// she actually was. I'm not even gonna try. Manifest the specter yourselves nerds. (Or whatever the fuck she is idfk) Just like with OP, she apologized for leaving the parlor unattended, then the conversation went a little something like this (remembered what she said clearly as well, who would have guessed): "So what brings you here?" I must have talked about the post because she said, "Notoriety? That'll be good for business. Are you looking for a haircut yourself?" I wasn't, I don't think, but professionals know best, eh? She laughed at something I said. I laughed at her laughing, then she looked me up and down. "I'm sure we can figure something out." She motioned for me to sit down, and I did, maybe not as slowly as I would have liked because she said, "Are you alright hon?" My back probably flared up. Y'know, people say I'm "blessed", but I'm constantly inclined to disagree. "Let's see what we can do then." She took out her straight razor and showed it to me. I must have looked puzzled, because she said, "No need to worry, honey, I can do anything with this little fella." She tossed it up and I watched it as it flipped, reflecting the parlor lights into my eyes. When she caught it I could feel her other hand holding me in place. "Just hold still." Through the mirror I could see as, rather than raising the razor, she instead slowly lowered it against my chest, pushing it flat just below my collarbone, before stopping. Just holding it there. I felt, in that pause, a strange sensation. Nothing should be happening, nothing could be happening, but against all reason the blade was getting hotter. I could see the metal starting to change from the inside out, emanating an pulsing orange glow. It was then when I felt her starting to push, driving his blade down into my breast. I could see it disappear into my flesh, leaving the uprooted flesh to curl up and shrivel like wood scrapings before fraying into desiccated strands. I could feel the heat suffocating me, my own smoldering body filling my nose, but I sat there. Held there. Watching as she shaved away my right breast. Some time later she paused to admire her work. I took a breath. Then she moved to the other side. Scrape after scrape after scrape after scrape, I sat, and watched, and smelt, and burned. When she finished, when he was absolutely, certainly, done, she looked down at me and smiled a satisfied grin. "So how does it look?" In the shock, finally set free from whatever hold she had on my body, I obliged, standing and walking up to the mirror. "I might have taken a bit too much off the top, but I'm sure it'll grow back." She laughed. I had barely been paying attention to how it all looked. I gasped. I was flat as a board. There was no scarring, not even signs of blood. They just sat there as though they'd always been that way; Small, light, and unobtrusive. Tears overtook my vision and I turned to look at the proprietor, to thank her for what he'd done to me, but she was gone. The reality that prevailed as I cleared my bleary eyes was just the one you might expect: A dingy old abandoned barber shop. I knew my encounter was over. I went and bought myself a new dress. (Still figuring out my wardrobe situation :/ ) But anyway, Thank you OP. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##5BCEFA\|bloneohs## 06/11/23 (Sun) 17:36:55 #56389128 ---- It feels weird to take credit for helping when all I did was make a weird vent post on a spooky ghost forum. Good for you though. Happy to hear it helped someone out. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##FFFFFF\|deleted user## 07/01/23 (Sat) 01:00:26 #12985732 ---- I found mine in a mall. It's a rundown place, basically empty, but good to get away from problems for a bit. It was weird, normally everything's closed, but right there on the door was a sign, saying "Open" Curious, I stepped in. Unlike you all she was waiting for me, sitting on a stool with her straight razor out. The bell still rang in the air as he spoke. "So what brings you here?" I tried to respond, but I choked on the words. Even still, she nodded and frowned. "You poor child." He looked away for a moment, to think, I assume. "It's been such a long time..." She turned back to me with a pained look. "But I think it might be just what you need. Take a seat, sweetheart." He stood there for a moment after I did. Staring at nothing. Waiting for something, or maybe nothing too. When she did approach, I saw that she'd left the razor on the stool. "Look at me." She spoke quietly. I could see her through the mirror, over my shoulder. "Look at me, sweetheart." The mirror was a crutch. I turned my head, and in tandem turned into a trance, locking eyes with him, stepping through to her, wandering in. His eyes were a forest of languishing trees, slick in coatings of lacquer giving weight to the breeze. Breathed in by her subjects, the beasts trapped within, with their hair suits oft gambled and lost as they spin. His hand was the spindle, her leg was the wheel, her forest was dancing, his forest was real. He coaxed me to join in the clamoring throes, and the singsong turned bellows as I blistered my toes. She dared me upon then the bitterest of ploys, as he said then so simply "Sing with us." I soon joined. Her voice was the twisting of brambles through stone, all I managed to muster was a bluster and moan. Understanding my blunder, I took wheel on hand mine, and unwound my fool's covering to the spindle in twine. I turned my head back to the mirror. He was gone, and as the parlor, I was emptied. I returned home, where I'd fled hours before, and saw my mother waiting for me. She saw me back. She called to my false name, but it did not answer her. She spoke to me concerned, but would not meet my eyes. She paused, gathered strength, then heaved out my true-name, which dripped from her mouth as lacquer into pools at her feet. In its surface I saw the forest, and her forest was real. She betrayed her sensibilities and fell throughward, up into the deep dark and languishing wood. I saw her start to dance, her coat weft with hair left lining the courtyard, forcing other party-goers to watch their step. As of my writing this, she dances on still. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##77007d\|🗿TryLoreBite## 07/01/23 (Sun) 02:17:01 #74995325 ---- [[=]] ##red\|[THREAD LOCKED.]## [[/=]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-12T01:03:00	[ "_licensebox", "correspondence", "creepypasta", "mystery", "nameless", "parawatch", "surrealism", "tale" ]	Take It All Off - SCP Foundation	45	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "parawatch-hub", "creepy-pasta" ]	[]	1448974699	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/take-it-all-off
taking-the-heat-out	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">176</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> lightgrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> dimgrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> dimgrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.addendumbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.01</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.16</span><span class="hl-code">),</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.12</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.material-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.01</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> lightgrey </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.16</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.material-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">double</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.addendumbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">double</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.addendumtitle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#b01</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.maintitle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-string">x-large</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">#b01</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.addenda-header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code">flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code">space-between</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-string">large</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-info-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code">flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code">space-between</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.object-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-var">black</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-self:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex-end</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">large</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title-style</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#b01</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">large</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; 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If you notice anything tag-worthy that's not in here, though, please mention it in a comment.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Deep within the woodland of Washington, under a glittering sky, hell was stirring.</p> <p>Cinders begat embers, which begat smoulders, which intensified over and over until they became a blaze, infesting and devouring trees then jumping to the next for another bite. Clouds of smoke thicker than tar belched upwards, combining with licks of flame to create abstract art in the night sky. The air shimmered like silk.</p> <p>Had anyone been present to witness, they would have thought it an inhospitable nightmare for any living thing, somewhere nothing could survive. This rather depends on your definition of “living thing,” though.</p> <p>Because had this hypothetical observer looked closer, they might have noticed, among all the orange flame, a small, round patch flickering. Iridescent blue, white, yellow, a beacon in the dull, smoky sea. One that seemed to be wearing a bowl.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6850">The ball of fire</a> gleefully pounced on a patch of untouched foliage, incinerating it with the ferocity of a lion, before bouncing ludicrously high onto a collapsing tree trunk. Flipping its trusty BedHat, it rode its way down the incline like an Olympic skier, launching itself off just before it hit the ground and pinballing its way off several more trees, obliterating chunks in its scorching wake. It overshot one, catapulting it into the ground and sending the bowl skidding off into a relatively untouched clearing. A quick yelp at this indignity before it scurried off after it.</p> <p>Uncaring as its intense heat set off an unstoppable chain reaction within the formerly lush clearing, it hopped into the bowl, hunkering down contentedly. Its flame dulled to a cool blue, the forest burning around it.</p> <hr/> <p>"And then woke up, and <em>bam</em>! Trees all grey and crumbly, so me get bored and go <em>really fast</em> to city - did you know there is houses with floaty orbs in? With letters in Human, lots of colours - make burn really loud!" The flaming ball in the containment cell finally stopped bouncing off the walls with every exclamation and rolled to a halt in the centre of the room.</p> <p>With a hesitant smile on his face, Dr. Ilena Primaru nodded in a manner he hoped suggested he hadn’t completely lost track of what the little orb was talking about two minutes ago. “I see. That’s really interesting, SCP-6850, but I was only asking what you'd been watching on the TV recently?”</p> <p>“Oh.” The fire dimmed slightly. “Got carried away.”</p> <p>“That’s alright.” He contemplated the orb for a moment. “You really miss your old life, don’t you?”</p> <p>After a brief pause, SCP-6850 began trundling back and forth. “Me like going wherever, no humans to tell what to do, or shout at me, or imprison. No Dr. Wiggle and tray-truss Meta-Orb being mean. And still want BedHat!"</p> <p>"Yes, ah, we're doing our best on that front," he said quickly, mindful of setting off another tantrum.</p> <p>SCP-6850 sulked. "Could do better."</p> <p>Lena considered his next sentence carefully. "I think we might be able to do something nice for you."</p> <p>It perked up at that. "Like freeing?"</p> <p>"Maybe not that, just… something to alleviate the boredom."</p> <p>"Hmm…" A quick burst of red diffused through its fire. "Yep! Am want something nice."</p> <p>"Good! I'll, um, have to talk to Dr. Weigl about it first, though."</p> <hr/> <p>“No.”</p> <p>“I’m not asking for anything, Carson,” Lena insisted, sipping at his coffee as he leaned on the counter. The Site-322 break room was empty but for them and a small plastic Christmas tree in white on one of the tables, the only concession to the season. Some sites completely blew off Christmas, some celebrated like all of humanity depended on it to contain the Scarlet King, but Site-322 fell into the most common model of “it’s a good excuse for a party on expenses.”</p> <p>“You didn’t have to. I can feel the ‘asking-for-something’ in your voice.” Head Researcher Carson Weigl was a reasonable man, by-and-large. Occasionally, when SCP-6850 was involved, he forgot that. Arms folded as he stood by the door, his anticipatory glare burnt holes into Lena.</p> <p>“That being said-“</p> <p>“And there it is.”</p> <p>With a small groan, he pushed himself upright. “Look, uh, what you have to understand is that we need some give-and-take here,” he reasoned, to which Carson scoffed.</p> <p>“Oh? And what’s it given us here? If it’s really better to give than receive, I’d say we’re pretty damn blessed thanks to that thing.”</p> <p>“You’ve got to look at things from its perspective, though. It’s not sat in there logically reasoning how actually we’re being perfectly fair to it, it’s sulking because as far as it’s concerned, we’re just some Grinches ruining its fun for personal satisfaction.”</p> <p>Weigl hesitated, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. Fine! Just… what do you suggest?”</p> <p>His shoulders loosening slightly, Lena took another sip of coffee, buying him a few seconds to phrase things. "I want to give it a one-off treat. Nothing hugely expensive, um, just something to show… willing, to show we're paying attention to it, considering it. Given Admin are still dragging their heels over returning its BedHa - uh, Dash A, it'd be something to tide it over."</p> <p>As his colleague contemplated this, he drummed his fingers on the counter. "That doesn't sound so bad," he reasoned. "Is there a catch?"</p> <p><em>Now the tricky bit.</em> “I, uh, want to let it outside.”</p> <p>Somehow, Weigl managed to choke despite his mouth being empty. “You <em>what</em>?”</p> <p>"I don't mean set it free!" he clarified quickly. "I just mean, uh, for a few minutes, under controlled conditions."</p> <p>"Have you <em>tried</em> controlling conditions with that thing loose?" Lena wasn't actually aware that a human being could turn that shade of plum. Every day was a learning day at the Foundation. "Are you actively trying to send me to an early grave or is that just incidental?"</p> <p>He drained the dregs of his coffee, savouring the flavour for a moment, and sighed. “Carson, I do my best, but my priority’s not actually to make your life easier, it’s the wellbeing of those in my care. Keeping you from going grey is just, um, a happy side effect. Happier people and, uh, entities tend to create fewer problems.”</p> <p>“You really think I don’t know that?”</p> <p>“Sometimes people need reminding,” Lena shrugged. "Look, I understand your concern, and I fully expect us to take all necessary precautions. I have a few ideas to keep it distracted, too. I'll submit an official proposal to you tomorrow, and if you don't like it I won't press the issue."</p> <p>Weigl harrumphed. "It'll have to be a hell of a proposal for me to let that thing out."</p> <p>"Not biased against it at all, are we?"</p> <p>He gave him a sour look. "Why would I be?</p> <p>"I've no idea." Lena raised the empty mug to his mouth. "Dr. Wiggle," he murmured.</p> <p>"What was that?"</p> <p>"Nothing." He thought for a moment. "Did you manage to get Christmas off?"</p> <p>"I did. We're going up to my father's for the weekend. Been a hell of a year, especially for him."</p> <p>"That's good. You should spend Christmas doing what you love, with people you love. Not stuck somewhere you don't want to be, on your own."</p> <p>"Mm." There was quiet for a moment as Weigl digested this. Then another. Then finally: "Oh, <em>alright</em>," he groaned, a sour look on his face, "I'll consider it."</p> <p>Lena grinned, and went to put his mug in the dishwasher. "Thank you, Carson."</p> <p>"<em>Only</em> consider it, mind," he insisted. "God damn you, doctor, appealing to my better nature."</p> <p>Slamming the door shut, Lena gave a rueful shrug. "You work for the Foundation, just be thankful you still have one. I'll have the proposal on your desk by, um, tomorrow morning. If all goes as I expect, we won't have any problems." He straightened his lapels and made briskly for the exit.</p> <p>“We better not. So help me, if it all goes pear-shaped and I end up having to grovel at the wheels of a gumball machine again, I will hold you personally responsible!” Weigl called after him.</p> <p>"Noted!"</p> <hr/> <p>SCP-6850 was bored. Bored bored bored bored bored.</p> <p>It was the humans' fault. Humans were boring. Questions, questions, questions, while it smouldered in its little jail, being polite and waiting ever-so-patiently for them to return its BedHat to its rightful owner. Not that they ever did, clearly because they wanted it for themselves. They were too big to even <em>sleep</em> in it!</p> <p>As it stewed silently, it became aware of footsteps outside the cell. It glanced up, via whatever nebulous mechanism a sapient Christmas pudding uses to glance, and was greeted with the sight of Dr. Primaru and Head Researcher Weigl behind the protective screening. They were flanked by a legion of guards, each armed with fire extinguishers.</p> <p>“Good evening, SCP-6850,” called Lena.</p> <p>This was suspicious. This was <em>very</em> suspicious. Still, it wasn’t one to turn down a potential opportunity. “Ah, hello friends! Am having a party? Very great, but sad to party in jail. Maybe… me come out for a bit?"</p> <p>Weigl and Lena glanced at each other. "…Yes, that sounds like a good idea," said the latter. "Since you've been good recently, we have a little reward for you."</p> <p>Now it was paying attention. "Oh! For me?" It began rocking back and forth. "Ooh, is it cat? Am responsible, will not cook it very-"</p> <p>"It's not a cat," Weigl said shortly. "But…" He fidgeted with a pen he'd had in his pocket. "It does mean taking you outside for a bit. Only a few minutes!"</p> <p>Outside?</p> <p>They were letting it <em>outside</em>?</p> <p>Hah! The idiots. No chance of it getting lost this time - not that it would have alone, it was obviously too smart for that - they would lead it straight to freedom! And it would play along, oh yes it would, but when those doors opened? It’d be free, free as a bird. Whatever a bird was. It’d never knowingly seen one, but it knew they were free. Probably vaguely-round fires, that seemed the most sensible conclusion.</p> <p>After a moment, it realised it’d been chortling out loud. Hopefully no-one would notice. “Aha, just thinking how nice you friends is. So nice, now, if you just be letting-“</p> <p>“If you behave,” Weigl interrupted, “and I mean <em>behave</em>, we might - <em>might</em>, let you have Dash A for a bit.” There was a moment’s silence, before Lena jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “I mean, your, uh, BedHat,” he sighed, but it knew full well what he meant.</p> <p>The world fell silent. A flood of images seared their way through SCP-6850's fragmented mind: it sleeping cosily in BedHat atop a great hill, it wearing BedHat and happily exploring human culture in a bookstore that had no idea what was about to hit it, BedHat being snatched away from it by a cruel twist of fate.</p> <p><em>We will definitely let you have BedHat back</em>, he said.</p> <p>"Okay!" it said brightly. "Am be good!"</p> <p>It would decide exactly how good it would be once it got out.</p> <hr/> <p>They looked an odd bunch as they made their way through the Site-322 corridors; Lena and Weigl leading the way, the security formed a circle around SCP-6850, escorting it as though they were priests walking a ritual sacrifice to the altar.</p> <p>SCP-6850 did its best to make conversation with the two doctors, still harbouring some hope that they'd pass by the storage lockers as they went. It had to admit, though, escaping was <em>much</em> easier when your villainous captors simply <em>led</em> you to the exit.</p> <p>"So, what is treat then?" it prodded.</p> <p>"It's a surprise." Lena gave it a reassuring smile. Weigl tried to do the same, to less convincing results.</p> <p>"Think of it as a Christmas present," he said.</p> <p>"Chris Mass? Who is Chris Mass?" Were they another doctor? Was <em>that</em> who had BedHat all along?</p> <p>Lena laughed gently. "No, Christmas is a, um, a holiday. A celebration, where humans get together and exchange gifts. This is a gift for you, I suppose."</p> <p>"Oh." They carried on in silence. "Am not get you anything."</p> <p>"That's alright, you weren't to know," said Weigl, before he stopped. "Oh. We're here." His face was all contorted in an odd way. Maybe he was ill, thought the orb. Good. Present or no present, he was terribly mean to it.</p> <p>"So, this way out?" <em>So</em> easy.</p> <p>"It is. Now remember, don't run off. You won't get BedHat back if you run off," Lena chided.</p> <p>SCP-6850 giggled. "How can run off? Am not have legs!"</p> <p>"You know what he means." Weigl hesitated, and Lena rolled his eyes.</p> <p>"Shall I open it then?"</p> <p>His colleague sighed. "No, I'll… I'll do it now."</p> <p>And he did.</p> <p>It had been so long, SCP-6850 had almost forgotten what "outside" looked like, save for on television. A winding road led away from the doors into a a thick forest, exactly the sort of forest it loved to play in. Set ablaze by the setting sun, the sky was orange, darkening in parts to deep blue, and a few stars were already peeking through to start the night shift.</p> <p>Oh, how it had missed outside. Without really thinking, it found itself edging forward. Impulse control had never been its strong point, and right now the competing urges to zoom off at Mach 2 into the woods and never ever come back to this boring place competed with the desire to go back and get its BedHat, its home, its comfort blanket.</p> <p>The woods were closer, though…</p> <p>Unseen by it in its rapture, Lena nodded to Weigl. He called out "You can start now!"</p> <p><em>Start what?</em></p> <p>BANG!</p> <p>Brilliant white light shot up into the sky and exploded into a shower of sparks. Then another, blue, like its own flame. Crimson fire shot into the dusk sky, fizzing and bursting out into all directions like an umbrella opening up above them. And it continued on and on, green, vermilion, blinding white again, a spiral of coloured fire whirling overhead, and SCP-6850 was enraptured.</p> <p>So much fire! So many colours! Not <em>round</em> fires, but you couldn't have everything, could you? Was this a thing that humans did? Did they celebrate fires too? Maybe there <em>were</em> some brains in there, after all.</p> <p>It didn't know how long had passed, but it kept watching the display, until a sparkling red firework blazed up into the air, and then… none followed it. Shaken out of its reverie, it looked down, to see the guards surrounding it, flame-retardants at the ready.</p> <p>Oh. It had been so distracted, it had forgotten to escape. Well, that solved the question of whether to flee or liberate BedHat, at least.</p> <p>"Alright, am going," it grumbled, but a few magenta flames whizzing around its body betrayed more excitement than it intended to display.</p> <p>"Doc, do humans worship the flames?" it queried. Lena laughed.</p> <p>"I suppose some of us do. I think appreciate is a more appropriate term."</p> <p>"Good. Is sensible thing to do." They carried on, back down the corridors to its jail. "Can… Am like to see more sky flames. Will be good, always good."</p> <p>"Well, the fact that you didn't make a break for it makes it more likely we'll do it again. I'll try to make it soon." He smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed your present. Merry Christmas, SCP-6850."</p> <p>It didn't really know what that meant, but: "Thank…"</p> <p>As they walked, Weigl leaned over to Lena. “So tell me,” he murmured so that SCP-6850 couldn't hear, “how exactly did you plan to get it back if it made a break for it?”</p> <p>“I was going to tell it about stars.”</p> <p>Carson snorted. “You were going to tell the damn thing we depend on a fiery orb to live?"</p> <p>"That's right."</p> <p>"Please leave that one in the bank, it’ll never shut up about it.”</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/taking-the-heat-out">Taking The Heat Out</a>" by Sound Chaser, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/taking-the-heat-out">https://scpwiki.com/taking-the-heat-out</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:magnus-web-format">:scp-wiki:theme:magnus-web-format</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Content note: Nothing significant. If you notice anything tag-worthy that's not in here, though, please mention it in a comment. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] Deep within the woodland of Washington, under a glittering sky, hell was stirring. Cinders begat embers, which begat smoulders, which intensified over and over until they became a blaze, infesting and devouring trees then jumping to the next for another bite. Clouds of smoke thicker than tar belched upwards, combining with licks of flame to create abstract art in the night sky. The air shimmered like silk. Had anyone been present to witness, they would have thought it an inhospitable nightmare for any living thing, somewhere nothing could survive. This rather depends on your definition of “living thing,” though. Because had this hypothetical observer looked closer, they might have noticed, among all the orange flame, a small, round patch flickering. Iridescent blue, white, yellow, a beacon in the dull, smoky sea. One that seemed to be wearing a bowl. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6850 The ball of fire] gleefully pounced on a patch of untouched foliage, incinerating it with the ferocity of a lion, before bouncing ludicrously high onto a collapsing tree trunk. Flipping its trusty BedHat, it rode its way down the incline like an Olympic skier, launching itself off just before it hit the ground and pinballing its way off several more trees, obliterating chunks in its scorching wake. It overshot one, catapulting it into the ground and sending the bowl skidding off into a relatively untouched clearing. A quick yelp at this indignity before it scurried off after it. Uncaring as its intense heat set off an unstoppable chain reaction within the formerly lush clearing, it hopped into the bowl, hunkering down contentedly. Its flame dulled to a cool blue, the forest burning around it. ---- "And then woke up, and //bam//! Trees all grey and crumbly, so me get bored and go //really fast// to city - did you know there is houses with floaty orbs in? With letters in Human, lots of colours - make burn really loud!" The flaming ball in the containment cell finally stopped bouncing off the walls with every exclamation and rolled to a halt in the centre of the room. With a hesitant smile on his face, Dr. Ilena Primaru nodded in a manner he hoped suggested he hadn’t completely lost track of what the little orb was talking about two minutes ago. “I see. That’s really interesting, SCP-6850, but I was only asking what you'd been watching on the TV recently?” “Oh.” The fire dimmed slightly. “Got carried away.” “That’s alright.” He contemplated the orb for a moment. “You really miss your old life, don’t you?” After a brief pause, SCP-6850 began trundling back and forth. “Me like going wherever, no humans to tell what to do, or shout at me, or imprison. No Dr. Wiggle and tray-truss Meta-Orb being mean. And still want BedHat!" "Yes, ah, we're doing our best on that front," he said quickly, mindful of setting off another tantrum. SCP-6850 sulked. "Could do better." Lena considered his next sentence carefully. "I think we might be able to do something nice for you." It perked up at that. "Like freeing?" "Maybe not that, just... something to alleviate the boredom." "Hmm..." A quick burst of red diffused through its fire. "Yep! Am want something nice." "Good! I'll, um, have to talk to Dr. Weigl about it first, though." ---- “No.” “I’m not asking for anything, Carson,” Lena insisted, sipping at his coffee as he leaned on the counter. The Site-322 break room was empty but for them and a small plastic Christmas tree in white on one of the tables, the only concession to the season. Some sites completely blew off Christmas, some celebrated like all of humanity depended on it to contain the Scarlet King, but Site-322 fell into the most common model of “it’s a good excuse for a party on expenses.” “You didn’t have to. I can feel the ‘asking-for-something’ in your voice.” Head Researcher Carson Weigl was a reasonable man, by-and-large. Occasionally, when SCP-6850 was involved, he forgot that. Arms folded as he stood by the door, his anticipatory glare burnt holes into Lena. “That being said-“ “And there it is.” With a small groan, he pushed himself upright. “Look, uh, what you have to understand is that we need some give-and-take here,” he reasoned, to which Carson scoffed. “Oh? And what’s it given us here? If it’s really better to give than receive, I’d say we’re pretty damn blessed thanks to that thing.” “You’ve got to look at things from its perspective, though. It’s not sat in there logically reasoning how actually we’re being perfectly fair to it, it’s sulking because as far as it’s concerned, we’re just some Grinches ruining its fun for personal satisfaction.” Weigl hesitated, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. Fine! Just… what do you suggest?” His shoulders loosening slightly, Lena took another sip of coffee, buying him a few seconds to phrase things. "I want to give it a one-off treat. Nothing hugely expensive, um, just something to show... willing, to show we're paying attention to it, considering it. Given Admin are still dragging their heels over returning its BedHa - uh, Dash A, it'd be something to tide it over." As his colleague contemplated this, he drummed his fingers on the counter. "That doesn't sound so bad," he reasoned. "Is there a catch?" //Now the tricky bit.// “I, uh, want to let it outside.” Somehow, Weigl managed to choke despite his mouth being empty. “You //what//?” "I don't mean set it free!" he clarified quickly. "I just mean, uh, for a few minutes, under controlled conditions." "Have you //tried// controlling conditions with that thing loose?" Lena wasn't actually aware that a human being could turn that shade of plum. Every day was a learning day at the Foundation. "Are you actively trying to send me to an early grave or is that just incidental?" He drained the dregs of his coffee, savouring the flavour for a moment, and sighed. “Carson, I do my best, but my priority’s not actually to make your life easier, it’s the wellbeing of those in my care. Keeping you from going grey is just, um, a happy side effect. Happier people and, uh, entities tend to create fewer problems.” “You really think I don’t know that?” “Sometimes people need reminding,” Lena shrugged. "Look, I understand your concern, and I fully expect us to take all necessary precautions. I have a few ideas to keep it distracted, too. I'll submit an official proposal to you tomorrow, and if you don't like it I won't press the issue." Weigl harrumphed. "It'll have to be a hell of a proposal for me to let that thing out." "Not biased against it at all, are we?" He gave him a sour look. "Why would I be? "I've no idea." Lena raised the empty mug to his mouth. "Dr. Wiggle," he murmured. "What was that?" "Nothing." He thought for a moment. "Did you manage to get Christmas off?" "I did. We're going up to my father's for the weekend. Been a hell of a year, especially for him." "That's good. You should spend Christmas doing what you love, with people you love. Not stuck somewhere you don't want to be, on your own." "Mm." There was quiet for a moment as Weigl digested this. Then another. Then finally: "Oh, //alright//," he groaned, a sour look on his face, "I'll consider it." Lena grinned, and went to put his mug in the dishwasher. "Thank you, Carson." "//Only// consider it, mind," he insisted. "God damn you, doctor, appealing to my better nature." Slamming the door shut, Lena gave a rueful shrug. "You work for the Foundation, just be thankful you still have one. I'll have the proposal on your desk by, um, tomorrow morning. If all goes as I expect, we won't have any problems." He straightened his lapels and made briskly for the exit. “We better not. So help me, if it all goes pear-shaped and I end up having to grovel at the wheels of a gumball machine again, I will hold you personally responsible!” Weigl called after him. "Noted!" ---- SCP-6850 was bored. Bored bored bored bored bored. It was the humans' fault. Humans were boring. Questions, questions, questions, while it smouldered in its little jail, being polite and waiting ever-so-patiently for them to return its BedHat to its rightful owner. Not that they ever did, clearly because they wanted it for themselves. They were too big to even //sleep// in it! As it stewed silently, it became aware of footsteps outside the cell. It glanced up, via whatever nebulous mechanism a sapient Christmas pudding uses to glance, and was greeted with the sight of Dr. Primaru and Head Researcher Weigl behind the protective screening. They were flanked by a legion of guards, each armed with fire extinguishers. “Good evening, SCP-6850,” called Lena. This was suspicious. This was //very// suspicious. Still, it wasn’t one to turn down a potential opportunity. “Ah, hello friends! Am having a party? Very great, but sad to party in jail. Maybe… me come out for a bit?" Weigl and Lena glanced at each other. "...Yes, that sounds like a good idea," said the latter. "Since you've been good recently, we have a little reward for you." Now it was paying attention. "Oh! For me?" It began rocking back and forth. "Ooh, is it cat? Am responsible, will not cook it very-" "It's not a cat," Weigl said shortly. "But..." He fidgeted with a pen he'd had in his pocket. "It does mean taking you outside for a bit. Only a few minutes!" Outside? They were letting it //outside//? Hah! The idiots. No chance of it getting lost this time - not that it would have alone, it was obviously too smart for that - they would lead it straight to freedom! And it would play along, oh yes it would, but when those doors opened? It’d be free, free as a bird. Whatever a bird was. It’d never knowingly seen one, but it knew they were free. Probably vaguely-round fires, that seemed the most sensible conclusion. After a moment, it realised it’d been chortling out loud. Hopefully no-one would notice. “Aha, just thinking how nice you friends is. So nice, now, if you just be letting-“ “If you behave,” Weigl interrupted, “and I mean //behave//, we might - //might//, let you have Dash A for a bit.” There was a moment’s silence, before Lena jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “I mean, your, uh, BedHat,” he sighed, but it knew full well what he meant. The world fell silent. A flood of images seared their way through SCP-6850's fragmented mind: it sleeping cosily in BedHat atop a great hill, it wearing BedHat and happily exploring human culture in a bookstore that had no idea what was about to hit it, BedHat being snatched away from it by a cruel twist of fate. //We will definitely let you have BedHat back//, he said. "Okay!" it said brightly. "Am be good!" It would decide exactly how good it would be once it got out. ---- They looked an odd bunch as they made their way through the Site-322 corridors; Lena and Weigl leading the way, the security formed a circle around SCP-6850, escorting it as though they were priests walking a ritual sacrifice to the altar. SCP-6850 did its best to make conversation with the two doctors, still harbouring some hope that they'd pass by the storage lockers as they went. It had to admit, though, escaping was //much// easier when your villainous captors simply //led// you to the exit. "So, what is treat then?" it prodded. "It's a surprise." Lena gave it a reassuring smile. Weigl tried to do the same, to less convincing results. "Think of it as a Christmas present," he said. "Chris Mass? Who is Chris Mass?" Were they another doctor? Was //that// who had BedHat all along? Lena laughed gently. "No, Christmas is a, um, a holiday. A celebration, where humans get together and exchange gifts. This is a gift for you, I suppose." "Oh." They carried on in silence. "Am not get you anything." "That's alright, you weren't to know," said Weigl, before he stopped. "Oh. We're here." His face was all contorted in an odd way. Maybe he was ill, thought the orb. Good. Present or no present, he was terribly mean to it. "So, this way out?" //So// easy. "It is. Now remember, don't run off. You won't get BedHat back if you run off," Lena chided. SCP-6850 giggled. "How can run off? Am not have legs!" "You know what he means." Weigl hesitated, and Lena rolled his eyes. "Shall I open it then?" His colleague sighed. "No, I'll... I'll do it now." And he did. It had been so long, SCP-6850 had almost forgotten what "outside" looked like, save for on television. A winding road led away from the doors into a a thick forest, exactly the sort of forest it loved to play in. Set ablaze by the setting sun, the sky was orange, darkening in parts to deep blue, and a few stars were already peeking through to start the night shift. Oh, how it had missed outside. Without really thinking, it found itself edging forward. Impulse control had never been its strong point, and right now the competing urges to zoom off at Mach 2 into the woods and never ever come back to this boring place competed with the desire to go back and get its BedHat, its home, its comfort blanket. The woods were closer, though... Unseen by it in its rapture, Lena nodded to Weigl. He called out "You can start now!" //Start what?// BANG! Brilliant white light shot up into the sky and exploded into a shower of sparks. Then another, blue, like its own flame. Crimson fire shot into the dusk sky, fizzing and bursting out into all directions like an umbrella opening up above them. And it continued on and on, green, vermilion, blinding white again, a spiral of coloured fire whirling overhead, and SCP-6850 was enraptured. So much fire! So many colours! Not //round// fires, but you couldn't have everything, could you? Was this a thing that humans did? Did they celebrate fires too? Maybe there //were// some brains in there, after all. It didn't know how long had passed, but it kept watching the display, until a sparkling red firework blazed up into the air, and then... none followed it. Shaken out of its reverie, it looked down, to see the guards surrounding it, flame-retardants at the ready. Oh. It had been so distracted, it had forgotten to escape. Well, that solved the question of whether to flee or liberate BedHat, at least. "Alright, am going," it grumbled, but a few magenta flames whizzing around its body betrayed more excitement than it intended to display. "Doc, do humans worship the flames?" it queried. Lena laughed. "I suppose some of us do. I think appreciate is a more appropriate term." "Good. Is sensible thing to do." They carried on, back down the corridors to its jail. "Can... Am like to see more sky flames. Will be good, always good." "Well, the fact that you didn't make a break for it makes it more likely we'll do it again. I'll try to make it soon." He smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed your present. Merry Christmas, SCP-6850." It didn't really know what that meant, but: "Thank..." As they walked, Weigl leaned over to Lena. “So tell me,” he murmured so that SCP-6850 couldn't hear, “how exactly did you plan to get it back if it made a break for it?” “I was going to tell it about stars.” Carson snorted. “You were going to tell the damn thing we depend on a fiery orb to live?" "That's right." "Please leave that one in the bank, it’ll never shut up about it.” [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-03T17:47:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "tale" ]	Taking The Heat Out - SCP Foundation	2	[ "scp-6850", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1445383196	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/taking-the-heat-out
taking-the-reinz	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>I first met Goldbaker in, of all places, a strip club.</p> <p>You wouldn't think the old man has it in him, though Goldbaker prefers to go by they or them. I've seen them in dresses, not Roman togas or Scottish tartans, genuine 1950s dresses. We all did that sort of thing back then — there are pictures of me in drag too, it was all for a laugh or a lark, and I look ridiculous — but I always felt odd when I saw Goldbaker's unique ethereal beauty. They were as natural in those dresses as the usual business suits.</p> <p>You don't question someone as powerful as that, and really once my grandson became my granddaughter she was so goddamn happy, so I saw no reason to judge them for their proclivities. When I was a young man, I was judgmental, but even then I knew their money was as green as anyone else's.</p> <p>I'm an old man now. I forget things, fall back on instincts. And Goldbaker is as young and ageless as they ever were.</p> <p>There he was, sitting on a couch, a girl on each leg.</p> <p>You have to understand the incongruity of this image. This is Goldbaker. One of the most powerful people in the world, lurking in the shadows, completely unspoken of. They looked completely unassuming. And I didn't know who they were, at first, of course.</p> <p>There were certain assumptions of anonymity in that place. This was a secret club that I'm not sure exists any longer. Heaven knows my wife would be mad if I went back to check. But the only way to get here was to take an elevator up to a luxury apartment, leave that apartment through a back door, take another elevator, and then you'd be in. There was an exit you weren't supposed to take. And in the pale light of the club, I could have been imagining things, but some of the dancers had skin so olive it was almost green, and ears that seemed to taper to a point.</p> <p>Goldbaker was deep in conversation with these girls. They were feeling themselves up, presenting themselves to Goldbaker, generally doing all the things that you pay for when you go to a strip joint. And the old man just sits there, every minute or so pulling out another two hundred dollars and giving a hundred to each of them, seemingly interested in nothing more than talk. Genteel. Polite. Genial.</p> <p>I was enjoying myself, of course, but it seemed that every time I glanced in that direction, over the course of an hour, Goldbaker was still there. And he was still giving the girls the bills.</p> <p>And I know what you're thinking. A sad, pathetic, lonely old man throwing money for the tiniest scrap of female attention, without demanding anything at all in return. A truly ancient and common story. The oldest profession. But it was different. In a place like that, everyone knows they're just there to make deals. Everyone has what someone else wants, and you're trading just the bare surface level of it. There isn't so much respect as repressed disdain — for most.</p> <p>They respected Goldbaker.</p> <p>Eventually, curiosity overwhelmed my other, baser desires. I approached.</p> <p>Nobody wants to be networked at by other sweaty businessmen in a strip club. But Goldbaker beamed as soon as he saw me.</p> <p>"Excuse me, ladies," he said. "Eirinn, Mizuki, it was wonderful speaking with you both. Same time next week?"</p> <p>They both muttered some customary girlish dismissals and went back to doing their real jobs.</p> <p>"Werner Reinz!" said Goldbaker, his voice lilting and melodic. I was shocked, truly, that he knew my name.</p> <p>It was hard to get a good look at him in the pink and purple light of the strip club. His skin was tan, or perhaps brown, but I couldn't get a grasp of the distinctions of his features. He had a full head of hair, cut in whatever was most professional for that time. A hallmark of Goldbaker's fashion, mirroring whatever is "professional" for the time and place, and so that's how I remember them. Chameleonically fashionable.</p> <p>I should also note that Goldbaker didn't express their desire to be referred to as they/them explicitly until relatively late in our partnership. They would gently nudge me to refer to them as a collective, or by the moniker of the firm, but as for the individual? When I saw them in this first encounter, I thought them a man. And they didn't bother correcting me for a long while.</p> <p>Though I often wondered, even then, if Goldbaker truly was just one individual.</p> <p>"It is wonderful to have this chance to meet you," Goldbaker said enthusiastically. "Goldbaker, of Goldbaker Ltd. Though I don't expect you to know who I am."</p> <p>I did not, and I expressed my ignorance in a less-than-polite manner.</p> <p>Goldbaker looked at me with that smug, knowing expression I would come to hate in the years to come. "I think," they said, "You will. We'll be seeing a bit more of each other, I think."</p> <hr/> <p>I didn't think about him too much for a while after that. I was too busy running my own burgeoning insurance business. My partner, who went by Jim Kurosaki in English, had access to technology that I didn't care to understand at the time. I didn't think I needed to. If it made us money, anything could be justified.</p> <p>"With your knack for the markets, Werner-san, and my knack for the cutting edge, we will rule the futures," he would always say, with a twinkle in his eye. He knew full well we were barely exposed to the futures markets, and his accent, if any, was perfectly British. I think he liked to play up the stereotypes to catch our business adversaries off guard. When it came time to name our insurance business, he'd insisted on giving me the credit, calling it the Reinz Group. More than happy to work from the shadows.</p> <p>For my part, I was more than happy to be the public face of the company. Because when we had the good days, I looked like the golden boy. And we had so many, many good days, and they were <em>mine.</em> I would go out to the Street, reach out to businesses and offer them contracts, and always get the sale. I could upsell anyone on any policy, regardless if they needed them or not.</p> <p>Then when I got back to the office, Jim and his machines would tell me where I should spend my time next. Sometimes I'd come to them with thoughts on potential customers, and he'd tell me what the computers said — whether they were worth my time, or whether they were riskier than they seemed. At first I'd resisted, but after the first bankruptcy that he'd predicted where I hadn't, I got wise and started listening.</p> <p>Others? Of course there were others — the secretaries and accountants and lawyers. But we were the ones who mattered, the ones who made the big decisions.</p> <p>There was one time when there was a potential client that just would not budge, a valuable one — millions on the line. Coleman or Coolson or something like that. Jim had impressed upon me that getting their business was the difference between summering in the Caymans or not. But all my tactics just wouldn't work. Rhetoric and the regular sales pitch. Golf, all expenses paid. Drinks in a strip joint and a private room. None of it got them to budge in the slightest.</p> <p>I was venting my frustrations to Jim in our office after a painful and frustrating day, a decanter of whiskey sloshing about in my fist. I could already see the beaches of the Caymans fading away, far out of my grasp.</p> <p>Jim listened patiently, sipping from his own drink, a hundred-year-old wine, flipping through his notebook. His eyes were elsewhere, as they often were, lost in thoughts of his computing machines.</p> <p>"What is it going to take," I said. "He's so bullheaded. I've done the usual playbook, and he's stonewalling me. Burned almost ten-kay on this guy and nothing to show for it. You said this asshole would be worth it."</p> <p>"I did," Jim said. He sipped his wine and scribbled a quick sketch in his notebook.</p> <p>"What are you even drawing anyways," I said, reaching for the book. And, as he had a hundred times before, he flipped it closed and drew it from my reach.</p> <p>"I've told you, Werner-san. Once I tell you about the inner workings of our art, you step through door that you cannot go back through."</p> <p>"Don't slap a fucking honorific on my name and put that ridiculous accent on with me, Jim. You said this would be worth it, but it hasn't been. Way things are going, I'd have to ransom his kid to get him to budge."</p> <p>He looked up from his wine. "Ransom his kid, butcher his family dog, sell his wife to a circus?"</p> <p>"I can already see a beach in the Caymans. Perfect cerulean waters, just warm enough to jump in. Sand so white and smooth it might as well be cocaine. That's what's waiting for us."</p> <p>He drained his glass of wine and stalked off. I didn't even think for a second that my joke had been too far, but if I'd lost his attention there was little point in trying to regain it. He was interested in the finer things in life as much as I was, but on his own terms.</p> <p>He reappeared half an hour later. "Coleman's got a silent partner. Jeremiah Rasputinov ben Diangelo. Fake name, originally born as one of the <a href="/project-proposal-2007-012">poorer Carnegies.</a> One of those people who's been bouncing from cult to cult their entire life. Joined the Rosicrucians in their 20s, dabbled with the Davidians a few decades later, looking into something called 'Heaven's Gate' now. Somehow got Coleman's ear, despite all that."</p> <p>I poured myself a fifth drink. "So what's the angle?"</p> <p>"You won't have to do any kidnapping."</p> <p>"Damn."</p> <p>He handed me a hideous rubber mask, colored grey, with bulbous and angular eyes, an oversized forehead, and a chin that tapered to a sharp point. It was warm to the touch, though rapidly cooling, and it smelled of sulfur, as fresh rubber tends to.</p> <p>"Ever pretended to be an alien, Reinz?"</p> <p>I have dozens of other stories like that, but no one's all that interested in them. They're pageantry. Bluster. Fun stories for drinking buddies, but not so much when you're "old and respected." As the years went on, the mild fraud of pretending to be an extraterrestrial messenger seemed outright quaint. There was dirty business, dirtier than usual for the Street — but everyone's more interested in those around me.</p> <p>Because as much as I thought myself the star, I wasn't. Jim's family was mysterious. He rarely spoke of them, and any private investigators I hired would either vanish or cut off the job and return all the money I'd paid them. It's a terrible thing to not be able to trust your business partners, that's something I learned from Goldbaker, but I knew it even then. I wondered often whether Kurosaki might vanish on me, disappear in the blink of an eye, and leave me with nothing but my wits, my connections, and my smile.</p> <p>So I asked him to show me how his technology worked.</p> <p><a href="/a-brief-explanation-on-demonics">The Daemonic circuit,</a> Kurosaki had said, was an innovation that granted Reinz Group a competitive edge above other financial institutions. Exidy and IBM and a little known group Prometheus were all applying this technology, but they simply weren't exploring its potential in the insurance business. There were connections to the tradition of western occult tradition of Goetia, Kurosaki had said, but he viewed that as silly western superstitions. After all, alchemy was the source of modern chemistry all the same, and no one was achieving immortality through that.</p> <p>Daemonic circuits could crunch numbers, analyze data in a way that regular integrated circuits couldn't. They were smarter, more capable, nonlinear. The Astaroth configuration was capable of machine learning and advanced pattern recognition, concepts that wouldn't become common on the Street for decades to come.</p> <p>He was still holding things back, but that was fine with me. It worked for the both of us. We were exactly as visible as we needed to be.</p> <hr/> <p>On weeks that went well, Jim and I would go back to that club. I got a closer look at some of the dancers, of course, and often I'd wonder just how much effort it took to make their ears look so seamlessly pointed, and just how they kept those gossamer wings so warm.</p> <p>And every damn time, Goldbaker would be there. Just having conversations. Often with different girls, for weeks at a time. And then one day they'd be gone, and he'd just replace them. With some other dancer. Not just any girl, though — he was selective, though I couldn't tell you how.</p> <p>It was ridiculous. Who throws away a thousand dollars a night for idle conversation?</p> <p>After ten or so visits, I broached the topic with Jim.</p> <p>"So. This 'Goldbaker'," I said. "I see him at the club every time we go."</p> <p>Jim had frozen when the name was uttered. He asked why I gave a damn.</p> <p>"Because he's fucking weird," I said in response. "Who the fuck goes to a goddamn strip joint for conversation? Why do they quit?"</p> <p>"He's recruiting them," Jim said quietly.</p> <p>"He a pimp?"</p> <p>Jim barked a sardonic laugh. Nothing could be further from that case, as it turned out.</p> <p><a href="/scp-6987">Goldbaker Limited</a>, it seemed, was among Reinz Group's competitors — a private general insurance firm. No specialization, no geographical restrictions, no restrictions on clientele. An opponent with endless reach and deep pockets. I'd raised my eyebrow at that. Why on earth would the Reinz Group be going up against someone like that? We had our core business competencies, and they were narrow yet profitable.</p> <p>And why was their head honcho recruiting exotic dancers personally?</p> <p>Jim Kurosaki, as it turned out, had a hidden agenda, which I'd fully expected from the beginning. There was some ancient family feud between his family and Goldbaker — not the Goldbaker family, but Goldbaker the individual specifically. Goldbaker's businesses was best in class, ultimately unassailable, yet somehow I'd never heard of them. I'd heard of Lloyd's of London, Allianz, Prudential. Axa Group, China Life, Zurich, MetLife. All of the giants in the insurance space. But Goldbaker Ltd.?</p> <p>Jim was never the type to lie, only to omit.</p> <p>There was a world of hidden giants and titans, and Goldbaker played in that world. A world with power beyond the wildest imagining of most, even CEOs and senators. A world that our use of Daemonics implicitly put us in. Go much further, and we'd be forced to play in that world and that world alone, our core customer base in the mundane world denied to us. A world of shadow governments and a secretive organization called the Foundation. They had a vested interest in keeping the world "normal," and if that meant suppressing technology and keeping the common man down — well, they'd done it before and they'd do it again, and our windfall would dry up.</p> <p>For a rare time in my life, I wondered if I was in over my head.</p> <p>I took a deep breath.</p> <p>Then I asked him how much money was in it, the secrets of the strippers forgotten.</p> <p>That's what gets us all, isn't it?</p> <hr/> <p>Sometimes I wonder if I got more reckless after that, selling as much as I could, making grander and grander promises, doing dirtier and dirtier things. Jim had told me that magic was real, and as ridiculous as it was, he'd shown me some parlor trick that I'd found incredibly convincing. I suppose I'd fooled myself into thinking that if you could make a pile of coins disappear you could do the same to a pile of debts.</p> <p>I hated the feeling of being ignorant of the core workings of a business that bore my name. Ironic, now. So I wasn't satisfied just being a bystander as Jim did all the real work, tinkering with the Daemonic circuits and tuning them to the Astaroth and Beleth and GAAP configurations. I wanted to get my hands dirty myself.</p> <p>Jim told me it was dangerous. That this was different from cracking open a ledger and scribbling some equations on a chalkboard. He told me in no uncertain terms that without years of practice in "thaumaturgic arts" that I'd be constantly dancing above the precipice of self annihilation, never sure whether my circuits were safe enough.</p> <p>I didn't care. I was self taught in almost everything else that mattered. I had an MBA and the hubris that comes with one, and everything after that had shown me that experience mattered a thousand times more. Now, Jim was a stubborn man, but I was every bit as stubborn. So every day, after I'd finished a full day's worth of calling up prop trading funds and other small shops on the Street, I'd come back to our office to watch Jim tweak and finagle the Daemonic circuits. I can't understate how much I appreciated what he did for me.</p> <p>In the past few years, I've seen the proliferation of talk about cyberspace, metaverse, AI. You see all the flashy marketing materials from financial advisors trying to take retirees' money, of a cybernetic world made of gaudy special effects and bright lights everywhere. Grid lines of code, spinning blue diagrams, all sorts of stupid things. But real computer engineering is frankly much more mundane than that. Drawing diagrams on pieces of paper, soldering together bits of metal — it's boring by design. If something's flashing, something's wrong. Something's burning.</p> <p>Similarly, I've sat in on Satanists and Freemason ceremonies, at least the ones they deign to reveal to the public. It's just a bunch of oddballs in robes chanting while high on drugs and breathing in smoke. There are no magical effects, just hallucinations.</p> <p>But when I was working on those Daemonic circuits with Kurosaki in our office…</p> <p>I saw faces appear above the patterns in the circuitboards, horned visages shifting between familiar human features and animalian ones. The background hum of the electronic bastions would sound at times like the blaring of great and terrible trumpets, dissonant and chaotic.</p> <p>Forgive the ramblings of an old man. It was so many years ago, and I was always tired and more than not a tad drunk. I told myself, at that time, I was imagining such things.</p> <p>That's a lie. I thought they were incredible. I understood why Kurosaki was so happy letting me get all the credit, so willing to let me be the public face of his grand design. There was a true and sublime power in tinkering with the universe. I thought I was the one with the power, out there in the streets, brokering deals with the "power players" of Wall Street — but here, in our office, we were making contracts with the universe itself.</p> <p>That's what I believed Daemons were at the time. A background process of the universe, that you could call up and program. Give it instructions and have it spit back out the info you asked for. Computer science was in its infancy, but even then the term was already around. A computer Daemon is some sort of program, right, that thanklessly does tasks in the background of the computer and then goes away when you don't want anything from it.</p> <p>Fucking idiots we were.</p> <hr/> <p>We were in the insurance business. We were in the business of contracts, not the business of instructions. We were, I've come to believe, bartering with the forces of Hell in a language we only half understood. We were easily impressed. Flashing lights, ten successful deals in a row, and we stopped troubleshooting. We stopped looking as closely as we should have for bugs or glitches.</p> <p>Because on the outside, it didn't seem like anything at all was wrong. I got my instructions, I pitched ideas to Jim, we played around with Daemonic circuits until they activated and we got a printout of stuff we should do tomorrow for our own prosperity. Sometimes, the explanations were obvious — dress up like a movie alien to trick a gullible fool into parting with his money. But there were always provisions of the instructions I received that I didn't understand, stuff that if I left out I'd end up taking material losses. In the beginning, I analyzed the instructions just enough that if I squinted, my market intuition would give me some idea of how this would work towards our success. But as one year became two, I stopped questioning them because they'd never led me wrong before.</p> <p>I still don't know exactly whose agenda I ended up enacting, or how exactly I did what I did, or what exactly I'd done. Sometimes I wonder if all the bad things that happened in the city in the following decades were butterflies, rippling out from my actions. The various crashes, the rising crime rates… if I think back on the deals I made, the promises I gave, who I drank with and who I shoved out of moving boats, it's easy to imagine that in retrospect, the sum of all those tiny choices ended up serving some dark grand design.</p> <p>I could see Jim getting more and more erratic, too. He'd questioned the commands I was given more than I had at the start. We'd reversed places — he'd lost his faith, while I'd gained it. I was willing to…</p> <p>I was…</p> <p>I enjoyed my work. He didn't understand his, not anymore.</p> <p>He begged me to stop. I was too high on my own supply.</p> <p>There's a lot I could have said to him.</p> <p>One day, I went in at 7 A.M., like I always did, and he just looked at me.</p> <p>"It's not that bad," I said.</p> <p>He said his family was starting to take notice. I knew his family was some kind of merchant clan. This was great news! After all, it meant our endeavor was a success, didn't it? It meant his family could finally stick it to Goldbaker!</p> <p>He shook his head. His eyes were sunken, not just from sleep deprivation.</p> <p>We'd tumbled further and further into something we didn't understand, and we'd passed a point of no return. We'd punctured an ancient web of alliances and corporate contracts and Daemonic microdeals, and we'd apparently ruined something incredibly delicate, tipped the balance of power, shaken heaven. The situation called for a blood sacrifice.</p> <p>He said words that I wouldn't understand the significance of for years to come.</p> <p>"They want me to see my grandfather."</p> <p>I was a fool, you know. I thought it was metaphorical. I thought we could talk it through, smooth things over, appease his grandpa, and get back to business a few million dollars in the red. We would make it through it, in the end.</p> <p>I got my predictions from the Daemons, gave Jim a firm pat on the back, and went out for a day of selling.</p> <p>When I got back at 5, my office was on fire.</p> <p>The Daemonic computers were alight, smashed to bits by whatever Jim had on hand. I could smell incense and myrrh and sulfur, and hear donkeys braying, and crows shrieking, and cows mooing. They were in shambles, utterly irrecoverable — what little I knew of Daemonics wasn't enough to build whole operating systems and hardware from scratch. And even if I did — Jim had said the metal was exotic material, prometheum or orikalkos or what-have-you — stuff that I couldn't find in the encyclopedias of the day at all.</p> <p>There was no sign of Jim.</p> <p>I never saw him again.</p> <hr/> <p>I had nothing at that point. Everything I owned of value, every contract, everything that dictated our wealth and safety was in that office. Who insures the insurers? Usually bigger insurers, that's one of the core businesses of Goldbaker-Reinz, in fact, but obviously this wasn't an option back then and we'd been in too direct competition to make deals with anyone else. Too much ill will.</p> <p>I would have gone to a bar, drank away my sorrows, but I saw men waiting at the street corner, in dark suits and sunglasses, even though it was evening.</p> <p>I was spooked. What can I say. It had been a stressful day. There was incense in my nostrils and my ears were ringing with the echos of unearthly gongs.</p> <p>So I ran.</p> <p>I ran, I ran, and I ran. Ran, seeing enemies lurking in every shadow. Ran, until I ended up in a luxury apartment. Ran out the back door. Ran, until I was in that strip joint again. Slick with my own sweat, red in the face, heart practically palpitating.</p> <p>And there he fucking was. They. They fucking were. Goldbaker. Once again with a girl on each knee doing that fucking weird gentle patronage thing.</p> <p>They saw me.</p> <p>"Ladies," they said. "Tatiana, Jane. Please, excuse me."</p> <p>Goldbaker practically slid over to me.</p> <p>"Werner Reinz," they said. "I told you I'd be seeing you again."</p> <p>"I don't have time for your bullshit right now, man!" I said. Truth to be told, I had nothing and nowhere to turn.</p> <p>Goldbaker eyed me, neither warmly nor calculating. "Walk with me," they said. I followed like a beaten dog.</p> <p>They walked deftly past the bar, towards the far door.</p> <p>"Wait, we're not—" I said reflexively. That second door had been forbidden to me.</p> <p>"You are with me," Goldbaker said. "That makes all the difference. And it would be good, I think, to have this conversation in the open air."</p> <p>I followed them out the door, expecting to come out on some balcony or ledge.</p> <p>Then I stopped, blinking. I swayed on my feet.</p> <p>We were, against all logic, on an entire city street, despite having taken two elevators to come up here. There were no side streets and no alleyways, but the street itself was dotted with newsstands or other such posts. The buildings on the sides of the street were no taller than five or so storeys, but there were so many of them, and of so many styles. As if a building from every neighborhood in Manhattan had been torn apart and stitched together in a patchwork.</p> <p>The street itself was clear, but not like glass — more like rippling water or a distant heat haze. And far, far below us, I could see the island of Manhattan, bright with lights. I could see where Battery Park and the Financial District met the water, the lights giving way to darkness.</p> <p>"Where are we," I said, my voice soft.</p> <p>"Atop the Wall," Goldbaker said. "That's what they call it these days. A hidden financial district. Useful for those who trade in commodities that can't be listed in front of the Veil, those who aren't quite human, or those who just don't want to pay full rent."</p> <p>They chuckled.</p> <p>I didn't understand until much later. An ancient city, like Rome or Beijing or Jerusalem or London, has had time to crystallize, to become set and woven. Each of these cities has had booms and busts of Occult activity, each hollowing out bubbles of mystic or paranormal liminal space, every secret society stealing for themselves a Sanctum. Yet in the long course of millennia these spaces have faded, the secret societies that formed them long having ceased; or these once-secluded hermitages have merged and become one, the walls of fraternal factionalism giving way to communal wellsprings for parochial or national or imperial myth.</p> <p>New York is different. New York is young. A patchwork city, like many in the Americas, yet also the first port of call for every ambitious people. When de Waalstraat fell, its ghost remained, a border between the civilized Dutch and the barbarous privateers of the British. That impression, too, is long faded. In the modern world Wall Street is no barrier but instead a pulsing artery.</p> <p>The Wall towers over the little people of the City. Here is a center for parafinance, trades in shares of companies that only operate behind the Veil, commodities markets for proliferated anomalous materials, the second largest demonic derivatives market in the United States behind Undervegas.</p> <p>There are other places in New York hidden to the world. Backdoor Soho is a famous one that I've had the pleasure to visit. And everyone who knows anything would laugh in your face if you suggested that Backdoor Soho and Atop The Wall could be treated as part of one single magical place.</p> <p>Backdoor Soho is an artists' commune. But when you stand Atop The Wall, you stand atop a boardwalk of glass, a transparent floor that reveals the bustling city down below. Every institution and trade shop has a building along this boardwalk on the sides, so that you cannot possibly reach the edge by foot, and each building looks slightly different. There are buildings that reach as far back as the first Dutch colonization in the Americas, buildings that imitate Greco-Roman architectural styles through American eyes, and buildings that appear as mirrored silver. Yet each of them shares the purpose of chasing greed in occlusion.</p> <p>"Jim Kurosaki was a scion of the Darke family," Goldbaker said. "Rather on the nose, that surname. An ancient clan of merchants, traders, thieves."</p> <p>"Jim's—"</p> <p>"Icarian, ultimately. Flying too close to the sun and getting burned by the flame," Goldbaker said.</p> <p>"He's my friend," I said. "What the fuck do you want? This is the worst day of my life, and I didn't come here to get lectured by some old pervert."</p> <p>"You and I," Goldbaker said, "are in insurance. The business of buying risk. Marshall, Carter, and Dark are an auction house. They could be said to be in the business of selling it. Caveat emptor. Buy a product from Kurosaki's family business, and your customer service will consist solely of cleanup, should you die."</p> <p>Goldbaker <em>knew</em>. Goldbaker knew about the Daemons, had prepared for this contingency. Had perhaps seen everything up to this point.</p> <p>"You're smart, Werner," Goldbaker said. "Shrewd. A good salesman. You simply suffered from the most tragic of human flaws — knowledge without wisdom."</p> <p>They had some nerve.</p> <p>I looked down through the transparent floor of Atop the Wall. From up here, the lights blurred against wispy clouds far below. I imagined I could see my office burning.</p> <p>"What do you want with me?"</p> <p>"It is not a matter of what I want," Goldbaker said, "but how we can help each other."</p> <p>I snorted. It was difficult to believe. I had nothing to offer. I'd thought I was delving into forbidden lore, all those nights tinkering with Daemonics, when clearly I'd been a fucking idiot.</p> <p>"You have contacts and contracts, Werner," Goldbaker said. "I've watched the growth of your business. The Daemons might have told you where to go, but you were the one with the magic touch to sell it all. They needed you every bit as much as you needed their guidance. The unwitting hand of hell."</p> <p>"So I'm a fucking rube, is that it?"</p> <p>"I foresaw our meeting up here. I foresaw Jim Kurosaki would burn his computing machines. I foresaw that you would listen to the instructions of Daemons. But here, I can only guess what you do next."</p> <p>A brief intrusive thought. I could attack him, bash his head against the glass floor, see if I could shatter it and send us both tumbling to our dooms.</p> <p>"There is a world where all the contracts you have made go into default, with the catastrophic collapse of Reinz Group. Your clients realize that they took on risks based on protection they no longer have, which they now must unwind. They do so, and the markets shake. The world grows more dangerous, less safe, poorer. Not all at once, and not too far, but worse nonetheless."</p> <p>It sounded kind of crummy. I didn't realize it then, of course, but it would have played into the Daemons' plan, if they had one. Frankly, I think back then I still considered myself a good person, despite the blood on my hands. I thought I cared about humanity enough that I wouldn't want to cost it a decade or so of economic development.</p> <p>You get a distance from the impact of your choices when you work in our business. It's just moving numbers around on a ledger or wires around a circuit board, after all. It's abstract and meaningless.</p> <p>Until it's not.</p> <p>"There is another world in which my organization, Goldbaker, assumes your obligations, and all of that is avoided," Goldbaker said.</p> <p>"What's your price?"</p> <p>"I thought it would be obvious. You come work with me."</p> <p>"So that's why you're here," I said, gesturing at the strip club, which was really quite subdued from this side, with a pseudo-Assyrian design. "Recruiting."</p> <p>They almost looked hurt at my sarcasm. "Do you know what a leading indicator is?"</p> <p>"Of course I do."</p> <p>"They're enterprising young women who have fully come to terms with how dirty the transfer of money can be," they said. "And some are rather brilliant as well. I would be a fool to ignore such a deep well of talent. And, crucially, they are at the forefront of one of the first luxuries wealthy businessmen abandon. In those downturns, I am more than happy to provide employment."</p> <p>I sat down, crossed my legs, kept my eyes on the glass. The first rays of sunrise were touching the city below, coloring it pale rose.</p> <p>"They'll keep coming for me," I said. "Kurosaki's family. The Darks. I messed things up for them, somehow."</p> <p>"You did a very fine job of that," Goldbaker said. "I find it difficult to act against Percival Darke directly, as he does against me."</p> <p>"They won't stop until I'm dead."</p> <p>"They'll try," Goldbaker said. "And they'll fail. This, I can guarantee."</p> <p>And I believed it, I really did. That was why the Darks had sent Kurosaki out on his own in the first place, to try and break into the insurance industry, to weaken Goldbaker instead of pulling a direct assault. It had been my hubris, my folly, that had ended up hurting them instead. I understood why they wanted me dead.</p> <p>"I don't have a choice at all, do I?"</p> <p>"You do," Goldbaker said. "But I believe you, Werner Reinz, are two things. A good man, or at least you once were — and only human."</p> <p>Of course I said yes. Because they were right. I wanted to live.</p> <p>My life changed. From that day forth, I had to live with an integrity I hadn't before. Goldbaker hated deception, while I had been a creature of it.</p> <p>One of the first things I did once I'd gotten integrated into Goldbaker's machine was analyze a set of our policies, looked at the probabilities of gain and loss myself from all historical data. Do you know what I found?</p> <p>It was fair, in the financial sense. The expected value of our position was 0. In an ideal world, in the long run we would neither gain nor lose money on the sum total of those policies.</p> <p>I brought this to them, <a href="/a-day-in-the-balance">told them this was no way to run a business,</a> that we'd be run out of town by the end of the decade. But they put their foot down. They absolutely refused to let me gouge the prices, said this was essential, that we had more than enough to keep the lights on and the customers would get what they paid for — and nothing more.</p> <p>And for the decade after that, I waited for our inevitable collapse. Wondered if one day Goldbaker's protection would fail, and I would be chased through the streets of New York by shadowy figures without faces. But that day never came, still hasn't come. I don't understand why it hasn't, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not now.</p> <p>My life has been long and comfortable and everything I always wished for, in a way. I peered behind the curtain and rubbed shoulders with the true fulcrums of power and did some good in this world. But after a certain point, it was no longer exciting.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">More by LORDXVNV</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Hide</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <hr/> <div style="font-weight: bold;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:120%;">Other works by <a href="/lordxvnv">LORDXVNV!</a></span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:120%;">SCPs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6987">SCP-6987</a></td> <td>Rating: 467</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-8008">SCP-8008</a></td> <td>Rating: 337</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7069">SCP-7069</a></td> <td>Rating: 268</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7997">SCP-7997</a></td> <td>Rating: 217</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6572">SCP-6572</a></td> <td>Rating: 202</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6433">SCP-6433</a></td> <td>Rating: 167</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-1337-ex">SCP-1337-EX</a></td> <td>Rating: 161</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7715">SCP-7715</a></td> <td>Rating: 120</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7335">SCP-7335</a></td> <td>Rating: 90</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6248">SCP-6248</a></td> <td>Rating: 88</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7576">SCP-7576</a></td> <td>Rating: 68</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-1392">SCP-1392</a></td> <td>Rating: 54</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7634">SCP-7634</a></td> <td>Rating: 52</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6510">SCP-6510</a></td> <td>Rating: 43</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7272">SCP-7272</a></td> <td>Rating: 43</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-8814">SCP-8814</a></td> <td>Rating: 20</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:120%;">Tales</span></th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/top-5-colleges">These 5 Colleges are the Best for Learning Dark Powers! 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Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/taking-the-reinz">https://scpwiki.com/taking-the-reinz</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:bedrock">:scp-wiki:theme:bedrock</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] I first met Goldbaker in, of all places, a strip club. You wouldn't think the old man has it in him, though Goldbaker prefers to go by they or them. I've seen them in dresses, not Roman togas or Scottish tartans, genuine 1950s dresses. We all did that sort of thing back then -- there are pictures of me in drag too, it was all for a laugh or a lark, and I look ridiculous -- but I always felt odd when I saw Goldbaker's unique ethereal beauty. They were as natural in those dresses as the usual business suits. You don't question someone as powerful as that, and really once my grandson became my granddaughter she was so goddamn happy, so I saw no reason to judge them for their proclivities. When I was a young man, I was judgmental, but even then I knew their money was as green as anyone else's. I'm an old man now. I forget things, fall back on instincts. And Goldbaker is as young and ageless as they ever were. There he was, sitting on a couch, a girl on each leg. You have to understand the incongruity of this image. This is Goldbaker. One of the most powerful people in the world, lurking in the shadows, completely unspoken of. They looked completely unassuming. And I didn't know who they were, at first, of course. There were certain assumptions of anonymity in that place. This was a secret club that I'm not sure exists any longer. Heaven knows my wife would be mad if I went back to check. But the only way to get here was to take an elevator up to a luxury apartment, leave that apartment through a back door, take another elevator, and then you'd be in. There was an exit you weren't supposed to take. And in the pale light of the club, I could have been imagining things, but some of the dancers had skin so olive it was almost green, and ears that seemed to taper to a point. Goldbaker was deep in conversation with these girls. They were feeling themselves up, presenting themselves to Goldbaker, generally doing all the things that you pay for when you go to a strip joint. And the old man just sits there, every minute or so pulling out another two hundred dollars and giving a hundred to each of them, seemingly interested in nothing more than talk. Genteel. Polite. Genial. I was enjoying myself, of course, but it seemed that every time I glanced in that direction, over the course of an hour, Goldbaker was still there. And he was still giving the girls the bills. And I know what you're thinking. A sad, pathetic, lonely old man throwing money for the tiniest scrap of female attention, without demanding anything at all in return. A truly ancient and common story. The oldest profession. But it was different. In a place like that, everyone knows they're just there to make deals. Everyone has what someone else wants, and you're trading just the bare surface level of it. There isn't so much respect as repressed disdain -- for most. They respected Goldbaker. Eventually, curiosity overwhelmed my other, baser desires. I approached. Nobody wants to be networked at by other sweaty businessmen in a strip club. But Goldbaker beamed as soon as he saw me. "Excuse me, ladies," he said. "Eirinn, Mizuki, it was wonderful speaking with you both. Same time next week?" They both muttered some customary girlish dismissals and went back to doing their real jobs. "Werner Reinz!" said Goldbaker, his voice lilting and melodic. I was shocked, truly, that he knew my name. It was hard to get a good look at him in the pink and purple light of the strip club. His skin was tan, or perhaps brown, but I couldn't get a grasp of the distinctions of his features. He had a full head of hair, cut in whatever was most professional for that time. A hallmark of Goldbaker's fashion, mirroring whatever is "professional" for the time and place, and so that's how I remember them. Chameleonically fashionable. I should also note that Goldbaker didn't express their desire to be referred to as they/them explicitly until relatively late in our partnership. They would gently nudge me to refer to them as a collective, or by the moniker of the firm, but as for the individual? When I saw them in this first encounter, I thought them a man. And they didn't bother correcting me for a long while. Though I often wondered, even then, if Goldbaker truly was just one individual. "It is wonderful to have this chance to meet you," Goldbaker said enthusiastically. "Goldbaker, of Goldbaker Ltd. Though I don't expect you to know who I am." I did not, and I expressed my ignorance in a less-than-polite manner. Goldbaker looked at me with that smug, knowing expression I would come to hate in the years to come. "I think," they said, "You will. We'll be seeing a bit more of each other, I think." ------ I didn't think about him too much for a while after that. I was too busy running my own burgeoning insurance business. My partner, who went by Jim Kurosaki in English, had access to technology that I didn't care to understand at the time. I didn't think I needed to. If it made us money, anything could be justified. "With your knack for the markets, Werner-san, and my knack for the cutting edge, we will rule the futures," he would always say, with a twinkle in his eye. He knew full well we were barely exposed to the futures markets, and his accent, if any, was perfectly British. I think he liked to play up the stereotypes to catch our business adversaries off guard. When it came time to name our insurance business, he'd insisted on giving me the credit, calling it the Reinz Group. More than happy to work from the shadows. For my part, I was more than happy to be the public face of the company. Because when we had the good days, I looked like the golden boy. And we had so many, many good days, and they were //mine.// I would go out to the Street, reach out to businesses and offer them contracts, and always get the sale. I could upsell anyone on any policy, regardless if they needed them or not. Then when I got back to the office, Jim and his machines would tell me where I should spend my time next. Sometimes I'd come to them with thoughts on potential customers, and he'd tell me what the computers said -- whether they were worth my time, or whether they were riskier than they seemed. At first I'd resisted, but after the first bankruptcy that he'd predicted where I hadn't, I got wise and started listening. Others? Of course there were others -- the secretaries and accountants and lawyers. But we were the ones who mattered, the ones who made the big decisions. There was one time when there was a potential client that just would not budge, a valuable one -- millions on the line. Coleman or Coolson or something like that. Jim had impressed upon me that getting their business was the difference between summering in the Caymans or not. But all my tactics just wouldn't work. Rhetoric and the regular sales pitch. Golf, all expenses paid. Drinks in a strip joint and a private room. None of it got them to budge in the slightest. I was venting my frustrations to Jim in our office after a painful and frustrating day, a decanter of whiskey sloshing about in my fist. I could already see the beaches of the Caymans fading away, far out of my grasp. Jim listened patiently, sipping from his own drink, a hundred-year-old wine, flipping through his notebook. His eyes were elsewhere, as they often were, lost in thoughts of his computing machines. "What is it going to take," I said. "He's so bullheaded. I've done the usual playbook, and he's stonewalling me. Burned almost ten-kay on this guy and nothing to show for it. You said this asshole would be worth it." "I did," Jim said. He sipped his wine and scribbled a quick sketch in his notebook. "What are you even drawing anyways," I said, reaching for the book. And, as he had a hundred times before, he flipped it closed and drew it from my reach. "I've told you, Werner-san. Once I tell you about the inner workings of our art, you step through door that you cannot go back through." "Don't slap a fucking honorific on my name and put that ridiculous accent on with me, Jim. You said this would be worth it, but it hasn't been. Way things are going, I'd have to ransom his kid to get him to budge." He looked up from his wine. "Ransom his kid, butcher his family dog, sell his wife to a circus?" "I can already see a beach in the Caymans. Perfect cerulean waters, just warm enough to jump in. Sand so white and smooth it might as well be cocaine. That's what's waiting for us." He drained his glass of wine and stalked off. I didn't even think for a second that my joke had been too far, but if I'd lost his attention there was little point in trying to regain it. He was interested in the finer things in life as much as I was, but on his own terms. He reappeared half an hour later. "Coleman's got a silent partner. Jeremiah Rasputinov ben Diangelo. Fake name, originally born as one of the [[[project-proposal-2007-012\|poorer Carnegies.]]] One of those people who's been bouncing from cult to cult their entire life. Joined the Rosicrucians in their 20s, dabbled with the Davidians a few decades later, looking into something called 'Heaven's Gate' now. Somehow got Coleman's ear, despite all that." I poured myself a fifth drink. "So what's the angle?" "You won't have to do any kidnapping." "Damn." He handed me a hideous rubber mask, colored grey, with bulbous and angular eyes, an oversized forehead, and a chin that tapered to a sharp point. It was warm to the touch, though rapidly cooling, and it smelled of sulfur, as fresh rubber tends to. "Ever pretended to be an alien, Reinz?" I have dozens of other stories like that, but no one's all that interested in them. They're pageantry. Bluster. Fun stories for drinking buddies, but not so much when you're "old and respected." As the years went on, the mild fraud of pretending to be an extraterrestrial messenger seemed outright quaint. There was dirty business, dirtier than usual for the Street -- but everyone's more interested in those around me. Because as much as I thought myself the star, I wasn't. Jim's family was mysterious. He rarely spoke of them, and any private investigators I hired would either vanish or cut off the job and return all the money I'd paid them. It's a terrible thing to not be able to trust your business partners, that's something I learned from Goldbaker, but I knew it even then. I wondered often whether Kurosaki might vanish on me, disappear in the blink of an eye, and leave me with nothing but my wits, my connections, and my smile. So I asked him to show me how his technology worked. [[[a-brief-explanation-on-demonics\|The Daemonic circuit,]]] Kurosaki had said, was an innovation that granted Reinz Group a competitive edge above other financial institutions. Exidy and IBM and a little known group Prometheus were all applying this technology, but they simply weren't exploring its potential in the insurance business. There were connections to the tradition of western occult tradition of Goetia, Kurosaki had said, but he viewed that as silly western superstitions. After all, alchemy was the source of modern chemistry all the same, and no one was achieving immortality through that. Daemonic circuits could crunch numbers, analyze data in a way that regular integrated circuits couldn't. They were smarter, more capable, nonlinear. The Astaroth configuration was capable of machine learning and advanced pattern recognition, concepts that wouldn't become common on the Street for decades to come. He was still holding things back, but that was fine with me. It worked for the both of us. We were exactly as visible as we needed to be. ------ On weeks that went well, Jim and I would go back to that club. I got a closer look at some of the dancers, of course, and often I'd wonder just how much effort it took to make their ears look so seamlessly pointed, and just how they kept those gossamer wings so warm. And every damn time, Goldbaker would be there. Just having conversations. Often with different girls, for weeks at a time. And then one day they'd be gone, and he'd just replace them. With some other dancer. Not just any girl, though -- he was selective, though I couldn't tell you how. It was ridiculous. Who throws away a thousand dollars a night for idle conversation? After ten or so visits, I broached the topic with Jim. "So. This 'Goldbaker'," I said. "I see him at the club every time we go." Jim had frozen when the name was uttered. He asked why I gave a damn. "Because he's fucking weird," I said in response. "Who the fuck goes to a goddamn strip joint for conversation? Why do they quit?" "He's recruiting them," Jim said quietly. "He a pimp?" Jim barked a sardonic laugh. Nothing could be further from that case, as it turned out. [[[SCP-6987\|Goldbaker Limited]]], it seemed, was among Reinz Group's competitors -- a private general insurance firm. No specialization, no geographical restrictions, no restrictions on clientele. An opponent with endless reach and deep pockets. I'd raised my eyebrow at that. Why on earth would the Reinz Group be going up against someone like that? We had our core business competencies, and they were narrow yet profitable. And why was their head honcho recruiting exotic dancers personally? Jim Kurosaki, as it turned out, had a hidden agenda, which I'd fully expected from the beginning. There was some ancient family feud between his family and Goldbaker -- not the Goldbaker family, but Goldbaker the individual specifically. Goldbaker's businesses was best in class, ultimately unassailable, yet somehow I'd never heard of them. I'd heard of Lloyd's of London, Allianz, Prudential. Axa Group, China Life, Zurich, MetLife. All of the giants in the insurance space. But Goldbaker Ltd.? Jim was never the type to lie, only to omit. There was a world of hidden giants and titans, and Goldbaker played in that world. A world with power beyond the wildest imagining of most, even CEOs and senators. A world that our use of Daemonics implicitly put us in. Go much further, and we'd be forced to play in that world and that world alone, our core customer base in the mundane world denied to us. A world of shadow governments and a secretive organization called the Foundation. They had a vested interest in keeping the world "normal," and if that meant suppressing technology and keeping the common man down -- well, they'd done it before and they'd do it again, and our windfall would dry up. For a rare time in my life, I wondered if I was in over my head. I took a deep breath. Then I asked him how much money was in it, the secrets of the strippers forgotten. That's what gets us all, isn't it? ------ Sometimes I wonder if I got more reckless after that, selling as much as I could, making grander and grander promises, doing dirtier and dirtier things. Jim had told me that magic was real, and as ridiculous as it was, he'd shown me some parlor trick that I'd found incredibly convincing. I suppose I'd fooled myself into thinking that if you could make a pile of coins disappear you could do the same to a pile of debts. I hated the feeling of being ignorant of the core workings of a business that bore my name. Ironic, now. So I wasn't satisfied just being a bystander as Jim did all the real work, tinkering with the Daemonic circuits and tuning them to the Astaroth and Beleth and GAAP configurations. I wanted to get my hands dirty myself. Jim told me it was dangerous. That this was different from cracking open a ledger and scribbling some equations on a chalkboard. He told me in no uncertain terms that without years of practice in "thaumaturgic arts" that I'd be constantly dancing above the precipice of self annihilation, never sure whether my circuits were safe enough. I didn't care. I was self taught in almost everything else that mattered. I had an MBA and the hubris that comes with one, and everything after that had shown me that experience mattered a thousand times more. Now, Jim was a stubborn man, but I was every bit as stubborn. So every day, after I'd finished a full day's worth of calling up prop trading funds and other small shops on the Street, I'd come back to our office to watch Jim tweak and finagle the Daemonic circuits. I can't understate how much I appreciated what he did for me. In the past few years, I've seen the proliferation of talk about cyberspace, metaverse, AI. You see all the flashy marketing materials from financial advisors trying to take retirees' money, of a cybernetic world made of gaudy special effects and bright lights everywhere. Grid lines of code, spinning blue diagrams, all sorts of stupid things. But real computer engineering is frankly much more mundane than that. Drawing diagrams on pieces of paper, soldering together bits of metal -- it's boring by design. If something's flashing, something's wrong. Something's burning. Similarly, I've sat in on Satanists and Freemason ceremonies, at least the ones they deign to reveal to the public. It's just a bunch of oddballs in robes chanting while high on drugs and breathing in smoke. There are no magical effects, just hallucinations. But when I was working on those Daemonic circuits with Kurosaki in our office... I saw faces appear above the patterns in the circuitboards, horned visages shifting between familiar human features and animalian ones. The background hum of the electronic bastions would sound at times like the blaring of great and terrible trumpets, dissonant and chaotic. Forgive the ramblings of an old man. It was so many years ago, and I was always tired and more than not a tad drunk. I told myself, at that time, I was imagining such things. That's a lie. I thought they were incredible. I understood why Kurosaki was so happy letting me get all the credit, so willing to let me be the public face of his grand design. There was a true and sublime power in tinkering with the universe. I thought I was the one with the power, out there in the streets, brokering deals with the "power players" of Wall Street -- but here, in our office, we were making contracts with the universe itself. That's what I believed Daemons were at the time. A background process of the universe, that you could call up and program. Give it instructions and have it spit back out the info you asked for. Computer science was in its infancy, but even then the term was already around. A computer Daemon is some sort of program, right, that thanklessly does tasks in the background of the computer and then goes away when you don't want anything from it. Fucking idiots we were. ------ We were in the insurance business. We were in the business of contracts, not the business of instructions. We were, I've come to believe, bartering with the forces of Hell in a language we only half understood. We were easily impressed. Flashing lights, ten successful deals in a row, and we stopped troubleshooting. We stopped looking as closely as we should have for bugs or glitches. Because on the outside, it didn't seem like anything at all was wrong. I got my instructions, I pitched ideas to Jim, we played around with Daemonic circuits until they activated and we got a printout of stuff we should do tomorrow for our own prosperity. Sometimes, the explanations were obvious -- dress up like a movie alien to trick a gullible fool into parting with his money. But there were always provisions of the instructions I received that I didn't understand, stuff that if I left out I'd end up taking material losses. In the beginning, I analyzed the instructions just enough that if I squinted, my market intuition would give me some idea of how this would work towards our success. But as one year became two, I stopped questioning them because they'd never led me wrong before. I still don't know exactly whose agenda I ended up enacting, or how exactly I did what I did, or what exactly I'd done. Sometimes I wonder if all the bad things that happened in the city in the following decades were butterflies, rippling out from my actions. The various crashes, the rising crime rates... if I think back on the deals I made, the promises I gave, who I drank with and who I shoved out of moving boats, it's easy to imagine that in retrospect, the sum of all those tiny choices ended up serving some dark grand design. I could see Jim getting more and more erratic, too. He'd questioned the commands I was given more than I had at the start. We'd reversed places -- he'd lost his faith, while I'd gained it. I was willing to... I was... I enjoyed my work. He didn't understand his, not anymore. He begged me to stop. I was too high on my own supply. There's a lot I could have said to him. One day, I went in at 7 A.M., like I always did, and he just looked at me. "It's not that bad," I said. He said his family was starting to take notice. I knew his family was some kind of merchant clan. This was great news! After all, it meant our endeavor was a success, didn't it? It meant his family could finally stick it to Goldbaker! He shook his head. His eyes were sunken, not just from sleep deprivation. We'd tumbled further and further into something we didn't understand, and we'd passed a point of no return. We'd punctured an ancient web of alliances and corporate contracts and Daemonic microdeals, and we'd apparently ruined something incredibly delicate, tipped the balance of power, shaken heaven. The situation called for a blood sacrifice. He said words that I wouldn't understand the significance of for years to come. "They want me to see my grandfather." I was a fool, you know. I thought it was metaphorical. I thought we could talk it through, smooth things over, appease his grandpa, and get back to business a few million dollars in the red. We would make it through it, in the end. I got my predictions from the Daemons, gave Jim a firm pat on the back, and went out for a day of selling. When I got back at 5, my office was on fire. The Daemonic computers were alight, smashed to bits by whatever Jim had on hand. I could smell incense and myrrh and sulfur, and hear donkeys braying, and crows shrieking, and cows mooing. They were in shambles, utterly irrecoverable -- what little I knew of Daemonics wasn't enough to build whole operating systems and hardware from scratch. And even if I did -- Jim had said the metal was exotic material, prometheum or orikalkos or what-have-you -- stuff that I couldn't find in the encyclopedias of the day at all. There was no sign of Jim. I never saw him again. ------ I had nothing at that point. Everything I owned of value, every contract, everything that dictated our wealth and safety was in that office. Who insures the insurers? Usually bigger insurers, that's one of the core businesses of Goldbaker-Reinz, in fact, but obviously this wasn't an option back then and we'd been in too direct competition to make deals with anyone else. Too much ill will. I would have gone to a bar, drank away my sorrows, but I saw men waiting at the street corner, in dark suits and sunglasses, even though it was evening. I was spooked. What can I say. It had been a stressful day. There was incense in my nostrils and my ears were ringing with the echos of unearthly gongs. So I ran. I ran, I ran, and I ran. Ran, seeing enemies lurking in every shadow. Ran, until I ended up in a luxury apartment. Ran out the back door. Ran, until I was in that strip joint again. Slick with my own sweat, red in the face, heart practically palpitating. And there he fucking was. They. They fucking were. Goldbaker. Once again with a girl on each knee doing that fucking weird gentle patronage thing. They saw me. "Ladies," they said. "Tatiana, Jane. Please, excuse me." Goldbaker practically slid over to me. "Werner Reinz," they said. "I told you I'd be seeing you again." "I don't have time for your bullshit right now, man!" I said. Truth to be told, I had nothing and nowhere to turn. Goldbaker eyed me, neither warmly nor calculating. "Walk with me," they said. I followed like a beaten dog. They walked deftly past the bar, towards the far door. "Wait, we're not--" I said reflexively. That second door had been forbidden to me. "You are with me," Goldbaker said. "That makes all the difference. And it would be good, I think, to have this conversation in the open air." I followed them out the door, expecting to come out on some balcony or ledge. Then I stopped, blinking. I swayed on my feet. We were, against all logic, on an entire city street, despite having taken two elevators to come up here. There were no side streets and no alleyways, but the street itself was dotted with newsstands or other such posts. The buildings on the sides of the street were no taller than five or so storeys, but there were so many of them, and of so many styles. As if a building from every neighborhood in Manhattan had been torn apart and stitched together in a patchwork. The street itself was clear, but not like glass -- more like rippling water or a distant heat haze. And far, far below us, I could see the island of Manhattan, bright with lights. I could see where Battery Park and the Financial District met the water, the lights giving way to darkness. "Where are we," I said, my voice soft. "Atop the Wall," Goldbaker said. "That's what they call it these days. A hidden financial district. Useful for those who trade in commodities that can't be listed in front of the Veil, those who aren't quite human, or those who just don't want to pay full rent." They chuckled. I didn't understand until much later. An ancient city, like Rome or Beijing or Jerusalem or London, has had time to crystallize, to become set and woven. Each of these cities has had booms and busts of Occult activity, each hollowing out bubbles of mystic or paranormal liminal space, every secret society stealing for themselves a Sanctum. Yet in the long course of millennia these spaces have faded, the secret societies that formed them long having ceased; or these once-secluded hermitages have merged and become one, the walls of fraternal factionalism giving way to communal wellsprings for parochial or national or imperial myth. New York is different. New York is young. A patchwork city, like many in the Americas, yet also the first port of call for every ambitious people. When de Waalstraat fell, its ghost remained, a border between the civilized Dutch and the barbarous privateers of the British. That impression, too, is long faded. In the modern world Wall Street is no barrier but instead a pulsing artery. The Wall towers over the little people of the City. Here is a center for parafinance, trades in shares of companies that only operate behind the Veil, commodities markets for proliferated anomalous materials, the second largest demonic derivatives market in the United States behind Undervegas. There are other places in New York hidden to the world. Backdoor Soho is a famous one that I've had the pleasure to visit. And everyone who knows anything would laugh in your face if you suggested that Backdoor Soho and Atop The Wall could be treated as part of one single magical place. Backdoor Soho is an artists' commune. But when you stand Atop The Wall, you stand atop a boardwalk of glass, a transparent floor that reveals the bustling city down below. Every institution and trade shop has a building along this boardwalk on the sides, so that you cannot possibly reach the edge by foot, and each building looks slightly different. There are buildings that reach as far back as the first Dutch colonization in the Americas, buildings that imitate Greco-Roman architectural styles through American eyes, and buildings that appear as mirrored silver. Yet each of them shares the purpose of chasing greed in occlusion. "Jim Kurosaki was a scion of the Darke family," Goldbaker said. "Rather on the nose, that surname. An ancient clan of merchants, traders, thieves." "Jim's--" "Icarian, ultimately. Flying too close to the sun and getting burned by the flame," Goldbaker said. "He's my friend," I said. "What the fuck do you want? This is the worst day of my life, and I didn't come here to get lectured by some old pervert." "You and I," Goldbaker said, "are in insurance. The business of buying risk. Marshall, Carter, and Dark are an auction house. They could be said to be in the business of selling it. Caveat emptor. Buy a product from Kurosaki's family business, and your customer service will consist solely of cleanup, should you die." Goldbaker //knew//. Goldbaker knew about the Daemons, had prepared for this contingency. Had perhaps seen everything up to this point. "You're smart, Werner," Goldbaker said. "Shrewd. A good salesman. You simply suffered from the most tragic of human flaws -- knowledge without wisdom." They had some nerve. I looked down through the transparent floor of Atop the Wall. From up here, the lights blurred against wispy clouds far below. I imagined I could see my office burning. "What do you want with me?" "It is not a matter of what I want," Goldbaker said, "but how we can help each other." I snorted. It was difficult to believe. I had nothing to offer. I'd thought I was delving into forbidden lore, all those nights tinkering with Daemonics, when clearly I'd been a fucking idiot. "You have contacts and contracts, Werner," Goldbaker said. "I've watched the growth of your business. The Daemons might have told you where to go, but you were the one with the magic touch to sell it all. They needed you every bit as much as you needed their guidance. The unwitting hand of hell." "So I'm a fucking rube, is that it?" "I foresaw our meeting up here. I foresaw Jim Kurosaki would burn his computing machines. I foresaw that you would listen to the instructions of Daemons. But here, I can only guess what you do next." A brief intrusive thought. I could attack him, bash his head against the glass floor, see if I could shatter it and send us both tumbling to our dooms. "There is a world where all the contracts you have made go into default, with the catastrophic collapse of Reinz Group. Your clients realize that they took on risks based on protection they no longer have, which they now must unwind. They do so, and the markets shake. The world grows more dangerous, less safe, poorer. Not all at once, and not too far, but worse nonetheless." It sounded kind of crummy. I didn't realize it then, of course, but it would have played into the Daemons' plan, if they had one. Frankly, I think back then I still considered myself a good person, despite the blood on my hands. I thought I cared about humanity enough that I wouldn't want to cost it a decade or so of economic development. You get a distance from the impact of your choices when you work in our business. It's just moving numbers around on a ledger or wires around a circuit board, after all. It's abstract and meaningless. Until it's not. "There is another world in which my organization, Goldbaker, assumes your obligations, and all of that is avoided," Goldbaker said. "What's your price?" "I thought it would be obvious. You come work with me." "So that's why you're here," I said, gesturing at the strip club, which was really quite subdued from this side, with a pseudo-Assyrian design. "Recruiting." They almost looked hurt at my sarcasm. "Do you know what a leading indicator is?" "Of course I do." "They're enterprising young women who have fully come to terms with how dirty the transfer of money can be," they said. "And some are rather brilliant as well. I would be a fool to ignore such a deep well of talent. And, crucially, they are at the forefront of one of the first luxuries wealthy businessmen abandon. In those downturns, I am more than happy to provide employment." I sat down, crossed my legs, kept my eyes on the glass. The first rays of sunrise were touching the city below, coloring it pale rose. "They'll keep coming for me," I said. "Kurosaki's family. The Darks. I messed things up for them, somehow." "You did a very fine job of that," Goldbaker said. "I find it difficult to act against Percival Darke directly, as he does against me." "They won't stop until I'm dead." "They'll try," Goldbaker said. "And they'll fail. This, I can guarantee." And I believed it, I really did. That was why the Darks had sent Kurosaki out on his own in the first place, to try and break into the insurance industry, to weaken Goldbaker instead of pulling a direct assault. It had been my hubris, my folly, that had ended up hurting them instead. I understood why they wanted me dead. "I don't have a choice at all, do I?" "You do," Goldbaker said. "But I believe you, Werner Reinz, are two things. A good man, or at least you once were -- and only human." Of course I said yes. Because they were right. I wanted to live. My life changed. From that day forth, I had to live with an integrity I hadn't before. Goldbaker hated deception, while I had been a creature of it. One of the first things I did once I'd gotten integrated into Goldbaker's machine was analyze a set of our policies, looked at the probabilities of gain and loss myself from all historical data. Do you know what I found? It was fair, in the financial sense. The expected value of our position was 0. In an ideal world, in the long run we would neither gain nor lose money on the sum total of those policies. I brought this to them, [[[a-day-in-the-balance\|told them this was no way to run a business,]]] that we'd be run out of town by the end of the decade. But they put their foot down. They absolutely refused to let me gouge the prices, said this was essential, that we had more than enough to keep the lights on and the customers would get what they paid for -- and nothing more. And for the decade after that, I waited for our inevitable collapse. Wondered if one day Goldbaker's protection would fail, and I would be chased through the streets of New York by shadowy figures without faces. But that day never came, still hasn't come. I don't understand why it hasn't, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not now. My life has been long and comfortable and everything I always wished for, in a way. I peered behind the curtain and rubbed shoulders with the true fulcrums of power and did some good in this world. But after a certain point, it was no longer exciting. [[include <a href="/more-by:lordxvnv">more-by:lordxvnv</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=LORDXVNV]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-20T23:05:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "adventure", "corporate", "crime-fiction", "fantasy", "first-person", "goldbaker-reinz", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "mythological", "period-piece", "prize-feature", "science-fiction", "tale" ]	Taking The Reinz - SCP Foundation	84	[ "project-proposal-2007-012", "a-brief-explanation-on-demonics", "scp-6987", "a-day-in-the-balance", "lordxvnv", "scp-8008", "scp-7069", "scp-7997", "scp-6572", "scp-6433", "scp-1337-ex", "scp-7715", "scp-7335", "scp-6248", "scp-7576", "scp-1392", "scp-7634", "scp-6510", "scp-7272", "scp-8814", "top-5-colleges", "requiem-for-ice-spider", "cck-class-copyright-infringement-lawsuit-scenario", "a-faerie-tale-of-twin-queens", "mountainous-essophysics", "insurance", "ecce-insurgo", "garfield-timeline", "unreal-sushi", "muddy-skies", "life-can-be-a-surprise", "miau-miau-asheworth-kun", "man-on-a-mission", "the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica", "capslock-collusion", "teamwork", "the-phlegmfont", "the-arcana-institute-of-xerophylla", "we-live-in-a-society", "cheesus", "the-road-to-arcana", "three-lessons-for-endless-night", "but-never-trees", "names-stricken", "ghost-signal", "thereven-germination", "deusvolt", "spc-6500", "spc-1981", "spc-105", "spc-179", "spc-1258", "hist-327-comparative-mythology-of-mekhanism-and-naelkae", "kte-6990-mendel-nimuebusterchild", "milkssiah", "a-wandsman-in-a-vegas-cathouse", "1-staar-cuttt-2-5", "a-wandsman-in-the-greaze-lands-of-kansas", "spc-166", "spc-1548", "spc-cn-985", "goldbaker-reinz-hub", "april-fools-hub", "qui-lactis", "scp-6301", "scp-6447", "scp-6483", "scp-6542", "scp-6596", "scp-6760", "a-nightmare-dreary", "the-bathrooms-wiki", "spc-hub", "holiday-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-7-tales-edition", "qui-lactis", "goldbaker-reinz-hub", "featured-tale-archive-ii" ]	[]	1449098916	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/taking-the-reinz
tampa-days-miami-nights	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center"> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Calistoga'; font-size: 500%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"> <p>Soho Chronicle-Press</p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Mr Dafoe'; font-size: 300%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"> <p>Scrutinize, Compose, Publish</p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: serif; font-size: 125%; border-top-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid;"> <table style="border: none; width: 100%;"> <tr> <td>BACKDOOR SOHO</td> <td style="text-align: center;">SUNDAY, 23 OCTOBER, 2033</td> <td style="text-align: right;">FREE (FOR LOCALS)</td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center"> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Bebas Neue'; font-size: 550%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"> <p>Tampa Days, Miami Nights</p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Bebas Neue'; font-size: 400%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"> <p>The First World Series of Based Ball</p> </div> <div class="unmargined" style="font-family:serif; font-size:120%;"> <p><em>Sports Correspondent (Unofficial) Sofia Haugen</em></p> </div> </div> <p>Long-time readers of this column (or short-time readers, I guess, it's only been like six months) will know that I have been thoroughly won over by the latest sports entertainment innovation from the ascended machine consciousness formerly known as Vince McMahon: Based Ball, the sport that is to baseball what the XFL was to the NFL, cooler, edgier, more scantily-clad, probably only going to last like four or five years but by god they'll be good ones. The first season is over, as is the first postseason, which is still part of the season, and it was your humble sports correspondent's honor to make the trip all the way down from her shitty Jackson Heights studio apartment<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> to the great state of Florida to see the grand final, the very first Based Ball World Series.</p> <p>The two teams in the BBWS this year are the Tampa Beys, a team owned and mascotted by His Imperial Highness Şehzade Nazım Ziyaeddin Nazım Osmanoğlu, Imperial Prince of the Ottoman Empire<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup>, and the Miami Martians, all of whom are from Earth and one of whom is a dog. Like, one of the players, not a mascot. His name is Babe Woof<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup>. The Beys have a slightly better record going into the series, but most of that can be put down to Babe Woof's long absence during the back half of the regular season—he was out for two and a half months due to complications from heartworm. He's all better now, though, and his return to the field helped the Martians sail through the postseason without losing a single game.</p> <p>The series started at Outback Steakhouse Field in St. Petersburg, and moved to Greazeburger Park in Miami for games 3, 4, and 5. The first two games were pretty boring, or so I am told. I spent most of the first game in a Bloomin' Onion-induced food coma and almost got kicked out of the press box for snoring too loud; I actually DID get kicked out in the 3rd inning of game two, for reasons my lawyer says I shouldn't talk about until after the trial<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup>, and had to finish watching the game from a TGI Friday's. God damn do I love mozzarella sticks. Anyway, the Beys won both their home games<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup>, leaving the Martians at a serious disadvantage as we migrated down the shaft to Florida's foreskin, Miami.</p> <p>Greazeburger Park is, if you'll excuse the tangent (and it's not like you can stop me), probably the strangest stadium in America. Weirder than Three Portlands' Alliot Chao Memorial Roller Derby Arena (She's Not Dead We Just Miss Her), which <a href="/suspect-ratio">exploded this one time</a> but then mostly put itself back together in a sort of superposition of exploded and non-exploded; weirder than the Grand <em>Tlachtli</em> beneath Denver International Airport, where the Secret World Government force captured mole-men to play <em>ōllamalīztli</em>, the ancient Aztec ball-game, with ritual sacrifice of the losing team on the line; weirder, even, than Fenway Park, which is just all kinds of fucked up. I don't even want to go into it. Fuckin' Boston, dude. No, Greazeburger Park is the strangest of all, because its corporate sponsor is just the worst.</p> <p>I hate Greazeburger Incorporated, and if you had ever been to this goddamn baseball stadium you would too. First of all, in between innings, all the speakers in the park—yes, all of them, including (for example) the ones in my phone or my headphones or my fucking GameBoy—play this awful tuneless jingle on a loop, "you can't spell Greaze without EZ!" It's still stuck in my head and I think it will be until I die, another curse for the curse jar<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup>. The food is somehow worse than the ambience: not only were there no burgers to be found (like, what the fuck?) but the <a href="/scp-6151">hotdogs</a> had some shit in them that gave me the most boring time-dilation trip I've ever experienced, and the fries tasted like feet<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-7" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-7')">7</a></sup>. And the seats were always a little warm like someone had just gotten up from them, and the press box was like, suspended from the rafters over midfield with a glass floor, and the toilet seats were all weirdly large or small, and it was generally just an unpleasant and vaguely discomfiting experience. The uncanny valley of sports stadia.</p> <p>The one bright spot about Greazeburger Park<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-8" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-8')">8</a></sup> was the cashier who sold me the aforementioned hot dogs. Her name was Katie, she <a href="/9-to-5">hated her job</a>, and when I half-heartedly flirted with her while slathering my meat-stick in honey mustard<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-9" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-9')">9</a></sup> she gave me this deer-in-the-headlights stare that I found unfortunately endearing<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-10" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-10')">10</a></sup>. So I popped open another button of my classic vintage Tommy Bahama, got way up in her personal space, and put the moves on. Mainly by eating a hot dog erotically, which is pretty hard to do normally, let alone when the hot dog forces you to listen to some fuckin' Greazeburger corpo lecture about post-euclidean inventory management for a decade, but I managed it, I have skills.</p> <p>It didn't work at first. Came on too strong maybe. But I am nothing if not persistent, and it only took two days and seven subjective centuries' worth of hot dogs for Katie to finally give in to my not inconsiderable charms<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-11" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-11')">11</a></sup> and let me suck her off in the broom closet during her lunch break. Had to throw out the jeans I was wearing because of the greaze<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-12" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-12')">12</a></sup> stains on my knees, but it was worth it. Not the first time I've ruined my clothes while giving head<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-13')">13</a></sup>, and I can assure you it won't be the last. Unfortunately Katie had to get back to work before she could return the favor (and also she was like kind of coated in greaze at the time and I don't really wanna know what that does in a vagina, especially not mine) but we met up after her shift and I took her back to my shitty motel room which was, apparently, nicer than her even shittier apartment. I understand, we've all been there.</p> <p>We are going to fade to black there, because my editor has informed me that I can't just write smut about myself and have the Chronicle-Press publish it<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-14" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-14')">14</a></sup>, but I had a good time and I assume Katie did too. I gave her a ride to the stadium the next day but her manager got pissed at her when he saw me in the back of the hot dog stand, so I had to actually watch the game instead of [REDACTED]<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-15" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-15')">15</a></sup>. It was an OK game. Not really any suspense though, the Martians scored 7 runs off a multiball<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-16" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-16')">16</a></sup> in the 3rd inning and the Beys couldn't pull back from that. The game ended with the Martians up 10-5.</p> <p>Katie came back to my motel room again after her shift, but we didn't fuck. Not even a little heavy petting. I guess she was more into me than I was into her (which I'm used to being on the other side of, it was kinda nice having the roles reversed on me if I'm being honest) and she didn't take it so well when I let her know I would be heading back to Tampa in the morning, and thence to New York once the series was over. I like offered her my couch if she wanted to get the fuck out of Florida because she really seemed to hate her job but apparently she couldn't leave it for "reasons she couldn't disclose", and the last time a girl told me she had undisclosed reasons for not moving in with me it turned out that she was secretly married and an undercover cop and also had been dead the whole time<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-17" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-17')">17</a></sup>, so I decided not to push.</p> <p>So because of all that nonsense, I just held Katie while she cried for a while, and then we drifted off to sleep. She was gone by the time I woke up. Because I woke up at 11 AM, and by that point her shift had already started<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-18" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-18')">18</a></sup>. I checked out and headed off to Tampa after sending her one of my traditional morning after texts<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-19" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-19')">19</a></sup> only to realize once I got there that I was still super banned from the stadium on account of my alleged misdeeds during game 2 and could totally have hung out in Miami some more since I was only gonna be watching the damn thing on TV anyway. So it goes. I went back to my TGI Friday's but there was a different manager working that day and she refused to turn any of the channels to Based Ball so I watched the Colts play the Browns in a forgettable regular season football game instead. Colts won 23-10<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-20" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-20')">20</a></sup>.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Footnotes</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">– hide block</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. Yes, I moved to Queens, the Backdoor got too fuckin' expensive, gentrification affects even Pulitzer Prize-winning sportswriters. But hey: no roommates! Now the only people I ever have to talk to are my editor and the night shift guy at the bodega where I buy my smokes.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. He goes by Naz, real funny guy, he was on Horrible Histories once, although he played Napoleon rather than like Suleiman the Magnificent which I think is kind of a waste.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. I love this sport.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Joke's on him though, footnotes aren't admissible in evidence, so I can tell you that I cursed out the reporter from the Washington Post so badly (so well?) that he couldn't stop crying and had to be sedated. But he talked shit about Björk. Can't just let people get away with that.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. Game 1 was 6-5 in extra innings, game 2 was 7-4 thanks to a walk-off grand slam in the bottom of the 9th by Tampa catcher <a href="https://lossuelos.com/sports-page" target="_blank">Manuel "Manatee" Hernandez</a>. It was a beautiful hit—everyone in TGI Friday's went apeshit. The manager was so excited he comped my mozzarella sticks. Nothing tastes better than free mozzarella sticks.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. It's me. I am the curse jar. And I am overflowing.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-7"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-7')">7</a>. And not in a sexy way (not that I have a foot fetish but sometimes you gotta suck some toes, you feel me?).</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-8"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-8')">8</a>. And because I know some of you skim these fucking things until you can find the hot goss about Sofia's latest self-destructive romance, here it is, you can start actually reading now, CHRISTINE.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-9"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-9')">9</a>. Not that they had any there, I brought it with me from home. The only condiments at Greazeburger Park are greaze-based. And I do not want to find out what honey greazustard tastes like.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-10"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-10')">10</a>. I learned later that the stare was because I reminded her of a regular that she hated. Something about the aloha shirt and the sunglasses. But I don't have any fungal growths most days and my skin hardly sloughs off my bones at all, so that's a point to Sofia B-)</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-11"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-11')">11</a>. Eagle-eyed readers will note that these were days during which I was not watching much Based Ball, and so once more I can only report the final scores of games 3 and 4. Both went to the Martians, 5-3 and 6-5 respectively. For a play-by-play please consult the sports pages of other newspapers whose correspondents have never won a goddamn Pulitzer.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-12"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-12')">12</a>. I realize that I've just been throwing the word "greaze" around like you'll know what it is, but it's so central to Greazeburger's whole deal that I forgot most people have never even heard of them. Greaze, basically, is like grease but more so: slimier, slipperier, grosser, and just generally worse. It's everywhere in that fucking stadium and I hate it.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-13"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-13')">13</a>. June 15th, 2014, <a href="/australian-rules">Kylie Huber's</a> garage, her mom walked in and I got startled and knocked a whole bottle of motor oil off a shelf and it burst open and splattered all over me. Kylie's mom was very understanding, shoutout to April, thanks for pretending that never happened it was very embarrassing for 18 year old me.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-14"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-14')">14</a>. It's up on my blog, don't worry. I know you freaks are really here for my erotic autofiction.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-15"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-15')">15</a>. I'm redacting this shit myself because my editor kept sending it back to me with the same damn note about smut. Personally, I don't think the phrase "choking on girlcock" was excessively pornographic, nor were the (artistic!) descriptions of the tastes, textures and smells of that experience, but I guess that's why SUSAN gets paid the BIG BUCKS while I have to live in QUEENS like I'm PETER FUCKING PARKER. I would never be a photojournalist. Or a superhero. I consider them equally loathsome.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-16"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-16')">16</a>. For a full overview of the game of Based Ball and the ways it diverges from baseball, please see my article from May, "Based On What: The New Sport That Has My Panties Saturated", or like, google it, or bing it, or duckduckgo it, or kahonk it, or whatever hip new search engine the kids are using these days.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-17"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-17')">17</a>. This was when I was living in Rio for nine months covering the underground anything-goes-including-magic MMA scene (see my series of articles in <em>Parasports Illustrated</em> from May 2027 to January 2028, or the "brazil" tag on my blog starting with "How To Con Your Editor Into Giving you A Tropical Vacation"). More vampires than you would expect in Brazil so it's not like she was the only dead girl I slept with down there but Alessandra was dead in like a ghost way, which you'd think I would notice, but I've never been particularly observant. Maybe not the best trait for a reporter. C'est la vie.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-18"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-18')">18</a>. Katie if you're reading this sorry for making you take the bus to work I really should've woken up in time to drive you that's my bad</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-19"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-19')">19</a>. "hey last night was fun! hmu if ur ever up in ny and we can hang out!"—in retrospect I should have changed that first sentence but it's a shortcut in my phone and I was worried I would be late to the game so I wasn't thinking clearly.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-20"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-20')">20</a>. <em>Editor's Note: Sofia decided to end her article here, and refused to add the actual Based Ball results because they would "compromise [her] artistic vision". I have decided to overrule her. The Martians won the game, and the series, with a 5-0 shutout, mostly thanks to Babe Woof's incredible outfielding. Never knew a dog could throw that far.</em></div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>This was originally written for <a href="/romcon">RomCon</a>. Katie Theta was created by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;"><img alt="Prismal" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8779219&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188715" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8779219)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/prismal" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8779219); return false;">Prismal</a></span>, whose take on this romance can be found <a href="/capitalism-a-love-story">here</a>.</em></p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/tampa-days-miami-nights">Tampa Days, Miami Nights</a>" by ch00bakka, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tampa-days-miami-nights">https://scpwiki.com/tampa-days-miami-nights</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Mr+Dafoe&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Calistoga&display=swap'); /* The Mr Dafoe font was created by Sudtipos and is licensed under the Open Font License The Calistoga font was created by Yvonne Schuttler and Eben Sorkin and is licensed under the Open Font License / @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Bebas+Neue&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Graduate&display=swap'); #page-title { display: none; }; / The Bebas Neue font was created by Ryoichi Tsunekawa and is licensed under the Open Font License The Graduate font was created by Eduardo Tunni and is licensed under the Open Font License / [[/module]] [[div style="text-align: center"]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Calistoga'; font-size: 500%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"]] Soho Chronicle-Press [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Mr Dafoe'; font-size: 300%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"]] Scrutinize, Compose, Publish [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: serif; font-size: 125%; border-top-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid;"]] [[table style="border: none; width: 100%;"]] [[row]] [[cell]] BACKDOOR SOHO [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: center;"]] SUNDAY, 23 OCTOBER, 2033 [[/cell]] [[cell style="text-align: right;"]] FREE (FOR LOCALS) [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div style="text-align: center"]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Bebas Neue'; font-size: 550%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"]] Tampa Days, Miami Nights [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family: 'Bebas Neue'; font-size: 400%; margin: 2px 0 5px;"]] The First World Series of Based Ball [[/div]] [[div class="unmargined" style="font-family:serif; font-size:120%;"]] //Sports Correspondent (Unofficial) Sofia Haugen// [[/div]] [[/div]] Long-time readers of this column (or short-time readers, I guess, it's only been like six months) will know that I have been thoroughly won over by the latest sports entertainment innovation from the ascended machine consciousness formerly known as Vince McMahon: Based Ball, the sport that is to baseball what the XFL was to the NFL, cooler, edgier, more scantily-clad, probably only going to last like four or five years but by god they'll be good ones. The first season is over, as is the first postseason, which is still part of the season, and it was your humble sports correspondent's honor to make the trip all the way down from her shitty Jackson Heights studio apartment[[footnote]] Yes, I moved to Queens, the Backdoor got too fuckin' expensive, gentrification affects even Pulitzer Prize-winning sportswriters. But hey: no roommates! Now the only people I ever have to talk to are my editor and the night shift guy at the bodega where I buy my smokes. [[/footnote]] to the great state of Florida to see the grand final, the very first Based Ball World Series. The two teams in the BBWS this year are the Tampa Beys, a team owned and mascotted by His Imperial Highness Şehzade Nazım Ziyaeddin Nazım Osmanoğlu, Imperial Prince of the Ottoman Empire [[footnote]] He goes by Naz, real funny guy, he was on Horrible Histories once, although he played Napoleon rather than like Suleiman the Magnificent which I think is kind of a waste. [[/footnote]], and the Miami Martians, all of whom are from Earth and one of whom is a dog. Like, one of the players, not a mascot. His name is Babe Woof[[footnote]] I love this sport. [[/footnote]]. The Beys have a slightly better record going into the series, but most of that can be put down to Babe Woof's long absence during the back half of the regular season—he was out for two and a half months due to complications from heartworm. He's all better now, though, and his return to the field helped the Martians sail through the postseason without losing a single game. The series started at Outback Steakhouse Field in St. Petersburg, and moved to Greazeburger Park in Miami for games 3, 4, and 5. The first two games were pretty boring, or so I am told. I spent most of the first game in a Bloomin' Onion-induced food coma and almost got kicked out of the press box for snoring too loud; I actually DID get kicked out in the 3rd inning of game two, for reasons my lawyer says I shouldn't talk about until after the trial[[footnote]] Joke's on him though, footnotes aren't admissible in evidence, so I can tell you that I cursed out the reporter from the Washington Post so badly (so well?) that he couldn't stop crying and had to be sedated. But he talked shit about Björk. Can't just let people get away with that. [[/footnote]], and had to finish watching the game from a TGI Friday's. God damn do I love mozzarella sticks. Anyway, the Beys won both their home games[[footnote]] Game 1 was 6-5 in extra innings, game 2 was 7-4 thanks to a walk-off grand slam in the bottom of the 9th by Tampa catcher [https://lossuelos.com/sports-page Manuel "Manatee" Hernandez]. It was a beautiful hit—everyone in TGI Friday's went apeshit. The manager was so excited he comped my mozzarella sticks. Nothing tastes better than free mozzarella sticks. [[/footnote]], leaving the Martians at a serious disadvantage as we migrated down the shaft to Florida's foreskin, Miami. Greazeburger Park is, if you'll excuse the tangent (and it's not like you can stop me), probably the strangest stadium in America. Weirder than Three Portlands' Alliot Chao Memorial Roller Derby Arena (She's Not Dead We Just Miss Her), which [[[suspect-ratio\|exploded this one time]]] but then mostly put itself back together in a sort of superposition of exploded and non-exploded; weirder than the Grand //Tlachtli// beneath Denver International Airport, where the Secret World Government force captured mole-men to play //ōllamalīztli//, the ancient Aztec ball-game, with ritual sacrifice of the losing team on the line; weirder, even, than Fenway Park, which is just all kinds of fucked up. I don't even want to go into it. Fuckin' Boston, dude. No, Greazeburger Park is the strangest of all, because its corporate sponsor is just the worst. I hate Greazeburger Incorporated, and if you had ever been to this goddamn baseball stadium you would too. First of all, in between innings, all the speakers in the park—yes, all of them, including (for example) the ones in my phone or my headphones or my fucking GameBoy—play this awful tuneless jingle on a loop, "you can't spell Greaze without EZ!" It's still stuck in my head and I think it will be until I die, another curse for the curse jar[[footnote]] It's me. I am the curse jar. And I am overflowing. [[/footnote]]. The food is somehow worse than the ambience: not only were there no burgers to be found (like, what the fuck?) but the [[[scp-6151\|hotdogs]]] had some shit in them that gave me the most boring time-dilation trip I've ever experienced, and the fries tasted like feet[[footnote]] And not in a sexy way (not that I have a foot fetish but sometimes you gotta suck some toes, you feel me?). [[/footnote]]. And the seats were always a little warm like someone had just gotten up from them, and the press box was like, suspended from the rafters over midfield with a glass floor, and the toilet seats were all weirdly large or small, and it was generally just an unpleasant and vaguely discomfiting experience. The uncanny valley of sports stadia. The one bright spot about Greazeburger Park[[footnote]] And because I know some of you skim these fucking things until you can find the hot goss about Sofia's latest self-destructive romance, here it is, you can start actually reading now, CHRISTINE. [[/footnote]] was the cashier who sold me the aforementioned hot dogs. Her name was Katie, she [[[9 to 5\|hated her job]]], and when I half-heartedly flirted with her while slathering my meat-stick in honey mustard[[footnote]] Not that they had any there, I brought it with me from home. The only condiments at Greazeburger Park are greaze-based. And I do not want to find out what honey greazustard tastes like. [[/footnote]] she gave me this deer-in-the-headlights stare that I found unfortunately endearing[[footnote]]I learned later that the stare was because I reminded her of a regular that she hated. Something about the aloha shirt and the sunglasses. But I don't have any fungal growths most days and my skin hardly sloughs off my bones at all, so that's a point to Sofia B-) [[/footnote]]. So I popped open another button of my classic vintage Tommy Bahama, got way up in her personal space, and put the moves on. Mainly by eating a hot dog erotically, which is pretty hard to do normally, let alone when the hot dog forces you to listen to some fuckin' Greazeburger corpo lecture about post-euclidean inventory management for a decade, but I managed it, I have skills. It didn't work at first. Came on too strong maybe. But I am nothing if not persistent, and it only took two days and seven subjective centuries' worth of hot dogs for Katie to finally give in to my not inconsiderable charms[[footnote]]Eagle-eyed readers will note that these were days during which I was not watching much Based Ball, and so once more I can only report the final scores of games 3 and 4. Both went to the Martians, 5-3 and 6-5 respectively. For a play-by-play please consult the sports pages of other newspapers whose correspondents have never won a goddamn Pulitzer.[[/footnote]] and let me suck her off in the broom closet during her lunch break. Had to throw out the jeans I was wearing because of the greaze[[footnote]] I realize that I've just been throwing the word "greaze" around like you'll know what it is, but it's so central to Greazeburger's whole deal that I forgot most people have never even heard of them. Greaze, basically, is like grease but more so: slimier, slipperier, grosser, and just generally worse. It's everywhere in that fucking stadium and I hate it. [[/footnote]] stains on my knees, but it was worth it. Not the first time I've ruined my clothes while giving head[[footnote]] June 15th, 2014, [[[australian-rules\|Kylie Huber's]]] garage, her mom walked in and I got startled and knocked a whole bottle of motor oil off a shelf and it burst open and splattered all over me. Kylie's mom was very understanding, shoutout to April, thanks for pretending that never happened it was very embarrassing for 18 year old me. [[/footnote]], and I can assure you it won't be the last. Unfortunately Katie had to get back to work before she could return the favor (and also she was like kind of coated in greaze at the time and I don't really wanna know what that does in a vagina, especially not mine) but we met up after her shift and I took her back to my shitty motel room which was, apparently, nicer than her even shittier apartment. I understand, we've all been there. We are going to fade to black there, because my editor has informed me that I can't just write smut about myself and have the Chronicle-Press publish it[[footnote]] It's up on my blog, don't worry. I know you freaks are really here for my erotic autofiction. [[/footnote]], but I had a good time and I assume Katie did too. I gave her a ride to the stadium the next day but her manager got pissed at her when he saw me in the back of the hot dog stand, so I had to actually watch the game instead of [REDACTED][[footnote]] I'm redacting this shit myself because my editor kept sending it back to me with the same damn note about smut. Personally, I don't think the phrase "choking on girlcock" was excessively pornographic, nor were the (artistic!) descriptions of the tastes, textures and smells of that experience, but I guess that's why SUSAN gets paid the BIG BUCKS while I have to live in QUEENS like I'm PETER FUCKING PARKER. I would never be a photojournalist. Or a superhero. I consider them equally loathsome. [[/footnote]]. It was an OK game. Not really any suspense though, the Martians scored 7 runs off a multiball[[footnote]] For a full overview of the game of Based Ball and the ways it diverges from baseball, please see my article from May, "Based On What: The New Sport That Has My Panties Saturated", or like, google it, or bing it, or duckduckgo it, or kahonk it, or whatever hip new search engine the kids are using these days. [[/footnote]] in the 3rd inning and the Beys couldn't pull back from that. The game ended with the Martians up 10-5. Katie came back to my motel room again after her shift, but we didn't fuck. Not even a little heavy petting. I guess she was more into me than I was into her (which I'm used to being on the other side of, it was kinda nice having the roles reversed on me if I'm being honest) and she didn't take it so well when I let her know I would be heading back to Tampa in the morning, and thence to New York once the series was over. I like offered her my couch if she wanted to get the fuck out of Florida because she really seemed to hate her job but apparently she couldn't leave it for "reasons she couldn't disclose", and the last time a girl told me she had undisclosed reasons for not moving in with me it turned out that she was secretly married and an undercover cop and also had been dead the whole time[[footnote]] This was when I was living in Rio for nine months covering the underground anything-goes-including-magic MMA scene (see my series of articles in //Parasports Illustrated// from May 2027 to January 2028, or the "brazil" tag on my blog starting with "How To Con Your Editor Into Giving you A Tropical Vacation"). More vampires than you would expect in Brazil so it's not like she was the only dead girl I slept with down there but Alessandra was dead in like a ghost way, which you'd think I would notice, but I've never been particularly observant. Maybe not the best trait for a reporter. C'est la vie. [[/footnote]], so I decided not to push. So because of all that nonsense, I just held Katie while she cried for a while, and then we drifted off to sleep. She was gone by the time I woke up. Because I woke up at 11 AM, and by that point her shift had already started[[footnote]] Katie if you're reading this sorry for making you take the bus to work I really should've woken up in time to drive you that's my bad [[/footnote]]. I checked out and headed off to Tampa after sending her one of my traditional morning after texts[[footnote]] "hey last night was fun! hmu if ur ever up in ny and we can hang out!"—in retrospect I should have changed that first sentence but it's a shortcut in my phone and I was worried I would be late to the game so I wasn't thinking clearly.[[/footnote]] only to realize once I got there that I was still super banned from the stadium on account of my alleged misdeeds during game 2 and could totally have hung out in Miami some more since I was only gonna be watching the damn thing on TV anyway. So it goes. I went back to my TGI Friday's but there was a different manager working that day and she refused to turn any of the channels to Based Ball so I watched the Colts play the Browns in a forgettable regular season football game instead. Colts won 23-10[[footnote]] //Editor's Note: Sofia decided to end her article here, and refused to add the actual Based Ball results because they would "compromise [her] artistic vision". I have decided to overrule her. The Martians won the game, and the series, with a 5-0 shutout, mostly thanks to Babe Woof's incredible outfielding. Never knew a dog could throw that far.// [[/footnote]]. ------ [[=]] [[collapsible show ="Footnotes"]] [[<]] [[footnoteblock]] [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] = //This was originally written for [[[RomCon]]]. Katie Theta was created by [[*user Prismal]], whose take on this romance can be found [[[Capitalism a love story\|here]]].// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=ch00bakka]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-25T21:19:00	[ "_licensebox", "backdoor-soho", "comedy", "first-person", "greazeburger", "lgbtq", "romance", "romcon2023-unofficial", "tale" ]	Tampa Days, Miami Nights - SCP Foundation	31	[ "suspect-ratio", "scp-6151", "9-to-5", "australian-rules", "romcon", "capitalism-a-love-story", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon" ]	[]	1447891761	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tampa-days-miami-nights
tensile-testing	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>“The rules of this test are simple,” the proctor explained, its voice clear and commanding through the speakers of my headset. “Your objective is to go through the maze, find the weighted package, and carry it to the pressure plate at the end. The first person to do so will get a pass and be removed from the next round, wherein all the other students will repeat the same procedure. This continues until only two are left; whoever loses that round will be given a fail. Does everyone understand?”</p> <p>A confirmation box popped up on my visor, and I selected confirmation with a touch to the cover over my ear. I imagined all the other students doing the same, but they likely had much less anxiety than I did at that moment.</p> <p>Despite being trained into the ground, the improper editing of my DNA meant that I physically didn’t have the capacity to be as big as the other members of my species. The only reason my legs could even hold my body up in the planet’s strong gravity was due to intense physical therapy, because I didn’t have any alternative. When it came to competing against the Twos whose genetic engineering had actually worked? It was hopeless.</p> <p>Physical education was where it hit me the hardest; my brain was just as well-grown as the other Twos, and like other Twos, I was taught extreme subservience to the government. I always scored high in marksmanship, and could make split-second decisions in combat that wormed me out of many situations that would be fatal if they were real.</p> <p>But pure strength was not something I had. Another Two, or even someone of the naturally grown species of Ones, could brute-force overpower me every single time they tried. And when it came to the frequent stress tests we were subjected to, my body literally didn’t have the pulmonary and cardiovascular capacity to go as hard and fast as everyone else in my class.</p> <p>And nobody wanted to be gasping for breath on the gymnasium floor, especially not those who were supposed to be bioengineered into some kind of superior lifeform.</p> <p>If I failed this exam, I would fail the class. If I failed the class, that meant another term of excruciating pain flare-ups, exhaustion, and public humiliation.</p> <p>A countdown appeared on the display in front of my eyes.</p> <p>[3]</p> <p>[2]</p> <p>[1]</p> <p>[GO]</p> <p>I dashed across the starting line, steps virtually soundless as my forefoot struck the ground. We’d been allowed to pick our desired footwear, and I’d gone for the soft running shoes that weren’t much more than socks with a pad for the digits. The others in my class opted for the heavier-duty shoes with hard, springy supports along the arch– great for more power in one’s strides, but they were also very loud on the indoor flooring.</p> <p>As a kepler, the sensitivity of my ears allowed me to easily approximate the positions of my classmates as they thundered along their respective maze paths. I was sure that they were doing the same to each other, but they wouldn’t hear me.</p> <p>Someone was approaching the intersection up ahead, maybe five seconds away– hostile 1. There was someone else passing through a corridor parallel to me, running almost exactly my speed, hostile 2, but I would need to be faster if I was going to get through the intersection before the approaching individual. Four seconds away, then three, then two.</p> <p>I put on a burst of speed, coming into the corridor just in time to miss H1. I pivoted immediately right into the path of H2, slid past it, pushed off the ground, and started running again, momentum mostly preserved.</p> <p>I kept running through the maze, making a mental map of the corridors as I did. There was no package in sight, but I hoped I’d find it soon– the matter of carrying it to the pressure plate was another problem, so I just hoped it was relatively light.</p> <p>Unfortunately, hoping didn’t do much for my situation, and I realised that the sound of heavy footsteps had largely stopped. The other students likely hadn’t taken off their shoes in the middle of the exam, so that meant they had stopped running; if they had stopped running, they had found something.</p> <p>Just as I slowed to a walk, ears pricked for any noise from the others, a large X popped up on my screen with a flat tone to accompany it.</p> <p>“The first pass has been obtained. Please follow the augmented reality path on your headset to a new randomised starting point, you have two minutes to get there and reset.”</p> <p>There were five students in the exam, including me, now four in play, so I had three tries left.</p> <p>Three was enough.</p> <p>[LINE BREAK]</p> <p>[3]</p> <p>[2]</p> <p>[1]</p> <p>[GO]</p> <p>This time I stuck to one side, running close to the wall in hopes that it would eventually bring me to the centre, where I assumed the pressure plate would be. I would still need to find the package, but if I at least knew my ending point, the task would prove a lot easier.</p> <p>The maze became more complex, and there were footsteps all around, so I knew I was getting close. It would make sense for the test to be hardest right before completing it, to test our perseverance; that was obviously the point of using positive elimination, or in other words, you earned a break if you succeeded. For every round we failed, we would have to continue the test, continue our exertion; for the last person to fail, all that work would be for nothing.</p> <p>Approaching the intersection ahead were me, Unit 5a82, and hostile 3. Its steps were much heavier than the others, and slightly uneven, as if it were holding something it wasn’t used to– the package.</p> <p>Because of its inconsistent movements, I didn’t get a proper gauge on the timing of its path, and I collided with the package-carrier before slamming into the floor. My inertia made me slide across the ground on my side before finally coming to stop in a large, open square.</p> <p>Momentarily stunned, all I could do was watch the room spin as H3 placed the weighted package on the pressure plate I’d barely missed, another large X appearing on my screen that almost mocked my failure.</p> <p>“The second pass has been obtained. Follow your paths back, you have another two minutes.”</p> <p>I tried to push myself up, but I was awfully dizzy, and the ache in my already-tired muscles wasn’t helping. However, much to my surprise, H3 walked over to me and offered its hand.</p> <p>After a moment of consideration, I took it, allowing it to pull me to my feet. It barely even had to brace to do so. If I had a stomach, it would have sunk– if <em>it</em> had struggled with the package, how was I supposed to carry it more than a step?</p> <p>“Better luck next time. Do you need to go to the infirmary?”</p> <p>“I would get an automatic fail,” I responded.</p> <p>“You care about your grades more than I do.” It was a lighthearted remark, but just another indication that my classmates had no clue what kind of circumstances I was in.</p> <p>Failure was not an option. To the Handler, anything less than perfect was not an option, and I had already come out of the lab imperfect. Defective.</p> <p>I shuddered at the thought of what it would do once I reported to it after the exam, but I still had the possibility of passing. Not perfectly, and not first, but at least that would mitigate its… disapproval.</p> <p>Two tries left.</p> <p>[LINE BREAK]</p> <p>[3]</p> <p>[2]</p> <p>[1]</p> <p>[GO]</p> <p>At least I had figured out the topography of the most important objective, the plate in the centre. This round, I would try to find the package; I hadn’t gotten a good look at it the previous round, so this time I would need to figure out a good way to move it. There was no way I’d be able to carry it like H3, but perhaps I would be able to push or drag it along next to me. The flooring was smooth enough to reflect the sterile lights overhead, so I didn’t anticipate much difficulty in either option.</p> <p>With only two other students’ footsteps in play, it was easier to pinpoint their locations; one was halting, likely searching aimlessly just as I was. The other set stopped and changed directions occasionally, but was otherwise quite confident, and I presumed that the person making the noise– hostile 4– knew what it was looking for.</p> <p>Just as I decided to try following it, I happened upon something out of place. A cube with rounded edges, scuff marks in its white paint showing metal underneath. The package!</p> <p>I dashed over to where it rested on a platform in the wall near the corner, then gripped the sides and attempted to lift it. The proctor hadn’t been exaggerating when it’d called it a <em>weighted</em> package, the thing was far beyond what little load-bearing capacity my upper body possessed.</p> <p>I listened around me; H4’s footsteps were nearby, so I’d need to be quick. I decided to put my back against one of the cube’s vertical faces and push off the nearby wall with my legs, which would at least get it onto the ground. And onto the ground it went, and so did I, falling off the side of the platform before tucking into a roll to mitigate harm to my body.</p> <p>Once coming to a stop, I pushed myself up and listened again. I had maybe eight seconds, and struggling for the package would likely end up in serious injuries on my part, so instead I used the time to approach the cube and assess how difficult it was to push.</p> <p>With some effort, I could. I slipped away as H4 rounded the corner, and set off to familiarise myself with the surroundings of where I’d found the cube; I was throwing away my chance at winning this round, but it wasn’t for nothing.</p> <p>I had one try left. It would be the one, it had to be.</p> <p>[LINE BREAK]</p> <p>[3]</p> <p>[2]</p> <p>[1]</p> <p>[GO]</p> <p>I sprinted through the maze, quickly getting my bearings and beelining for where the package would be. The last remaining student was approaching from the opposite side, closing in on the same destination with fearsome accuracy. Where it had learned its location, I didn’t know, but I assumed that it had a plan as well.</p> <p>Twos’ physical size and strength, while intended to be impressive, was still secondary to our tactical and strategic abilities. At least, in circumstances like this, but that was all that mattered during this exam. It was all that would matter during our lives in the military, the intended destination of our intelligent designs.</p> <p>But as a blind individual experiences increased hearing, my lack of physical size had caused me to hone my mental faculties to a precise blade, and I had prepared for the possibility that it could get there faster than me.</p> <p>I slowed down as it did, but instead of heading directly for the package, I diverted to the alternate path I’d mapped out. I paid close attention to its movements, noting that it had picked up the package due to the additional weight and instability they took on.</p> <p>At this point it was likely wondering where I was; its question would be answered in T minus 30 seconds. I ran to the centre with the pressure plate, adrenaline making it feel more like a light jog than anything. My hearts pounded in my chest, and not just from exertion– I was genuinely afraid that I would throw my plan. But the more I overthought it, the more anxious I would get, and thus the lower chance of my success. So I bounced on my toes and shook out my hands as it approached the corridor that opened up into the square clearing, the pain in my muscles vaguely hovering, unattended, at the back of my mind.</p> <p>Ten seconds. I took in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. It was a good way to kill small amounts of time without agonising over one’s rapidly approaching objective.</p> <p>Two. One. The other student, package in its arms, cleared the hallway; I dashed forwards, then fell into a short slide, planted my palm on the ground, and used my arm as an axis to slam my leg into the back of its knees.</p> <p>It stumbled and dropped what it was holding, the cube sliding across the ground as it caught itself just in time. I scrambled upright and threw my weight against the package, pushing it towards the pressure plate, closer, closer, closer–</p> <p>It got to its feet and grabbed my shoulder, twisting my body around and pinning me to the top of the cube by my side. We weren’t allowed to tangibly hurt each other, but the over-abundance of neurons throughout my body meant that things could be incredibly painful without causing any significant, lasting damage. This was one of those times.</p> <p>“You are going to lose,” it hissed. “You do not have the capacity to succeed.”</p> <p>“That’s what everyone tells me,” I rasped through gritted teeth. I used the pressure it was applying to my upper body as an anchor, curling my legs up before kicking it in the chest as hard as I could.</p> <p>It was sent stumbling backwards, and the package and I went in the opposite direction. The cube’s rounded corner cleared the raised edge of the pressure plate, and with my added weight it slid right into the middle.</p> <p><em>Click.</em></p> <p>A light tone played through my headset, and I almost went limp with relief.</p> <p>“The last pass has been obtained. Please follow the path to the exit.”</p> <p>My legs complained greatly as I pushed myself upright, the adrenaline crash making me realise just how horrible I felt. Everything was sore, but I’d actually done it, I’d <em>done</em> it for once, even if it had been in the bad and stupid way that I always did things.</p> <p>I just dearly hoped it would be enough for the Handler.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/tensile-testing">Tensile Testing</a>" by tiredsn0w, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tensile-testing">https://scpwiki.com/tensile-testing</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[module Rate]] “The rules of this test are simple,” the proctor explained, its voice clear and commanding through the speakers of my headset. “Your objective is to go through the maze, find the weighted package, and carry it to the pressure plate at the end. The first person to do so will get a pass and be removed from the next round, wherein all the other students will repeat the same procedure. This continues until only two are left; whoever loses that round will be given a fail. Does everyone understand?” A confirmation box popped up on my visor, and I selected confirmation with a touch to the cover over my ear. I imagined all the other students doing the same, but they likely had much less anxiety than I did at that moment. Despite being trained into the ground, the improper editing of my DNA meant that I physically didn’t have the capacity to be as big as the other members of my species. The only reason my legs could even hold my body up in the planet’s strong gravity was due to intense physical therapy, because I didn’t have any alternative. When it came to competing against the Twos whose genetic engineering had actually worked? It was hopeless. Physical education was where it hit me the hardest; my brain was just as well-grown as the other Twos, and like other Twos, I was taught extreme subservience to the government. I always scored high in marksmanship, and could make split-second decisions in combat that wormed me out of many situations that would be fatal if they were real. But pure strength was not something I had. Another Two, or even someone of the naturally grown species of Ones, could brute-force overpower me every single time they tried. And when it came to the frequent stress tests we were subjected to, my body literally didn’t have the pulmonary and cardiovascular capacity to go as hard and fast as everyone else in my class. And nobody wanted to be gasping for breath on the gymnasium floor, especially not those who were supposed to be bioengineered into some kind of superior lifeform. If I failed this exam, I would fail the class. If I failed the class, that meant another term of excruciating pain flare-ups, exhaustion, and public humiliation. A countdown appeared on the display in front of my eyes. [3] [2] [1] [GO] I dashed across the starting line, steps virtually soundless as my forefoot struck the ground. We’d been allowed to pick our desired footwear, and I’d gone for the soft running shoes that weren’t much more than socks with a pad for the digits. The others in my class opted for the heavier-duty shoes with hard, springy supports along the arch– great for more power in one’s strides, but they were also very loud on the indoor flooring. As a kepler, the sensitivity of my ears allowed me to easily approximate the positions of my classmates as they thundered along their respective maze paths. I was sure that they were doing the same to each other, but they wouldn’t hear me. Someone was approaching the intersection up ahead, maybe five seconds away– hostile 1. There was someone else passing through a corridor parallel to me, running almost exactly my speed, hostile 2, but I would need to be faster if I was going to get through the intersection before the approaching individual. Four seconds away, then three, then two. I put on a burst of speed, coming into the corridor just in time to miss H1. I pivoted immediately right into the path of H2, slid past it, pushed off the ground, and started running again, momentum mostly preserved. I kept running through the maze, making a mental map of the corridors as I did. There was no package in sight, but I hoped I’d find it soon– the matter of carrying it to the pressure plate was another problem, so I just hoped it was relatively light. Unfortunately, hoping didn’t do much for my situation, and I realised that the sound of heavy footsteps had largely stopped. The other students likely hadn’t taken off their shoes in the middle of the exam, so that meant they had stopped running; if they had stopped running, they had found something. Just as I slowed to a walk, ears pricked for any noise from the others, a large X popped up on my screen with a flat tone to accompany it. “The first pass has been obtained. Please follow the augmented reality path on your headset to a new randomised starting point, you have two minutes to get there and reset.” There were five students in the exam, including me, now four in play, so I had three tries left. Three was enough. [LINE BREAK] [3] [2] [1] [GO] This time I stuck to one side, running close to the wall in hopes that it would eventually bring me to the centre, where I assumed the pressure plate would be. I would still need to find the package, but if I at least knew my ending point, the task would prove a lot easier. The maze became more complex, and there were footsteps all around, so I knew I was getting close. It would make sense for the test to be hardest right before completing it, to test our perseverance; that was obviously the point of using positive elimination, or in other words, you earned a break if you succeeded. For every round we failed, we would have to continue the test, continue our exertion; for the last person to fail, all that work would be for nothing. Approaching the intersection ahead were me, Unit 5a82, and hostile 3. Its steps were much heavier than the others, and slightly uneven, as if it were holding something it wasn’t used to– the package. Because of its inconsistent movements, I didn’t get a proper gauge on the timing of its path, and I collided with the package-carrier before slamming into the floor. My inertia made me slide across the ground on my side before finally coming to stop in a large, open square. Momentarily stunned, all I could do was watch the room spin as H3 placed the weighted package on the pressure plate I’d barely missed, another large X appearing on my screen that almost mocked my failure. “The second pass has been obtained. Follow your paths back, you have another two minutes.” I tried to push myself up, but I was awfully dizzy, and the ache in my already-tired muscles wasn’t helping. However, much to my surprise, H3 walked over to me and offered its hand. After a moment of consideration, I took it, allowing it to pull me to my feet. It barely even had to brace to do so. If I had a stomach, it would have sunk– if //it// had struggled with the package, how was I supposed to carry it more than a step? “Better luck next time. Do you need to go to the infirmary?” “I would get an automatic fail,” I responded. “You care about your grades more than I do.” It was a lighthearted remark, but just another indication that my classmates had no clue what kind of circumstances I was in. Failure was not an option. To the Handler, anything less than perfect was not an option, and I had already come out of the lab imperfect. Defective. I shuddered at the thought of what it would do once I reported to it after the exam, but I still had the possibility of passing. Not perfectly, and not first, but at least that would mitigate its… disapproval. Two tries left. [LINE BREAK] [3] [2] [1] [GO] At least I had figured out the topography of the most important objective, the plate in the centre. This round, I would try to find the package; I hadn’t gotten a good look at it the previous round, so this time I would need to figure out a good way to move it. There was no way I’d be able to carry it like H3, but perhaps I would be able to push or drag it along next to me. The flooring was smooth enough to reflect the sterile lights overhead, so I didn’t anticipate much difficulty in either option. With only two other students’ footsteps in play, it was easier to pinpoint their locations; one was halting, likely searching aimlessly just as I was. The other set stopped and changed directions occasionally, but was otherwise quite confident, and I presumed that the person making the noise– hostile 4– knew what it was looking for. Just as I decided to try following it, I happened upon something out of place. A cube with rounded edges, scuff marks in its white paint showing metal underneath. The package! I dashed over to where it rested on a platform in the wall near the corner, then gripped the sides and attempted to lift it. The proctor hadn’t been exaggerating when it’d called it a //weighted// package, the thing was far beyond what little load-bearing capacity my upper body possessed. I listened around me; H4’s footsteps were nearby, so I’d need to be quick. I decided to put my back against one of the cube’s vertical faces and push off the nearby wall with my legs, which would at least get it onto the ground. And onto the ground it went, and so did I, falling off the side of the platform before tucking into a roll to mitigate harm to my body. Once coming to a stop, I pushed myself up and listened again. I had maybe eight seconds, and struggling for the package would likely end up in serious injuries on my part, so instead I used the time to approach the cube and assess how difficult it was to push. With some effort, I could. I slipped away as H4 rounded the corner, and set off to familiarise myself with the surroundings of where I’d found the cube; I was throwing away my chance at winning this round, but it wasn’t for nothing. I had one try left. It would be the one, it had to be. [LINE BREAK] [3] [2] [1] [GO] I sprinted through the maze, quickly getting my bearings and beelining for where the package would be. The last remaining student was approaching from the opposite side, closing in on the same destination with fearsome accuracy. Where it had learned its location, I didn’t know, but I assumed that it had a plan as well. Twos’ physical size and strength, while intended to be impressive, was still secondary to our tactical and strategic abilities. At least, in circumstances like this, but that was all that mattered during this exam. It was all that would matter during our lives in the military, the intended destination of our intelligent designs. But as a blind individual experiences increased hearing, my lack of physical size had caused me to hone my mental faculties to a precise blade, and I had prepared for the possibility that it could get there faster than me. I slowed down as it did, but instead of heading directly for the package, I diverted to the alternate path I’d mapped out. I paid close attention to its movements, noting that it had picked up the package due to the additional weight and instability they took on. At this point it was likely wondering where I was; its question would be answered in T minus 30 seconds. I ran to the centre with the pressure plate, adrenaline making it feel more like a light jog than anything. My hearts pounded in my chest, and not just from exertion– I was genuinely afraid that I would throw my plan. But the more I overthought it, the more anxious I would get, and thus the lower chance of my success. So I bounced on my toes and shook out my hands as it approached the corridor that opened up into the square clearing, the pain in my muscles vaguely hovering, unattended, at the back of my mind. Ten seconds. I took in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. It was a good way to kill small amounts of time without agonising over one’s rapidly approaching objective. Two. One. The other student, package in its arms, cleared the hallway; I dashed forwards, then fell into a short slide, planted my palm on the ground, and used my arm as an axis to slam my leg into the back of its knees. It stumbled and dropped what it was holding, the cube sliding across the ground as it caught itself just in time. I scrambled upright and threw my weight against the package, pushing it towards the pressure plate, closer, closer, closer– It got to its feet and grabbed my shoulder, twisting my body around and pinning me to the top of the cube by my side. We weren’t allowed to tangibly hurt each other, but the over-abundance of neurons throughout my body meant that things could be incredibly painful without causing any significant, lasting damage. This was one of those times. “You are going to lose,” it hissed. “You do not have the capacity to succeed.” “That’s what everyone tells me,” I rasped through gritted teeth. I used the pressure it was applying to my upper body as an anchor, curling my legs up before kicking it in the chest as hard as I could. It was sent stumbling backwards, and the package and I went in the opposite direction. The cube’s rounded corner cleared the raised edge of the pressure plate, and with my added weight it slid right into the middle. //Click.// A light tone played through my headset, and I almost went limp with relief. “The last pass has been obtained. Please follow the path to the exit.” My legs complained greatly as I pushed myself upright, the adrenaline crash making me realise just how horrible I felt. Everything was sore, but I’d actually done it, I’d //done// it for once, even if it had been in the bad and stupid way that I always did things. I just dearly hoped it would be enough for the Handler. [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[=]] Tensile Testing \| [[[False Idol]]] >> [[/=]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-24T03:10:00	[ "_licensebox", "blue-blooded-alien", "tale" ]	Tensile Testing - SCP Foundation	8	[ "false-idol", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446962526	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tensile-testing
terrible-sunlight	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/component%3Abhl-dark-sidebar/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aextra-black-highlighter-theme/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Alzin Cdag, with images by tiredSn0w and Fierce fauna</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p>All That Copper, Glowing Fine Part 4: Terrible Sunlight</p> <p><strong>Content warning: attempted suicide</strong></p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/alzin-cdag">More by this author</a></p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <div class="content-warning creditRate">⚠️ content warning <span class="content-warning-arrow"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div> </div> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Part 3"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/atcgf-growing-pains">Part 3</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="All That Copper, Glowing Fine"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/altitudes-hub">All That Copper, Glowing Fine</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Part 5"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/it-seems-like-years-since-it-s-been-here">Part 5</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Based on characters by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tiredsn0w" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7483584); return false;"><img alt="tiredsn0w" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7483584&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7483584)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/tiredsn0w" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7483584); return false;">tiredsn0w</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gabriel-jade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(414239); return false;"><img alt="Gabriel Jade" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=414239&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=414239)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gabriel-jade" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(414239); return false;">Gabriel Jade</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;"><img alt="djkaktus" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1888434&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1888434)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/djkaktus" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1888434); return false;">djkaktus</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dmatix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1366080); return false;"><img alt="Dmatix" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1366080&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1366080)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dmatix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1366080); return false;">Dmatix</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/metaphysician" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1698079); return false;"><img alt="Metaphysician" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1698079&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1698079)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/metaphysician" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1698079); return false;">Metaphysician</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/montagueetc" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5525011); return false;"><img alt="MontagueETC" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5525011&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5525011)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/montagueetc" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5525011); return false;">MontagueETC</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drchandra" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1956625); return false;"><img alt="DrChandra" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1956625&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1956625)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drchandra" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1956625); return false;">DrChandra</a></span>, whoever came up with Percival Darke (<span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/randomini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1379080); return false;"><img alt="Randomini" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1379080&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1379080)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/randomini" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1379080); return false;">Randomini</a></span>, perhaps?), <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/soullesssingularity" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(637830); return false;"><img alt="SoullessSingularity" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=637830&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=637830)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/soullesssingularity" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(637830); return false;">SoullessSingularity</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pennywisetheclown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(211184); return false;"><img alt="PennywiseTheClown" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=211184&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=211184)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/pennywisetheclown" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(211184); return false;">PennywiseTheClown</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/snuggly-face" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5599959); return false;"><img alt="snuggly face" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5599959&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5599959)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/snuggly-face" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5599959); return false;">snuggly face</a></span>, interpretations of the Masked Lords by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drgooday" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5301801); return false;"><img alt="DrGooday" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5301801&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5301801)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drgooday" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5301801); return false;">DrGooday</a></span> in their work <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poetic-records-of-the-alagaddan-lords">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poetic-records-of-the-alagaddan-lords</a>, and interpretations of Grabnok from <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/margssentif" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3861605); return false;"><img alt="margssentif" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3861605&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3861605)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/margssentif" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3861605); return false;">margssentif</a></span> in their work <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hopping-through-worlds">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hopping-through-worlds</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/alzin-cdag">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$comments2}</p> </div> <div class="u-faq"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">F.A.Q.</a></p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <p>{$doesthisfixthebug}</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <h2 id="toc0"><span>The Star</span></h2> <p>And the Doctor advanced on me with his knife.</p> <p>The game was up. I closed my eyes and raised my hands to the ceiling. <em>If I'm going to die,</em> I thought, <em>It's good that the last person I'll see will be him…</em></p> <p>"Am I… interrupting anything?" Asked the Ambassador of Alagadda. They made a hand-gesture that paralyzed both the Doctor and me.</p> <p>"No, no…" grunted the Doctor, "Not at all. Just trying to kill her to make myself feel better…"</p> <p>"Oh, so you're still trying to feel better? We can't have that from an Anguished Lord, can we?" The knife dissolved into nothingness in the Doctor's rigid hand.</p> <p>"Now, let me see. The other lords' best tactic to bring you to anguish was… 'making you believe your anti-Pestilence crusade had all been for nothing,' it says here? How's that going?"</p> <p>"You cannot fool me, Alagaddan," grunted the Doctor. "My cure is <em>most</em> effective, no matter the cost it has on individuals."</p> <p>The Ambassador sighed. "Never send a Lord to do an Ambassador's work."</p> <p>They began to drag the Doctor's form out of the room in chains. I realized I was no longer paralyzed, but until I could no longer hear the de facto ruler of the realm on the staircase, I would not yet run.</p> <p>"Come on, Surgeon," said the Ambassador. "The Hanged King awaits."</p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc1"><span>The Companion</span></h2> <p>All was in readiness. The final stages of my plan could finally be put into action.</p> <p>And about time, too. I could barely stand for the pain, and my one friend had gone.</p> <p>Here I stood, by the side of the main road (which was every road, once you explored them- the city fractalized ever-downward, ever outward, but every street was the same street) of Alagadda, desperately uncomfortable at the orgy that was happening <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">mere meters</span> an indeterminate distance away. It never stopped, for the dreamlike nature of the city meant that none needed to eat nor sleep.</p> <p>Beside me stood the Deathless Merchant of London and his strange, creepy entourage.</p> <p>Darke had pulled in favors with some associates of his to negotiate the contracts with the Masked Lords. "If they see me coming," he had explained, "They'll smell that something's fishy a mile away. I'm too well known here."</p> <p>"You okay, kid?" asked Icky. "This city isn't for you, is it?"</p> <p>"It's- it's not really to my taste," I told her. I didn't really trust clowns, but she was the friendliest face I was likely to see. "There's too-" Her girlfriend Lolly joined her, bouncing excitedly, and I realized a bit too late that it would be too personal of a subject if I were to mention my discomfort with how much sex there was.</p> <p>"There's too what?" Asked Lolly. "Can I guess? I never thought there could be too much of anything, let's see… Ooh, what about too little-"</p> <p>"Lolly," warned Icky. "It's okay for people to feel overwhelmed by things they aren't used to. Sometimes I get self-conscious about whether the circus claims too much." She turned back to me.</p> <p>"Kid, if anyone here's earned the right to complain about this city, it's you. And Lolly and I have thick skins. As long as you aren't advocating genocide or saying anything against the LGBTQ community, I think we can handle it."</p> <p>"Well…" I said.</p> <p>"I'm not comfortable with seeing lots of people engaged in intimate sex all the time," I began.</p> <p>"Nobody is," said Lolly, to my relief. "Nobody decent, anyway. I don't think most of the people in the orgy realize there's anybody there but themselves."</p> <p>"And, like you said, Lolly, it's also about there being too few of certain things," I continued. "Colors, for instance."</p> <p>"That, we can entirely sympathize with," said Icky. "One shade each of red, white, yellow, black… It's depressing, to say the least."</p> <p>"Exactly!" I said.</p> <p>"What color do you miss the most?" asked Lolly.</p> <p>The answer tumbled out before I fully knew what I was saying, "I miss blue."</p> <p>"Why is that?" asked Lolly. "The sky? The sea?"</p> <p>"Not really," I said. "It's just…"</p> <p>I began again. "I've got blue blood," I said.</p> <p>"Cool!" Said Lolly. "Always a pleasure to meet another Freak!"</p> <p>I winced. "Oh," said Lolly, "I didn't mean that as an insult! It just means you're special. You're cool! You're not like all the Humdrums out there, and you can use that difference to make things better, for everyone! Whether inspiring a little wonder in their lives, or doing what you're doing here."</p> <p>"You really need to pay a visit to my home planet's government," I laughed. "They need your perspective."</p> <p>"Oh, definitely!" claimed Lolly. "Just as soon as you give Mr. Darke here the coordinates, I'll be happy to take a Kaleidoscope ride there!"</p> <p>"But," said Icky, "I believe you were going to say something else before Icky interrupted?"</p> <p>"Right," I said. "I've got blue blood. On Earth, that makes me special. On my home world, I was born and bred to follow orders. To be just one of a servant caste. But on Earth, I was the only person with hemocyanin blood. And everyone thought it was cool. I liked the attention. Even Grabnok thought I was cool, and he hops between universes!"</p> <p>"Grabnok?" Asked Icky. "Oh, you must mean <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hopping-through-worlds">Agent Hopper</a>. He escaped from the Essies recently, joined up with the Serpent's Hand."</p> <p>"Good for him!" I laughed. "But here, my blood's just a boring old red, like everyone else."</p> <p>Darke joined in the conversation. "That's where you're wrong, friend!" he said. "Red blood on Earth turns black here."</p> <p>"So…" I said. "I'm still different?"</p> <p>"You never stopped being different!" Laughed Lolly. "Once a Freak, always a Freak!"</p> <p>To Darke's left stood a man who seemed to be biological but left a trail of rust and smog in his wake. "It's my brother," Darke introduced him, "The Investor."</p> <p><em>A steam whistle, like the start of a work day,</em> was the sound the Investor made in lieu of a "Hello, how do you do?"</p> <p>We shook hands, though Darke made a point to make sure it wasn't my metal hand- "You don't want it rusted to pieces quite yet, I am sure," said Darke.</p> <p>"All right," said Darke. "We all know the plan?"</p> <p>"Yes," said Lolly.</p> <p><em>The Ding of a clocking-in mechanism,</em> said the Investor.</p> <p>"Yes," I said.</p> <p>"Yes," confirmed the indeterminate number of Shark-Punchers to my left.</p> <p>"Are you of the SPC absolutely sure?" Asked Darke. "You're probably getting the worst end of the deal-"</p> <p>"Listen up, bub," their spokeswoman said. "Our fists are strong. Our resolve will never break. And punching sharks is our greatest joy. So if you have the unmitigated gall to suggest that the chance to punch sharks <em>forever</em> is the worst end of the deal, I might have to deck you as a no-good <em>selachian sympathizer.</em>"</p> <p>"Then let's go!" I said. "Everyone to your positions!"</p> <hr/> <h1 id="toc2"><span>The Waltz of the Masked Lords</span></h1> <h2 id="toc3"><span>Lolly and the Red Lord, Wearer of the Mirthful Mask</span></h2> <div class="lolly"> <p>Why Hello There!</p> </div> <div class="redLord"> <p>Who Are You?</p> </div> <div class="lolly"> <p>Don't You Know</p> <p>Well, I Do!</p> </div> <div class="lolly"> <p>I'm a Clown</p> <p>(Name's Lolly)</p> <p>Come to Town</p> </div> <div class="redLord"> <p>Why To Me?</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="redLord"> <p>I Need None-</p> <p>Give Me Mirth?</p> <p>I'm the One-</p> </div> <div class="lolly"> <p>What's the Worth?</p> <p>Pleasure, Pain,</p> <p>Sorrow, Joy,</p> <p>Concert-Twain<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></p> </div> <div class="redLord"> <p>Be not Coy!</p> </div> <div class="lolly"> <p>Anguish Wrack</p> <p>Servants Yours-</p> <p>Red to Black-</p> </div> <div class="redLord"> <p>Ha, Of Course!</p> <p>Send to Black-</p> <p>Make Them Sad-</p> <p>When Come Back-</p> </div> <div class="lolly"> <p>Be More Glad!</p> <p>Time To Sign</p> <p>Contracts Here</p> <p>Dotted Line</p> <p>Have No Fear….</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc4"><span>The Investor and the White Lord, Wearer of the Diligent Mask</span></h2> <div id="u-myTextMessageConvoHolder" style="display:inline-block; width:100%;"> <div class="whiteLord"> <p>Who Are You-</p> <p>I Warn You-</p> <p>That I Am</p> <p>Busy.</p> <p>Tasks To Take-</p> <p>No Mistake-</p> <p>That I Am</p> <p>Busy.</p> </div> <div class="investor"> <p><em>Typewriter</em></p> <p><em>Gear Grinder</em></p> <p><em>Bells Ringing</em></p> <p><em>Whistle.</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></p> </div> <div class="whiteLord"> <p>Paperwork?</p> <p>Leave Me, Jerk-</p> <p>I'm Very</p> <p>Busy.</p> <p>Got No Time</p> <p>For Each Rhyme</p> <p>'Cause I'm Still</p> <p>Busy.</p> </div> <div class="investor"> <p><em>Two-Tick Clock</em></p> <p><em>Lightning Shock</em></p> <p><em>Hammer-Stamp</em></p> <p><em>Screeching.</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup></p> </div> <div class="whiteLord"> <p>Till I Know</p> <p>Where Winds Blow</p> <p>I Will Stay</p> <p>Busy.</p> <p>Lines Unread</p> <p>Leave Some Dead</p> <p>Best To Be</p> <p>Busy!</p> </div> <div class="investor"> <p><em>Pages Flip</em></p> <p><em>Scrape and Clip</em></p> <p><em>Tape Rewind</em></p> <p><em>Coughing.</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup></p> </div> <p><em>A long period of time passes. The Investor strings together a long series of machine noises representing the text of each contract. They repeat, again and again, faster and faster. At last, the White Lord interrupts:</em></p> <div class="whiteLord"> <p>Right, I'll Sign</p> <p>Waste No Time</p> <p>Won't Be Bored</p> <p>And Busy.</p> <p>Name, Name, Name-</p> <p>There's No Blame-</p> <p>All The Same-</p> <p>And Busy.</p> <p>Leave Me Here</p> <p>Take Your Gear</p> <p>Let Me Be</p> <p>Busy!</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Darke checked his list. "Thank you, brother," he told the Investor as he handed Darke the last of the contracts. "Here's your compensation for taking a vacation day away from The Factory," Darke said, handing him seven ingots of Telekill. The Investor unhinged his jaw and began to swallow the ingots whole; they had begun to rust even in his hand. He printed from his mouth a long receipt and handed it to Darke. Darke took it and thanked him, as if it were an extravagant show of affection.</p> <p>"Now, where is dado?" Asked Darke. He looked around, but couldn't see the parapharmacologist entrepreneur anywhere. "We've got a tight timetable before the Lords start to compare notes and realize something's going on. Where is that man?"</p> <p>Darke's pocket buzzed. He sighed. "Speak of the dado…" He pulled out his phone, which shouldn't have had reception in this place, and read the text message therein.</p> <p>"What's he say?" Asked Lolly.</p> <p>Darke groaned. " 'can't come, sry,' he says. 'blame bezos,' he says. 'tried to mail myself to save air fare, but found out too late amazon prime doesn't deliver to alagadda. sry about typhoons, dark in this box,' he says."</p> <p>"Well, that's just great," I said. "So what now?"</p> <p>"I don't know," said Darke. "He was the only person I know with the cognitohazard resistance to negotiate with the Odious Lord and maintain a clear head. The Yellow Lord puts out very strong disgust signals; it's in the nature of the mask."</p> <p>"Hmm," said Icky. "Are you sure I can't go? I run a circus, I work very closely with people who would disquiet a layperson."</p> <p>"Unfortunately not," said Darke. "We can't have two people from the same source show up to two different lords. When they compare notes later, they'll notice the connection, and I'm pretty sure you don't want the Lords of the city taking an intense interest in the Circus of the Disquieting."</p> <p>"Nuts," pouted Lolly.</p> <p>"So," I mused, "We need someone who is very…"</p> <p>"Kind," said a voice from behind me.</p> <p>"Yes- Wait, who said that?" I whirled around.</p> <p>"I did," said a mysterious figure. He wore a mask whose smile radiated warmth, and from the eyes that shone beneath it, his real smile was even kinder.</p> <p>"Do you know this guy?" I asked Darke.</p> <p>"I've… heard <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/kindness#pages">rumors</a>," said Darke in hushed tones. "A man who suddenly appears to help and comfort people, then vanishes. Never a <em>deus ex machina</em>…"</p> <p>"Wouldn't dream of being one," said the man. "I'm just here to show you all and the Yellow Lord a little… Kindness."</p> <h2 id="toc5"><span>The Kind Man and the Yellow Lord, Wearer of the Odious Mask</span></h2> <div class="yellowLord"> <p>Who Disturbs?</p> <p>Keep Away!</p> <p>Let This Mask</p> <p>Flee Your Day!</p> <p>Odious</p> <p>Am I, Com-</p> <p>-Modious</p> <p>Is Not Com-</p> <p>-Pany With</p> <p>Me! My Rhymes,</p> <p>Rhythms, Times-</p> <p>Atrocious,</p> <p>Ferocious,</p> <p>So Get Thee</p> <p>Far, Far Hence-</p> <p>Why Wait? See-</p> <p>Hop That Fence!</p> </div> <div class="kindness"> <p>I Won't Leave</p> <p>You Now, Friend-</p> <p>Please, Believe-</p> <p>I'll Attend.</p> <p>I'll Be Kind.</p> <p>You Won't Mind?</p> </div> <div class="yellowLord"> <p>You Should Find</p> <p>Different</p> <p>Rest In Vo-</p> <p>-Ciferant</p> <p>Street Tableau</p> <p>I'll Repel</p> <p>You Away</p> <p>By My Smell</p> <p>This Fine Day!</p> </div> <div class="kindness"> <p>Need No Rest</p> <p>Just To Talk</p> <p>To Be Blest</p> <p>With You, Walk!</p> <p>To Impress</p> <p>There's No Need</p> <p>With Your Syl-</p> <p>-Lable Greed!</p> <p>I Like You.</p> <p>I Like All</p> <p>Want To Know</p> <p>What You Call</p> <p>This Great Woe</p> <p>Separates</p> <p>Makes You Wish:</p> <p>Close The Gates!</p> </div> <div class="yellowLord"> <p>You… Won't Go?</p> <p>Very… Well.</p> <p>If You'll Stay</p> <p>For A Spell</p> <p>And Won't Stray</p> <p>Then I'll Tell-</p> <p>(Wait This Might)</p> <p>(Be For Ill)</p> <p>(Should He Use)</p> <p>(Truth To Kill)</p> </div> <div class="kindness"> <p>That May Be:</p> <p>I'm Only</p> <p>Killing With</p> <p>Kindness</p> <p>Slaughter With</p> <p>Empathy</p> <p>You're Here And</p> <p>I'm Here And</p> <p>My Dear, I</p> <p>Want To See</p> <p>Show Me Your</p> <p>Burdens</p> <p>Let Us Com-</p> <p>-Miserate</p> <p>You Need To</p> <p>Unload Your</p> <p>Unhappy</p> <p>Ode: The Pain</p> <p>We'll Destroy</p> <p>With Kindness.</p> </div> <p><em>Musical Interlude.</em></p> <div class="yellowLord"> <p>I Will Tell</p> <p>You The Tale</p> <p>How I Fell</p> <p>Below Veil.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup></p> <p>It Begins</p> <p>With a Book</p> <p>And the Toll</p> <p>That It Took.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Chambers, Bob</p> <p>Cost My Job!</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Hang'd", I Said!</p> <p>"In Yellow,"</p> <p>Wrote, Instead!</p> <p>Royal Court</p> <p>Rose in Rage</p> <p>Because Of</p> <p>Written Page</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>I Was Mel-</p> <p>-Odious</p> <p>Now I'm Just</p> <p>Odious</p> <p>Pariah</p> <p>Lord in a</p> <p>Lordship Su-</p> <p>-Perfluous.</p> </div> <div class="kindness"> <p>Dear, You Still</p> <p>Sing So Well</p> <p>Your Story</p> <p>Sounds Like Hell.</p> <p>Performer</p> <p>Isolate?</p> <p>What an Ig-</p> <p>Noble Fate!</p> <p>All Can Tell.</p> <p>Sorry For</p> <p>All Your Pain</p> <p>It Must Have</p> <p>Hurt Your Brain!</p> <p>So Come On</p> <p>Let It Out</p> <p>It's Okay</p> <p>Cry And Shout!</p> <p>I'm No Judge</p> <p>Let's Eat Fudge</p> <p>In A Night</p> <p>That Is Out!</p> </div> <div class="yellowLord"> <p>I Can't Leave</p> <p>All My Slaves</p> <p>In Direct-</p> <p>-Ionless Doubt!</p> </div> <div class="kindness"> <p>These Contracts</p> <p>Will Give Them</p> <p>To The Black</p> <p>Lord, That Lout!</p> <p>Let Him Ba-</p> <p>-Bysit Whilst</p> <p>We Go Out!</p> </div> <div class="yellowLord"> <p>Oh, Well, Fine;</p> <p>I Will Sign</p> <p>Dotted Line!</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="kindness"> <p>(Killing With)</p> <p>(Kindness.)</p> <p>(Slaughter With)</p> <p>(Empathy.)</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>(You never had a chance.)</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc6"><span>The Companion</span></h2> <p>We watched the duets from afar, in awe of each pair's respective singing ability and improvisational skill. I supposed it was the dream-logic of Alagadda that organized their words just so, but nobody could deny the intelligence and charisma of all parties involved (with the possible exception of the Investor, who I could never understand.)</p> <p>An anonymous lady in the street to whom the Kind Man had slipped the contracts in return for a kind word delivered them expressly into my hands. I trembled. This next part was up to me.</p> <p>"Don't forget about my payment," said Darke, slyly. "I've done all I could, all you asked me for. Tell me how to get to Planet, and we're square."</p> <p>So I told him. "There's a thriving colony of extraplanetary expats in the anomalous enclave of Upstairs Seattle," I told him. "You get there by showing extraterrestrial DNA or an Upstairs Seattle passport to a secret scanner in the elevator of the Space Needle. Once you're there, watch your step; sometimes there's a sudden break in the clouds over Seattle, and you don't want to fall through the celestial pavement. There's an intragalactic travel agency three blocks from the Needle; it's called "Vermillion Horizons". Technically, Planet isn't on any official itinerary, since the Orthotans put an embargo on it, but tell Jerry the Spook that I sent you and pay what he asks. He'll hook you up with the Culture Bootleggers' Cartel, who regularly make the trip from Earth to Planet and back again."</p> <p>He turned to leave through the nearest dimensional door. "Wait!" I said. "How do I find the Doctor now?"</p> <p>"That shouldn't be too hard," he said as he left. "The Ambassador's walking him down the street in the direction of the Palace just now. Ciao!"</p> <p>So I turned, all my joints aching as I did so.</p> <p>There was a great procession, and leading it was the Ambassador, who was walking backwards while talking to the Doctor, who was being led in chains. His head was upright, as he made what would have been eye contact if the Ambassador had had eyes. His voice was defiant. "I'm telling you," he said, "All I found in the journal leads me to believe my quest to defeat the Pestilence is just!"</p> <p>"We'll see," sneered the Ambassador, "Whether that opinion survives a meeting with the Hanged King."</p> <p>I stood still. Then I broke into a run.</p> <p>I fell down almost immediately, racked with pain.</p> <p>I got up, slowly, painfully.</p> <p>Then I started walking at as brisk a pace as I could manage.</p> <p>"Doctor!" I shouted. "Doctor, I'm here!"</p> <p>He whirled immediately, and his chains knocked over the guards they were attached to as he started running for me. "6118!" He called. "Is that really you?"</p> <p>"Yes!" I said, walking slightly quicker towards him. "I'm here to save you! Everything's going to be all right!"</p> <p>He had closed half the distance between us when the Ambassador snapped their fingers and the Doctor collapsed.</p> <p>The Ambassador kept its lack of eyes focused on the Doctor as they glided over to me. "Oh, look, Black Lord Whose Mask Is Not Yet Anguished, it looks like you made a friend! How peculiar. How… opportune." They tented their fingers. "Friendship has great potential for causing all kinds of emotions, wouldn't you say? Maybe we don't need to involve the Hanged King after all."</p> <p>They looked back at me with malice, with mock-pity. For a being without a face, the Ambassador was quite expressive.</p> <p>"So go on, young one. Execute your daring plan, save your Doctor and then live happily ever after."</p> <p>"That was sarcasm, right?" I asked. "It's hard for me to tell sometimes."</p> <p>"Of course," the Ambassador agreed. "I fully expect you to fail, and that failure to put the Doctor in slightly more anguish then he's in presently. Then perhaps I'll do awful things to you to further lower his mood."</p> <p>"Thanks for your cooperation, then," I told the Ambassador. "It is very much appreciated."</p> <p>"Not at all," they replied. "Any time."</p> <p>So I walked, with great difficulty, up to the Doctor.</p> <p>The streets were quiet for once. The orgy had stopped, and its participants were looking for their clothes.</p> <p>My footsteps echoed across the buildings, heavy in infirmity as the Doctor's metal shoes were in weight.</p> <p>All of this was for him.</p> <p>Finally I kneeled down by his side. "Just sign these," I told him.</p> <p>"Mmm Mmm," he said, still completely paralyzed.</p> <p>I turned to the Ambassador. "Can you unfreeze his arms and hands?"</p> <p>"Of course," they said, clapping.</p> <p>The Doctor hugged me and I hugged him and for a moment it was just like old times again. "I love you from Kepler to Earth to Alagadda, and back," I whispered. "It's all going to be all right. We're never going to have to be apart again."</p> <p>"M mmmm mmm mmm," he said.</p> <p>"We're getting out of here," I whispered. "I can promise you that. Just sign all these contracts and we'll be free to go."</p> <p>With difficulty, he extricated himself from my arms. I gave him a quill plucked from a Wandsman and an inkbottle filled with human blood.</p> <p>So he signed all the contracts. I stood up, shaking, holding the thick stack in my hands.</p> <p>"All right then," asked the Ambassador, "Now what did that do?"</p> <p>"I'll tell you what it did," I said, "And exactly why you've got to let us go."</p> <img alt="xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/terrible-sunlight/xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg"/> <hr/> <h2 id="toc7"><span>The Doctor</span></h2> <p>He was sick.</p> <p>Not with the Pestilence, I couldn't diagnose it anymore since I remembered what it was; but as a Doctor- as a boyfriend- I recognized his physiology was not as sound as it had been when he had left.</p> <p>His gait hesitated in the hesitation of pain. His joints were swollen, and his skin was all burns and recent shaving injuries. His blood reeked of iron, which was odd considering it usually reeked of copper.</p> <p>Also, his hand and his wrist were two separate metal mechanisms. I wondered why he had seen fit to keep the remains of one prosthetic limb to build off of another; but that seemed like a concern to deal with after the rest were dealt with. I couldn't ask about it now in any case, since my mouth was still paralyzed.</p> <p>My heart still leapt out to him, though. I would cut off my own arm if it meant he regained his.</p> <p>He was talking now. "I have in my hand an indeterminate number of contracts, which now all have an addendum- signed into legality by the binding signatures of each of the Four Lords. Not even you can invalidate them."</p> <p>"All right," Said the Ambassador. "What's in the addendums, then?"</p> <p>"I'll tell you!" Said my alien boyfriend. I could hear the pain in his voice, but he sounded quite pleased with himself nonetheless. "Each of them transfers the responsibility of overseeing the contractee into the hands of the Black Lord."</p> <p>"So you plan on using your new subjects to cause a mutiny, then, allowing the Doctor to escape?"</p> <p>"Of course not. That would never work. You and the other three Lords are all powerful reality benders. You'd squash such a mutiny in seconds. And even so, you tracked the Doctor down once. There would be nothing stopping you from tracking him down again. No, mutiny is not my plan."</p> <p>"Then what is your plan?"</p> <p>"I'm getting to it!" he said with what I imagined under his mask must be an attempt at a smirk that turned into a grimace. "See, the Lords didn't look carefully enough at these contracts while they were signing them. They grew too repetitive, so they never noticed a crucial change in wording towards the end."</p> <p>"What change in wording?"</p> <p>"See, most of these contracts- legally binding and waterproof in every way- state that the servants can only work when they're in the <em>same</em> dimension as their overseeing Lord. But here at the bottom of the stack"- And he drew out a much smaller pile- "Are a set of contracts stating that the servants can only work when they're in a <em>different</em> dimension from their Lord."</p> <p>"All right, so what? You're trying to force us to send him to a different dimension so some workers can get back to work? We can stand to lose a few workers; we'll replace them within the week."</p> <p>"Not these workers!" crowed my boyfriend, as he lapsed into a coughing fit. "See, these particular workers have the august and most valuable duty of <em>torturing the Hanged King.</em>"</p> <p>And a squadron of Shark Punchers stepped out from the shadows.</p> <p>"It's almost time for our shift, Ambassador," said their spokeswoman. "Almost time to punch the biggest shark in existence. But I'm afraid we legally can't start punching him until such time as the Pelican over there vamooses."</p> <p>"Pain is a valuable commodity in Alagadda, Ambassador," said my boyfriend, expansively, as he dropped to his knees from the coughing fit. "The King needs his torment so this cursed dimension can siphon that from him instead of whatever else remains of himself. No torment, no king. And then who will the dimension turn to for its greatest sustenance, Ambassador?"</p> <p>"Surely we can stand to lose a few tormentors for a few days until we can replace them!"</p> <p>"You don't know that," my boyfriend said. "Math doesn't work in this city. You can't calculate how close you are to the margin of how much torture is necessary. You don't know that anything will work except for the status quo."</p> <p>"So, let me ask one more time, nicely. Before the city comes down around your nonexistent ears. A plea to let him telecommute. <strong><em>Let My Doctor Go.</em></strong>"</p> <p>And the Ambassador stood there for a moment, stunned.</p> <p>And then they began to laugh. They laughed a hearty, wicked laugh, that started as an evil giggle and became a great belly-laugh of a Ho Ho Ho that suited the Krampus more than Santa Claus.</p> <p>"All right," they said finally, "The Doctor can go. All those people who work for him now can go." They unfroze me, and a portal opened behind me. All over Alagadda, I later found out, similar portals were opening, and grateful people jumped through them, away from this awful place.</p> <p>"But it turns out," they chuckled, "That I got what I wanted after all. Do you realize, Companion of the Doctor, what you've just become?"</p> <p>My boyfriend looked confused.</p> <p>"Ladies, Gentlemen and Nonbinary Folk of all stripes," crowed the Ambassador, "I give you…. THE CURRENT MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN ALAGADDA!"</p> <p>"And you know, don't you," they continued, "What happens to the important people in Alagadda. The dimension begins to feast on them, eat what's left of their truth."</p> <p>And I saw my boyfriend straighten up, as if he had forgotten the pain being generated at that exact moment.</p> <p>But that wasn't all. My boyfriend's mask grew temporarily transparent, possibly by some magic of the Ambassador's, to heighten the emotional impact of the moment. I saw a great look of confusion dawn on his face as he stared at me.</p> <p>"Re- remind me again," he said. "I've got a terrible memory for faces. What's your name?"</p> <p>He continued. "I know I just executed an elaborate plan on your behalf. I can feel the edges of the hole in my mind. I just can't remember…"</p> <p><em>He's infected…</em> I thought. <em>THE PESTILENCE!</em></p> <p><em>I CAN STOP IT IN ITS TRACKS I CAN PRESERVE OUR MEMORIES I AM THE CURE I AM THE CURE HE MUST BE CURED</em></p> <p><em>I WONT LOSE ANOTHER LOVED ONE TO IT ILL PRESERVE HIM AND ALL THE TIMES WE SHARED FOR ALL TIME FOR ALL TIME</em></p> <p><em>I CAN BEAT THE SECOND DEATH I CAN GET TO HIM BEFORE ITS TOO LATE</em></p> <p>is it worth it</p> <p><em>OF COURSE ITS WORTH IT THE TIMES WE SHARED ARE WORTH PAYING ANY COST TO PRESERVE</em></p> <p>but he's with you now</p> <p><em>WHICH IS WHY I CANT LOSE HIM DO YOU UNDERSTAND</em></p> <p>you won't be able to make new memories with him if you cure him</p> <p><em>THATS NOT THE POINT</em></p> <p>he's still here there's still time</p> <p><em>I CAN SAVE HIM I CAN SAVE US</em></p> <p>but can you save what you can be</p> <p><em>I</em></p> <p><em>I…</em></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div style="background: black; color: white; border: 2px solid white;"> <p>What’s the Worth</p> <p>Of A Life</p> <p>That is Spent</p> <p>Causing Strife</p> <p>I Repent</p> <p>To the Earth</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>And to God</p> <p>For I Grow:</p> <p>Life’s Worth More</p> <p>Than to Know</p> <p>Of Before</p> <p>It’s So Odd</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Were it Not</p> <p>For Six One</p> <p>One Eight’s Love</p> <p>There’d be None</p> <p>Who Could Shove</p> <p>Me From Aught</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Journal Told</p> <p>But the Thought</p> <p>Of the Man</p> <p>Is Worth Naught</p> <p>If I Can</p> <p>But Him Hold</p> </div> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc8"><span>The Companion</span></h2> <p>And the <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">stranger</span> man who I <em>should know</em>, after picking himself up and wrapping his fingers around my throat, loosened his grip and collapsed to the ground of his own volition, this time, and started convulsing in mental anguish.</p> <p>"Well, finally," said the Ambassador. "I look forward to working with you remotely, <em>Anguished Lord.</em>"</p> <p>Finally, the <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">man in the bird mask</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">Anguished Lord, apparently?</span> forgotten friend stood up. "Come on," he said. "We can try to regather your thoughts on the other side of the portal. Let's go."</p> <p>"All- all right?" I said. "In spite of my first impression of you being my attempted murder, apparently I trusted you enough to want to get out of here with you, so okay, let's go."</p> <p>He looked hurt, but he stepped through the portal.</p> <p>I followed him.</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">I followed him.</span></p> <p>I tried to follow him, but I bounced off of the portal.</p> <p>The Ambassador of Alagadda laughed. "The dimension itself already extracted its punishment," they said. "This is mine. All the Ways out of Alagadda are hereby closed off to you, and not even the Wanderer's Public Works Department can let you leave now."</p> <p>The last thing I saw of the <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">stranger</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">friend</span> boyfriend, possibly, from the jagged edges of the memories? was the desperate look in his eyes as he reached for my hand through the portal, trying to pull me in, before the Ambassador closed it.</p> <p>"Congratulations, kid," the Ambassador said. "You're a nobody again. That's all the punishment I can mete out for you." He handed me a brochure entitled, "A Tourist's Guide to the Pleasure City of Alagadda: Or, All the Obscure Words for the Four Colors and How To Spell Them."</p> <p>"The city is all yours, kid. Get real comfortable." They laughed as they floated away.</p> <p>The Kind Man came back a little later. "It's okay to cry now, if you want," he said, as we hugged fiercely. "It's the healthy thing to do."</p> <p>So I cried my coppery eyes out as he comforted me.</p> <p>I thought he would leave, eventually. I asked him about this. "I have all the time in the world to be kind, friend," he told me. "I'll stay as long as you need me."</p> <p>So we stayed there for quite some time.</p> <p>Eventually, I felt empty enough of tears to let go. I waved goodbye, and he walked into a building and vanished.</p> <p>So I stood there, alone, unsure of what to do. I knew in the memory of the bird-masked one I had lost something of great value. I had lost my sole guiding light, my sole reason that I got up in spite of how much it hurt.</p> <p>Eventually I made my way towards the black sea that girdles Alagadda, beneath the xanthous sky (a term I learned from the brochure) and its black stars.</p> <p>I saw the signs that warned people not to go swimming, or fishing.</p> So I jumped in.<br/> <img alt="Atlas_6118_water.png" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/terrible-sunlight/Atlas_6118_water.png"/> <hr/> <h2 id="toc9"><span>The Doctor</span></h2> <p>I collapsed in despair.</p> <p>Dimly conscious of bookshelves extending to the horizon, I sprawled onto the floor.</p> <p>People came up to my body, speaking in the direction of my face. They spoke warmly and kindly. Sometimes, they got angry. Eventually, they left.</p> <p>Maybe if I lay here long enough, I would stop feeling this way.</p> <p><em>Whap!</em></p> <p>Someone had punched me in the face!</p> <p>Who…</p> <p><em>Pow!</em></p> <p>I stood up, shakily, my hands covering my mask.</p> <p>"And that's for forgetting my birthday in 1732!"</p> <p><em>Whap!</em></p> <p>"And that's for thinking medicine is worth <em>killing</em> people over!"</p> <p><em>Crack!</em></p> <p>"And that's for lying on the ground trying to numb your feelings while your boyfriend rots in the city he just rescued you from!"</p> <p>My face hurt, though I could tell there was no lasting damage. My opponent knew how to inflict maximum pain with minimum actual harm.</p> <p>And the voice was familiar…</p> <p>"Anesthesiologist?" I said. "Is that you?"</p> <p>"You bet your hollow-boned chicken-livered fanny it's me!" He shouted. "I've been looking all over this Library for you since I learned you were here! And I thought, maybe he's doing research. Maybe he's connecting with the Hand! And I find you doing NOTHING! Doing less than nothing for the person who saved your bilious clogged colon from Alagadda and sacrificed his health, his memory, and his freedom in the process!"</p> <p>"You're…" I said. "You're right, Ani." I dusted off my clothing and stood, upright and free from illusions for the first time in all my six hundred years. "He's not staying there for long. Not if I have anything to say about it."</p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Part 3"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/atcgf-growing-pains">Part 3</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="All That Copper, Glowing Fine"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/altitudes-hub">All That Copper, Glowing Fine</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Part 5"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/it-seems-like-years-since-it-s-been-here">Part 5</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/terrible-sunlight">Terrible Sunlight</a>" by Alzin Cdag, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/terrible-sunlight">https://scpwiki.com/terrible-sunlight</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Atlas_6118_water.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Atlas_6118_water.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> tiredSn0w<br/> <strong>License:</strong> [<a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC by SA 3.0</a>]<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://tiredsn0w.tumblr.com/post/705027724295700480/so-i-stood-there-alone-unsure-of-what-to-do-i">https://tiredsn0w.tumblr.com/post/705027724295700480/so-i-stood-there-alone-unsure-of-what-to-do-i</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Fierce fauna<br/> <strong>License:</strong> [<a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC by SA 3.0</a>]<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c1b94ef0-198b-4fed-8efa-bccbbe216ddb/dfo6ur2-6d9c757b-25ef-48dd-95c8-89365a658112.jpg/v1/fill/w_1280,h_2088,q_75,strp/xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MjA4OCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxYjk0ZWYwLTE5OGItNGZlZC04ZWZhLWJjY2JiZTIxNmRkYlwvZGZvNnVyMi02ZDljNzU3Yi0yNWVmLTQ4ZGQtOTVjOC04OTM2NWE2NTgxMTIuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEyODAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.ZjATJWx43Nk1BJflXft9q8a_dlQrdVoMpf_Rm-pk_Ps">https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c1b94ef0-198b-4fed-8efa-bccbbe216ddb/dfo6ur2-6d9c757b-25ef-48dd-95c8-89365a658112.jpg/v1/fill/w_1280,h_2088,q_75,strp/xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MjA4OCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxYjk0ZWYwLTE5OGItNGZlZC04ZWZhLWJjY2JiZTIxNmRkYlwvZGZvNnVyMi02ZDljNzU3Yi0yNWVmLTQ4ZGQtOTVjOC04OTM2NWE2NTgxMTIuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEyODAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.ZjATJWx43Nk1BJflXft9q8a_dlQrdVoMpf_Rm-pk_Ps</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="footnotes-footer"> <div class="title">Footnotes</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-1"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-1')">1</a>. The two working together have a greater impact than they could separately.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. Good Evening, Madam White Lord of Alagadda, wearer of the Diligent Mask. I am the Investor, here to negotiate some paperwork.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. This will pass as quickly as lightning, Madam White Lord, Wearer of the Diligent Mask; all it requires is your repeated signature. Surely you are not averse to this?</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. All right, I'll read you all the contracts aloud while you do whatever it is you're busy with.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. Not the one separating knowledge of magic in the rest of the SCP universe, but of sadness and such.</div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Alzin Cdag, with images by tiredSn0w and Fierce fauna]] All That Copper, Glowing Fine Part 4: Terrible Sunlight Content warning: attempted suicide [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/alzin-cdag\|More by this author]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-cw">:scp-wiki:component:info-cw</a>]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/atcgf-growing-pains \| previous-title=Part 3 \| next-url= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/it-seems-like-years-since-it-s-been-here\| next-title=Part 5 \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/altitudes-hub \| hub-title=All That Copper, Glowing Fine ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=bluebeneathxanthousfortiredsnow3 \|authorPage=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/alzin-cdag \|comments=Based on characters by [[user tiredSn0w]], [[user Gabriel Jade]], [[user djkaktus]], [[user Dmatix]], [[user Metaphysician]], [[user MontagueETC]], [[user DrChandra]], whoever came up with Percival Darke ([[user Randomini]], perhaps?), [[user SoullessSingularity]], [[user PennywiseTheClown]], [[user snuggly face]], interpretations of the Masked Lords by [[user DrGooday]] in their work https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/poetic-records-of-the-alagaddan-lords, and interpretations of Grabnok from [[user margssentif]] in their work https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hopping-through-worlds. ]] [[module css]] .lolly {color:purple; border-radius: 25px;background-color:pink; background: linear-gradient(#fe6488, pink);padding: 15px;width: 150px;} .redLord {color:white; border-radius: 25px; background: red; padding: 15px;width: 150px;display: inline-block} .whiteLord {color:black; border-radius: 25px; border: 0.1em solid black; background: white; padding: 15px;width: 150px;display: inline-block} .investor {color: #663737; border-radius: 25px;background-color:#b5b096;padding: 15px;width: 150px;} .yellowLord {color:#343e00; border-radius: 25px; background: #ffff00; padding: 15px;width: 150px;display: inline-block} .kindness {color:black; border-radius: 25px;background-color:#1aff00; padding: 15px;width: 150px;} [[/module]] ++ The Star And the Doctor advanced on me with his knife. The game was up. I closed my eyes and raised my hands to the ceiling. //If I'm going to die,// I thought, //It's good that the last person I'll see will be him...// "Am I... interrupting anything?" Asked the Ambassador of Alagadda. They made a hand-gesture that paralyzed both the Doctor and me. "No, no..." grunted the Doctor, "Not at all. Just trying to kill her to make myself feel better..." "Oh, so you're still trying to feel better? We can't have that from an Anguished Lord, can we?" The knife dissolved into nothingness in the Doctor's rigid hand. "Now, let me see. The other lords' best tactic to bring you to anguish was... 'making you believe your anti-Pestilence crusade had all been for nothing,' it says here? How's that going?" "You cannot fool me, Alagaddan," grunted the Doctor. "My cure is //most// effective, no matter the cost it has on individuals." The Ambassador sighed. "Never send a Lord to do an Ambassador's work." They began to drag the Doctor's form out of the room in chains. I realized I was no longer paralyzed, but until I could no longer hear the de facto ruler of the realm on the staircase, I would not yet run. "Come on, Surgeon," said the Ambassador. "The Hanged King awaits." ------ ++ The Companion All was in readiness. The final stages of my plan could finally be put into action. And about time, too. I could barely stand for the pain, and my one friend had gone. Here I stood, by the side of the main road (which was every road, once you explored them- the city fractalized ever-downward, ever outward, but every street was the same street) of Alagadda, desperately uncomfortable at the orgy that was happening --mere meters-- an indeterminate distance away. It never stopped, for the dreamlike nature of the city meant that none needed to eat nor sleep. Beside me stood the Deathless Merchant of London and his strange, creepy entourage. Darke had pulled in favors with some associates of his to negotiate the contracts with the Masked Lords. "If they see me coming," he had explained, "They'll smell that something's fishy a mile away. I'm too well known here." "You okay, kid?" asked Icky. "This city isn't for you, is it?" "It's- it's not really to my taste," I told her. I didn't really trust clowns, but she was the friendliest face I was likely to see. "There's too-" Her girlfriend Lolly joined her, bouncing excitedly, and I realized a bit too late that it would be too personal of a subject if I were to mention my discomfort with how much sex there was. "There's too what?" Asked Lolly. "Can I guess? I never thought there could be too much of anything, let's see... Ooh, what about too little-" "Lolly," warned Icky. "It's okay for people to feel overwhelmed by things they aren't used to. Sometimes I get self-conscious about whether the circus claims too much." She turned back to me. "Kid, if anyone here's earned the right to complain about this city, it's you. And Lolly and I have thick skins. As long as you aren't advocating genocide or saying anything against the LGBTQ community, I think we can handle it." "Well..." I said. "I'm not comfortable with seeing lots of people engaged in intimate sex all the time," I began. "Nobody is," said Lolly, to my relief. "Nobody decent, anyway. I don't think most of the people in the orgy realize there's anybody there but themselves." "And, like you said, Lolly, it's also about there being too few of certain things," I continued. "Colors, for instance." "That, we can entirely sympathize with," said Icky. "One shade each of red, white, yellow, black... It's depressing, to say the least." "Exactly!" I said. "What color do you miss the most?" asked Lolly. The answer tumbled out before I fully knew what I was saying, "I miss blue." "Why is that?" asked Lolly. "The sky? The sea?" "Not really," I said. "It's just..." I began again. "I've got blue blood," I said. "Cool!" Said Lolly. "Always a pleasure to meet another Freak!" I winced. "Oh," said Lolly, "I didn't mean that as an insult! It just means you're special. You're cool! You're not like all the Humdrums out there, and you can use that difference to make things better, for everyone! Whether inspiring a little wonder in their lives, or doing what you're doing here." "You really need to pay a visit to my home planet's government," I laughed. "They need your perspective." "Oh, definitely!" claimed Lolly. "Just as soon as you give Mr. Darke here the coordinates, I'll be happy to take a Kaleidoscope ride there!" "But," said Icky, "I believe you were going to say something else before Icky interrupted?" "Right," I said. "I've got blue blood. On Earth, that makes me special. On my home world, I was born and bred to follow orders. To be just one of a servant caste. But on Earth, I was the only person with hemocyanin blood. And everyone thought it was cool. I liked the attention. Even Grabnok thought I was cool, and he hops between universes!" "Grabnok?" Asked Icky. "Oh, you must mean [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hopping-through-worlds Agent Hopper]. He escaped from the Essies recently, joined up with the Serpent's Hand." "Good for him!" I laughed. "But here, my blood's just a boring old red, like everyone else." Darke joined in the conversation. "That's where you're wrong, friend!" he said. "Red blood on Earth turns black here." "So..." I said. "I'm still different?" "You never stopped being different!" Laughed Lolly. "Once a Freak, always a Freak!" To Darke's left stood a man who seemed to be biological but left a trail of rust and smog in his wake. "It's my brother," Darke introduced him, "The Investor." //A steam whistle, like the start of a work day,// was the sound the Investor made in lieu of a "Hello, how do you do?" We shook hands, though Darke made a point to make sure it wasn't my metal hand- "You don't want it rusted to pieces quite yet, I am sure," said Darke. "All right," said Darke. "We all know the plan?" "Yes," said Lolly. //The Ding of a clocking-in mechanism,// said the Investor. "Yes," I said. "Yes," confirmed the indeterminate number of Shark-Punchers to my left. "Are you of the SPC absolutely sure?" Asked Darke. "You're probably getting the worst end of the deal-" "Listen up, bub," their spokeswoman said. "Our fists are strong. Our resolve will never break. And punching sharks is our greatest joy. So if you have the unmitigated gall to suggest that the chance to punch sharks //forever// is the worst end of the deal, I might have to deck you as a no-good //selachian sympathizer.//" "Then let's go!" I said. "Everyone to your positions!" ------- + The Waltz of the Masked Lords ++ Lolly and the Red Lord, Wearer of the Mirthful Mask [[div class="lolly"]] Why Hello There! [[/div]] [[div class="redLord" ]] Who Are You? [[/div]] [[div class="lolly"]] Don't You Know Well, I Do! [[/div]] [[div class="lolly"]] I'm a Clown (Name's Lolly) Come to Town [[/div]] [[div class="redLord" ]] Why To Me? [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="redLord" ]] I Need None- Give Me Mirth? I'm the One- [[/div]] [[div class="lolly"]] What's the Worth? Pleasure, Pain, Sorrow, Joy, Concert-Twain [[footnote]]The two working together have a greater impact than they could separately.[[/footnote]] [[/div]] [[div class="redLord" ]] Be not Coy! [[/div]] [[div class="lolly"]] Anguish Wrack Servants Yours- Red to Black- [[/div]] [[div class="redLord" ]] Ha, Of Course! Send to Black- Make Them Sad- When Come Back- [[/div]] [[div class="lolly"]] Be More Glad! Time To Sign Contracts Here Dotted Line Have No Fear.... [[/div]] @@ @@ ----- ++ The Investor and the White Lord, Wearer of the Diligent Mask [[div id="myTextMessageConvoHolder" style="display:inline-block; width:100%;"]] [[div class="whiteLord" ]] Who Are You- I Warn You- That I Am Busy. Tasks To Take- No Mistake- That I Am Busy. [[/div]] [[div class="investor" ]] //Typewriter// //Gear Grinder// //Bells Ringing// //Whistle.//[[footnote]]Good Evening, Madam White Lord of Alagadda, wearer of the Diligent Mask. I am the Investor, here to negotiate some paperwork.[[/footnote]] [[/div]] [[div class="whiteLord" ]] Paperwork? Leave Me, Jerk- I'm Very Busy. Got No Time For Each Rhyme 'Cause I'm Still Busy. [[/div]] [[div class="investor" ]] //Two-Tick Clock// //Lightning Shock// //Hammer-Stamp// //Screeching.// [[footnote]]This will pass as quickly as lightning, Madam White Lord, Wearer of the Diligent Mask; all it requires is your repeated signature. Surely you are not averse to this?[[/footnote]] [[/div]] [[div class="whiteLord" ]] Till I Know Where Winds Blow I Will Stay Busy. Lines Unread Leave Some Dead Best To Be Busy! [[/div]] [[div class="investor" ]] //Pages Flip// //Scrape and Clip// //Tape Rewind// //Coughing.// [[footnote]]All right, I'll read you all the contracts aloud while you do whatever it is you're busy with.[[/footnote]] [[/div]] //A long period of time passes. The Investor strings together a long series of machine noises representing the text of each contract. They repeat, again and again, faster and faster. At last, the White Lord interrupts:// [[div class="whiteLord" ]] Right, I'll Sign Waste No Time Won't Be Bored And Busy. Name, Name, Name- There's No Blame- All The Same- And Busy. Leave Me Here Take Your Gear Let Me Be Busy! [[/div]] ----- Darke checked his list. "Thank you, brother," he told the Investor as he handed Darke the last of the contracts. "Here's your compensation for taking a vacation day away from The Factory," Darke said, handing him seven ingots of Telekill. The Investor unhinged his jaw and began to swallow the ingots whole; they had begun to rust even in his hand. He printed from his mouth a long receipt and handed it to Darke. Darke took it and thanked him, as if it were an extravagant show of affection. "Now, where is dado?" Asked Darke. He looked around, but couldn't see the parapharmacologist entrepreneur anywhere. "We've got a tight timetable before the Lords start to compare notes and realize something's going on. Where is that man?" Darke's pocket buzzed. He sighed. "Speak of the dado..." He pulled out his phone, which shouldn't have had reception in this place, and read the text message therein. "What's he say?" Asked Lolly. Darke groaned. " 'can't come, sry,' he says. 'blame bezos,' he says. 'tried to mail myself to save air fare, but found out too late amazon prime doesn't deliver to alagadda. sry about typhoons, dark in this box,' he says." "Well, that's just great," I said. "So what now?" "I don't know," said Darke. "He was the only person I know with the cognitohazard resistance to negotiate with the Odious Lord and maintain a clear head. The Yellow Lord puts out very strong disgust signals; it's in the nature of the mask." "Hmm," said Icky. "Are you sure I can't go? I run a circus, I work very closely with people who would disquiet a layperson." "Unfortunately not," said Darke. "We can't have two people from the same source show up to two different lords. When they compare notes later, they'll notice the connection, and I'm pretty sure you don't want the Lords of the city taking an intense interest in the Circus of the Disquieting." "Nuts," pouted Lolly. "So," I mused, "We need someone who is very..." "Kind," said a voice from behind me. "Yes- Wait, who said that?" I whirled around. "I did," said a mysterious figure. He wore a mask whose smile radiated warmth, and from the eyes that shone beneath it, his real smile was even kinder. "Do you know this guy?" I asked Darke. "I've... heard [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/kindness#pages rumors]," said Darke in hushed tones. "A man who suddenly appears to help and comfort people, then vanishes. Never a //deus ex machina//..." "Wouldn't dream of being one," said the man. "I'm just here to show you all and the Yellow Lord a little... Kindness." ++ The Kind Man and the Yellow Lord, Wearer of the Odious Mask [[div class="yellowLord"]] Who Disturbs? Keep Away! Let This Mask Flee Your Day! Odious Am I, Com- -Modious Is Not Com- -Pany With Me! My Rhymes, Rhythms, Times- Atrocious, Ferocious, So Get Thee Far, Far Hence- Why Wait? See- Hop That Fence! [[/div]] [[div class="kindness"]] I Won't Leave You Now, Friend- Please, Believe- I'll Attend. I'll Be Kind. You Won't Mind? [[/div]] [[div class="yellowLord"]] You Should Find Different Rest In Vo- -Ciferant Street Tableau I'll Repel You Away By My Smell This Fine Day! [[/div]] [[div class="kindness"]] Need No Rest Just To Talk To Be Blest With You, Walk! To Impress There's No Need With Your Syl- -Lable Greed! I Like You. I Like All Want To Know What You Call This Great Woe Separates Makes You Wish: Close The Gates! [[/div]] [[div class="yellowLord"]] You... Won't Go? Very... Well. If You'll Stay For A Spell And Won't Stray Then I'll Tell- (Wait This Might) (Be For Ill) (Should He Use) (Truth To Kill) [[/div]] [[div class="kindness"]] That May Be: I'm Only Killing With Kindness Slaughter With Empathy You're Here And I'm Here And My Dear, I Want To See Show Me Your Burdens Let Us Com- -Miserate You Need To Unload Your Unhappy Ode: The Pain We'll Destroy With Kindness. [[/div]] //Musical Interlude.// [[div class="yellowLord"]] I Will Tell You The Tale How I Fell Below Veil.[[footnote]]Not the one separating knowledge of magic in the rest of the SCP universe, but of sadness and such.[[/footnote]] It Begins With a Book And the Toll That It Took. @@ @@ Chambers, Bob Cost My Job! @@ @@ "Hang'd", I Said! "In Yellow," Wrote, Instead! Royal Court Rose in Rage Because Of Written Page @@ @@ I Was Mel- -Odious Now I'm Just Odious Pariah Lord in a Lordship Su- -Perfluous. [[/div]] [[div class="kindness"]] Dear, You Still Sing So Well Your Story Sounds Like Hell. Performer Isolate? What an Ig- Noble Fate! All Can Tell. Sorry For All Your Pain It Must Have Hurt Your Brain! So Come On Let It Out It's Okay Cry And Shout! I'm No Judge Let's Eat Fudge In A Night That Is Out! [[/div]] [[div class="yellowLord"]] I Can't Leave All My Slaves In Direct- -Ionless Doubt! [[/div]] [[div class="kindness"]] These Contracts Will Give Them To The Black Lord, That Lout! Let Him Ba- -Bysit Whilst We Go Out! [[/div]] [[div class="yellowLord"]] Oh, Well, Fine; I Will Sign Dotted Line! [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="kindness"]] (Killing With) (Kindness.) (Slaughter With) (Empathy.) @@ @@ (You never had a chance.) [[/div]] [[/div]] ------ ++ The Companion We watched the duets from afar, in awe of each pair's respective singing ability and improvisational skill. I supposed it was the dream-logic of Alagadda that organized their words just so, but nobody could deny the intelligence and charisma of all parties involved (with the possible exception of the Investor, who I could never understand.) An anonymous lady in the street to whom the Kind Man had slipped the contracts in return for a kind word delivered them expressly into my hands. I trembled. This next part was up to me. "Don't forget about my payment," said Darke, slyly. "I've done all I could, all you asked me for. Tell me how to get to Planet, and we're square." So I told him. "There's a thriving colony of extraplanetary expats in the anomalous enclave of Upstairs Seattle," I told him. "You get there by showing extraterrestrial DNA or an Upstairs Seattle passport to a secret scanner in the elevator of the Space Needle. Once you're there, watch your step; sometimes there's a sudden break in the clouds over Seattle, and you don't want to fall through the celestial pavement. There's an intragalactic travel agency three blocks from the Needle; it's called "Vermillion Horizons". Technically, Planet isn't on any official itinerary, since the Orthotans put an embargo on it, but tell Jerry the Spook that I sent you and pay what he asks. He'll hook you up with the Culture Bootleggers' Cartel, who regularly make the trip from Earth to Planet and back again." He turned to leave through the nearest dimensional door. "Wait!" I said. "How do I find the Doctor now?" "That shouldn't be too hard," he said as he left. "The Ambassador's walking him down the street in the direction of the Palace just now. Ciao!" So I turned, all my joints aching as I did so. There was a great procession, and leading it was the Ambassador, who was walking backwards while talking to the Doctor, who was being led in chains. His head was upright, as he made what would have been eye contact if the Ambassador had had eyes. His voice was defiant. "I'm telling you," he said, "All I found in the journal leads me to believe my quest to defeat the Pestilence is just!" "We'll see," sneered the Ambassador, "Whether that opinion survives a meeting with the Hanged King." I stood still. Then I broke into a run. I fell down almost immediately, racked with pain. I got up, slowly, painfully. Then I started walking at as brisk a pace as I could manage. "Doctor!" I shouted. "Doctor, I'm here!" He whirled immediately, and his chains knocked over the guards they were attached to as he started running for me. "6118!" He called. "Is that really you?" "Yes!" I said, walking slightly quicker towards him. "I'm here to save you! Everything's going to be all right!" He had closed half the distance between us when the Ambassador snapped their fingers and the Doctor collapsed. The Ambassador kept its lack of eyes focused on the Doctor as they glided over to me. "Oh, look, Black Lord Whose Mask Is Not Yet Anguished, it looks like you made a friend! How peculiar. How... opportune." They tented their fingers. "Friendship has great potential for causing all kinds of emotions, wouldn't you say? Maybe we don't need to involve the Hanged King after all." They looked back at me with malice, with mock-pity. For a being without a face, the Ambassador was quite expressive. "So go on, young one. Execute your daring plan, save your Doctor and then live happily ever after." "That was sarcasm, right?" I asked. "It's hard for me to tell sometimes." "Of course," the Ambassador agreed. "I fully expect you to fail, and that failure to put the Doctor in slightly more anguish then he's in presently. Then perhaps I'll do awful things to you to further lower his mood." "Thanks for your cooperation, then," I told the Ambassador. "It is very much appreciated." "Not at all," they replied. "Any time." So I walked, with great difficulty, up to the Doctor. The streets were quiet for once. The orgy had stopped, and its participants were looking for their clothes. My footsteps echoed across the buildings, heavy in infirmity as the Doctor's metal shoes were in weight. All of this was for him. Finally I kneeled down by his side. "Just sign these," I told him. "Mmm Mmm," he said, still completely paralyzed. I turned to the Ambassador. "Can you unfreeze his arms and hands?" "Of course," they said, clapping. The Doctor hugged me and I hugged him and for a moment it was just like old times again. "I love you from Kepler to Earth to Alagadda, and back," I whispered. "It's all going to be all right. We're never going to have to be apart again." "M mmmm mmm mmm," he said. "We're getting out of here," I whispered. "I can promise you that. Just sign all these contracts and we'll be free to go." With difficulty, he extricated himself from my arms. I gave him a quill plucked from a Wandsman and an inkbottle filled with human blood. So he signed all the contracts. I stood up, shaking, holding the thick stack in my hands. "All right then," asked the Ambassador, "Now what did that do?" "I'll tell you what it did," I said, "And exactly why you've got to let us go." [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/terrible-sunlight/xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg width=50%]] ------ ++ The Doctor He was sick. Not with the Pestilence, I couldn't diagnose it anymore since I remembered what it was; but as a Doctor- as a boyfriend- I recognized his physiology was not as sound as it had been when he had left. His gait hesitated in the hesitation of pain. His joints were swollen, and his skin was all burns and recent shaving injuries. His blood reeked of iron, which was odd considering it usually reeked of copper. Also, his hand and his wrist were two separate metal mechanisms. I wondered why he had seen fit to keep the remains of one prosthetic limb to build off of another; but that seemed like a concern to deal with after the rest were dealt with. I couldn't ask about it now in any case, since my mouth was still paralyzed. My heart still leapt out to him, though. I would cut off my own arm if it meant he regained his. He was talking now. "I have in my hand an indeterminate number of contracts, which now all have an addendum- signed into legality by the binding signatures of each of the Four Lords. Not even you can invalidate them." "All right," Said the Ambassador. "What's in the addendums, then?" "I'll tell you!" Said my alien boyfriend. I could hear the pain in his voice, but he sounded quite pleased with himself nonetheless. "Each of them transfers the responsibility of overseeing the contractee into the hands of the Black Lord." "So you plan on using your new subjects to cause a mutiny, then, allowing the Doctor to escape?" "Of course not. That would never work. You and the other three Lords are all powerful reality benders. You'd squash such a mutiny in seconds. And even so, you tracked the Doctor down once. There would be nothing stopping you from tracking him down again. No, mutiny is not my plan." "Then what is your plan?" "I'm getting to it!" he said with what I imagined under his mask must be an attempt at a smirk that turned into a grimace. "See, the Lords didn't look carefully enough at these contracts while they were signing them. They grew too repetitive, so they never noticed a crucial change in wording towards the end." "What change in wording?" "See, most of these contracts- legally binding and waterproof in every way- state that the servants can only work when they're in the //same// dimension as their overseeing Lord. But here at the bottom of the stack"- And he drew out a much smaller pile- "Are a set of contracts stating that the servants can only work when they're in a //different// dimension from their Lord." "All right, so what? You're trying to force us to send him to a different dimension so some workers can get back to work? We can stand to lose a few workers; we'll replace them within the week." "Not these workers!" crowed my boyfriend, as he lapsed into a coughing fit. "See, these particular workers have the august and most valuable duty of //torturing the Hanged King.//" And a squadron of Shark Punchers stepped out from the shadows. "It's almost time for our shift, Ambassador," said their spokeswoman. "Almost time to punch the biggest shark in existence. But I'm afraid we legally can't start punching him until such time as the Pelican over there vamooses." "Pain is a valuable commodity in Alagadda, Ambassador," said my boyfriend, expansively, as he dropped to his knees from the coughing fit. "The King needs his torment so this cursed dimension can siphon that from him instead of whatever else remains of himself. No torment, no king. And then who will the dimension turn to for its greatest sustenance, Ambassador?" "Surely we can stand to lose a few tormentors for a few days until we can replace them!" "You don't know that," my boyfriend said. "Math doesn't work in this city. You can't calculate how close you are to the margin of how much torture is necessary. You don't know that anything will work except for the status quo." "So, let me ask one more time, nicely. Before the city comes down around your nonexistent ears. A plea to let him telecommute. //Let My Doctor Go.//" And the Ambassador stood there for a moment, stunned. And then they began to laugh. They laughed a hearty, wicked laugh, that started as an evil giggle and became a great belly-laugh of a Ho Ho Ho that suited the Krampus more than Santa Claus. "All right," they said finally, "The Doctor can go. All those people who work for him now can go." They unfroze me, and a portal opened behind me. All over Alagadda, I later found out, similar portals were opening, and grateful people jumped through them, away from this awful place. "But it turns out," they chuckled, "That I got what I wanted after all. Do you realize, Companion of the Doctor, what you've just become?" My boyfriend looked confused. "Ladies, Gentlemen and Nonbinary Folk of all stripes," crowed the Ambassador, "I give you.... THE CURRENT MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN ALAGADDA!" "And you know, don't you," they continued, "What happens to the important people in Alagadda. The dimension begins to feast on them, eat what's left of their truth." And I saw my boyfriend straighten up, as if he had forgotten the pain being generated at that exact moment. But that wasn't all. My boyfriend's mask grew temporarily transparent, possibly by some magic of the Ambassador's, to heighten the emotional impact of the moment. I saw a great look of confusion dawn on his face as he stared at me. "Re- remind me again," he said. "I've got a terrible memory for faces. What's your name?" He continued. "I know I just executed an elaborate plan on your behalf. I can feel the edges of the hole in my mind. I just can't remember..." //He's infected...// I thought. //THE PESTILENCE!// //I CAN STOP IT IN ITS TRACKS I CAN PRESERVE OUR MEMORIES I AM THE CURE I AM THE CURE HE MUST BE CURED// //I WONT LOSE ANOTHER LOVED ONE TO IT ILL PRESERVE HIM AND ALL THE TIMES WE SHARED FOR ALL TIME FOR ALL TIME// //I CAN BEAT THE SECOND DEATH I CAN GET TO HIM BEFORE ITS TOO LATE// is it worth it //OF COURSE ITS WORTH IT THE TIMES WE SHARED ARE WORTH PAYING ANY COST TO PRESERVE// but he's with you now //WHICH IS WHY I CANT LOSE HIM DO YOU UNDERSTAND// you won't be able to make new memories with him if you cure him //THATS NOT THE POINT// he's still here there's still time //I CAN SAVE HIM I CAN SAVE US// but can you save what you can be //I// //I...// [[=]] [[div style="background: black; color: white; border: 2px solid white;"]] What’s the Worth Of A Life That is Spent Causing Strife I Repent To the Earth @@ @@ And to God For I Grow: Life’s Worth More Than to Know Of Before It’s So Odd @@ @@ Were it Not For Six One One Eight’s Love There’d be None Who Could Shove Me From Aught @@ @@ Journal Told But the Thought Of the Man Is Worth Naught If I Can But Him Hold [[/div]] [[/=]] ------ ++ The Companion And the --stranger-- man who I //should know//, after picking himself up and wrapping his fingers around my throat, loosened his grip and collapsed to the ground of his own volition, this time, and started convulsing in mental anguish. "Well, finally," said the Ambassador. "I look forward to working with you remotely, //Anguished Lord.//" Finally, the --man in the bird mask-- --Anguished Lord, apparently?-- forgotten friend stood up. "Come on," he said. "We can try to regather your thoughts on the other side of the portal. Let's go." "All- all right?" I said. "In spite of my first impression of you being my attempted murder, apparently I trusted you enough to want to get out of here with you, so okay, let's go." He looked hurt, but he stepped through the portal. I followed him. --I followed him.-- I tried to follow him, but I bounced off of the portal. The Ambassador of Alagadda laughed. "The dimension itself already extracted its punishment," they said. "This is mine. All the Ways out of Alagadda are hereby closed off to you, and not even the Wanderer's Public Works Department can let you leave now." The last thing I saw of the --stranger-- --friend-- boyfriend, possibly, from the jagged edges of the memories? was the desperate look in his eyes as he reached for my hand through the portal, trying to pull me in, before the Ambassador closed it. "Congratulations, kid," the Ambassador said. "You're a nobody again. That's all the punishment I can mete out for you." He handed me a brochure entitled, "A Tourist's Guide to the Pleasure City of Alagadda: Or, All the Obscure Words for the Four Colors and How To Spell Them." "The city is all yours, kid. Get real comfortable." They laughed as they floated away. The Kind Man came back a little later. "It's okay to cry now, if you want," he said, as we hugged fiercely. "It's the healthy thing to do." So I cried my coppery eyes out as he comforted me. I thought he would leave, eventually. I asked him about this. "I have all the time in the world to be kind, friend," he told me. "I'll stay as long as you need me." So we stayed there for quite some time. Eventually, I felt empty enough of tears to let go. I waved goodbye, and he walked into a building and vanished. So I stood there, alone, unsure of what to do. I knew in the memory of the bird-masked one I had lost something of great value. I had lost my sole guiding light, my sole reason that I got up in spite of how much it hurt. Eventually I made my way towards the black sea that girdles Alagadda, beneath the xanthous sky (a term I learned from the brochure) and its black stars. I saw the signs that warned people not to go swimming, or fishing. So I jumped in. [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/terrible-sunlight/Atlas_6118_water.png width=50%]] ------- ++ The Doctor I collapsed in despair. Dimly conscious of bookshelves extending to the horizon, I sprawled onto the floor. People came up to my body, speaking in the direction of my face. They spoke warmly and kindly. Sometimes, they got angry. Eventually, they left. Maybe if I lay here long enough, I would stop feeling this way. //Whap!// Someone had punched me in the face! Who... //Pow!// I stood up, shakily, my hands covering my mask. "And that's for forgetting my birthday in 1732!" //Whap!// "And that's for thinking medicine is worth //killing// people over!" //Crack!// "And that's for lying on the ground trying to numb your feelings while your boyfriend rots in the city he just rescued you from!" My face hurt, though I could tell there was no lasting damage. My opponent knew how to inflict maximum pain with minimum actual harm. And the voice was familiar... "Anesthesiologist?" I said. "Is that you?" "You bet your hollow-boned chicken-livered fanny it's me!" He shouted. "I've been looking all over this Library for you since I learned you were here! And I thought, maybe he's doing research. Maybe he's connecting with the Hand! And I find you doing NOTHING! Doing less than nothing for the person who saved your bilious clogged colon from Alagadda and sacrificed his health, his memory, and his freedom in the process!" "You're..." I said. "You're right, Ani." I dusted off my clothing and stood, upright and free from illusions for the first time in all my six hundred years. "He's not staying there for long. Not if I have anything to say about it." [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/atcgf-growing-pains \| previous-title=Part 3 \| next-url= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/it-seems-like-years-since-it-s-been-here\| next-title=Part 5 \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/altitudes-hub \| hub-title=All That Copper, Glowing Fine ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* Atlas_6118_water.png > Name: Atlas_6118_water.png > Author: tiredSn0w > License: [[https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ CC by SA 3.0]] > Source Link: https://tiredsn0w.tumblr.com/post/705027724295700480/so-i-stood-there-alone-unsure-of-what-to-do-i > Filename: xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg > Name: xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg > Author: Fierce fauna > License: [[https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ CC by SA 3.0]] > Source Link: https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c1b94ef0-198b-4fed-8efa-bccbbe216ddb/dfo6ur2-6d9c757b-25ef-48dd-95c8-89365a658112.jpg/v1/fill/w_1280,h_2088,q_75,strp/xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MjA4OCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxYjk0ZWYwLTE5OGItNGZlZC04ZWZhLWJjY2JiZTIxNmRkYlwvZGZvNnVyMi02ZDljNzU3Yi0yNWVmLTQ4ZGQtOTVjOC04OTM2NWE2NTgxMTIuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEyODAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.ZjATJWx43Nk1BJflXft9q8a_dlQrdVoMpf_Rm-pk_Ps ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-15T04:26:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "alagadda", "bittersweet", "blue-blooded-alien", "factory", "first-person", "herman-fuller", "kindness", "otherworldly", "plague-doctor", "tale" ]	Terrible Sunlight - SCP Foundation	11	[ "alzin-cdag", "atcgf-growing-pains", "altitudes-hub", "it-seems-like-years-since-it-s-been-here", "poetic-records-of-the-alagaddan-lords", "hopping-through-worlds", "component:info-ayers", "system:page-tags/tag/kindness#pages", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "herman-fuller-hub", "factory-hub", "altitudes-hub" ]	[ "http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/terrible-sunlight/xanthous_blue_by_fiercefauna_dfo6ur2-fullview.jpg", "http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/terrible-sunlight/Atlas_6118_water.png" ]	1446190130	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/terrible-sunlight
the-beach-part-ii	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="code"> <div class="hl-main"> <pre><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Foxtrot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sigma-9</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Theme</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">2022</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">Theme</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">By</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Liryn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">FONTS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Montserrat</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,800;1,800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Lexend</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@700</span><span class="hl-code">;800&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">JetBrains</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Mono</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Fira</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Code</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@400</span><span class="hl-code">;700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sofia</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">rsms.me</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">inter.css</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">Figtree</span><span class="hl-special">:wght</span><span class="hl-var">@800</span><span class="hl-code">;900&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">IBM</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Plex</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Sans</span><span class="hl-special">:ital</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">wght</span><span class="hl-var">@0</span><span class="hl-code">,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Core</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-title:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SCP Foundation"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-subtitle:</span><span class="hl-code"> "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">darkmode-logo-img:</span><span class="hl-code"> url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">logo-opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">head-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Sans Normalcy'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">ui-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'IBM Plex Sans'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">mono-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira </span><span class="hl-string">Code</span><span class="hl-code">', </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'Inter', 'verdana'</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">base-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">page-font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Misc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">header-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">subheader-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">misc-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#464646</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E6283C</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">link-hover-txt-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Accents</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accent:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-default:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">59</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-wyoming:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">142</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-canada:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--acc-default)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-poland:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">87</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">44</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">17</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-slothspit:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">27</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">133</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-vanguard:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">153</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-threshold:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">121</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">113</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-overwatch:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">28</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">37</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">56</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-spc:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">165</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">acc-fishing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">67</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">111</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-code">; 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/</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">BetterFootnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">fnLinger:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">VARIABLES</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">html</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">scroll-behavior:</span><span class="hl-code"> smooth</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">51</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient(to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#e0e0e0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-rendering:</span><span class="hl-code"> optimizeLegibility</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">break-word</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#content-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">440</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">strong</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--mono-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ol</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-underline-offset:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">900</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">26</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">160</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-img) </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">130</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--logo-opacity)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Search</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-input</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.empty</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#999999</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">47</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.83</span><span class="hl-code">) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">230</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-indent:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.mobile-top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Login</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">19</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.printuser</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img.small</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#my-account</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MAIN</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Header</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">rtl</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#interwiki</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">ltr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#cfcfcf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">pt</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Blockquotes</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Custom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">dashed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f7f7f7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fbfbfb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.quote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.note</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#afafaf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.round</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Titles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.meta-title</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bbb</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Author</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Label</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.authorlink-wrapper</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-top-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-bottom-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">author-right-adjust:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Side</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">visibility:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#f4f4f4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3b3b3b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">15</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.imagediv</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">only</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 600</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#bfbfbf</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Headings</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Captions</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#E0FFD4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#D8ECF4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FDF6D7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFDFCD</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFCFCF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">146</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.tableb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-collapse:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">separate</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">Table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Coloring</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">System</span><span class="hl-code">) > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colored</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Divs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">224</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">212</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">226</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">244</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table3</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">245</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">189</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">223</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">205</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table5</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">207</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.jotting.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.notation.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal.table6</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.paper.table6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">218</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Base</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tabs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Customization</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#efefef</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">WORDS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">NO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BROKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">CROQ</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">HAS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SPOKEY</span><span class="hl-code">. </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">other</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">things</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-break:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">normal</span><span class="hl-code"> !important </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.avatar-hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Dustjacket</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Assets</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyhr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--bright-accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-source:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> round round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-slice:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">500</span><span class="hl-code"> fill</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fancyborder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code"> round</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-image-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">vw</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">underline</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">white</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">7</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--base-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.default-col</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">.item</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.acs-extra-4</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), Inter, </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CONTENT</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Adjustments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.item1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">uppercase</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.class1</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">letter-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">woedbar-class-bar-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.scale</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.obj</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.55</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MISC</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bt</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#444</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">45</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#7b7b7b</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footer-wikiwalk-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">700</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">88</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-options-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">213</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-watch-options</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">77</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-direction:</span><span class="hl-code"> row</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-options-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-info-break</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#5f5f5f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ecf2f1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#d9d9d9</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "."</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (min-width: 768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "tags "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--misc-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inline-block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.3125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">13</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(var(--page-font-size) - </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.625</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.0625</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.1875</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--accent)) </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-style:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> ""</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">left</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.2813</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-tags-input</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">word-spacing:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font), </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">table.form</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> fit-content</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.edit-help-34</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.edit-page-bottomtable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-comments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">86</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "!"</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">60</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">115</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-timer</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "⏲ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">80</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">outline:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-property:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-page-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.text</span><span class="hl-special">:focus-visible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#a3a3a3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">85</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> darkslategrey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#action-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5)></span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">120</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 900</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#who-rated-page-area</span><span class="hl-code">></span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">column-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content-warning.creditRate</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">21</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.preview-message</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">29</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> drop-shadow(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.error-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">255</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">48</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#B00</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-left-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-right-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">6</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2</span><span class="hl-identifier">n</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(var(--accent), </span><span class="hl-number">0.05</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fade</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--link-hover-txt-color)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">default</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--head-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">800</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">155</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">187</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F7F7F7</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.owait</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> loading </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">s linear infinite</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> grey</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">loading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">360</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow.osuccess</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.content</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2)></span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.odialog-shader</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#262a39</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">), </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn.btn-primary</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.button</span><span class="hl-special">:not</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">submit</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">11</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ccc</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#333</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">14</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-diff-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-preview-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-draft-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#eaeaea</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#dbffd6</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#005a0a</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-continue-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-save-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#0d951c</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffe1e1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c52727</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#edit-cancel-button</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#fff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#c5272e</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tbody</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#757575</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fncon</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--page-font-size) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#FFF</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input.checkbox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-history</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#h-perpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">cursor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">pointer</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">textarea</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#breadcrumbs</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pseudocrumbs</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">110</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--ui-font)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">REDUCED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">MOTION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACCESSIBILITY</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (prefers-reduced-motion: </span><span class="hl-identifier">reduce</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-iteration-count:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.001</span><span class="hl-code">s !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@MEDIA</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 850</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 700</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 620</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { font-size: </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">90</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">123</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 520</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">h2:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { line-height: </span><span class="hl-number">16</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9.3</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">145</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> }</span></pre></div> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc0"><span><strong>I</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>John awoke to the sound of singing:</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>O Johnny’s gone to Liverpool,<br/> To Liverpool, that Yankee school!</em></p> <p><em>Those Yankee sailors you'll see there,<br/> With red top-boots and short-cut hair.</em></p> <p><em>O Johnny’s gone to Baltimore<br/> To dance upon that sanded floor!</em></p> <p><em>O Johnny’s gone to Callao;<br/> Those Spanish gals he'll see, I know!</em></p> <p><em>O Johnny’s gone for evermore!<br/> I’ll never see my John no more!</em></p> </div> <p>He opened his eyes. His head was propped against the driftwood, which he had until this moment thought to be a pillow in Site-184’s personnel quarters. A dull pain ached in his abdomen, and he suddenly felt the pangs of hunger.</p> <p>He looked up. He was on the beach, of course. It had been no more than a few hours since he'd stepped through the portal that was a doorframe, gilded in those ominous words, on the ship that shouldn’t exist. The air was brighter than it had been before he slept, but he had no sense of the passage of time; it could be the crack of dawn or the waning light of dusk.</p> <p>He looked to his right; the campfire was long dead, having been snuffed to a thin sheet of black ash. The sand around it was kicked and disturbed, forming little mounds around where heavy boots had once been. John sat up, grimacing through his achiness. Ahead of him was Irving, the hackneyed old fisherman. He was gashing away at the blubber of the carcass, whistling some ancient shanty. John could see a cleaver of sorts in his right hand, rusted through and wrapped in dirty, bloody tape. He was timing his cuts with his song, swinging down forcefully with each rhyme. Sometimes he would stop, rip a chunk of the meat free from the heap, then resume. At his feet were slabs of fatty white viscera and several other sharp, serrated blades. Despite its grizzly nature, the scene was oddly idyllic.</p> <p>John tried to channel the strength to stand but found there was none. The hunger grew sharper, and he let out a stifled groan. Irving must have heard because he stopped his whistling and turned, a grin spreading on his face.</p> <p>“Ah, there you are. Sleep well, did ya?” He dropped the saw soundlessly to the sand and started walking over to where John lay.</p> <p>Crouched on one knee, he said: “Brought you something while you were out. You’re lucky, the Carp don’t usually come up to these waters.” He reached into his coat and pulled out something wrapped in brown paper. He peeled back its layers to reveal a lump of meat, drained of color, steaming in the open air. “Kept it warm for ya.”</p> <p>He handed it to John, who eyed it suspiciously.</p> <p>“It’s good meat,” Irving said. “Had some myself earlier.”</p> <p>Next to the carcass, John spotted other wrappings of brown paper. He took the meat, peeling off a piece, and took a bite. It was tough and salty but tasted fine. A bit like crab mixed with some anonymous white fish. He gagged, and thought of it coming from the same waters that produced the fetid thing across the sand. He downed the rest of the lump, feeling warmth return to his body.</p> <p>“Thanks,” he croaked.</p> <p>“Aye. I was hungry too when I woke. But that was long ago.” He turned to look back at the carcass. “Got a head start on it. It’s a tough one, but it’ll crack like the rest. Two pairs of hands are better than one, but only once you have your strength back.”</p> <p>“What’s it for, the meat?”</p> <p>“Angel meat has all sorts of purposes. For one, it burns like hell, if you can get it to light.” He lifted a greasy canteen from his coat pocket and swished it around. “The oil’s what you want, really. The meat’s no good to eat unless you’re in a real pinch. I’ve got enough Carp to last a week, maybe more.” His tone shifted to a whisper. “The Angel’s flesh is useful, but it's vile stuff. It’s what’s underneath. That’s what we’re after.” His face contorted into an awful grin.</p> <p>At that moment, John was made aware of how little he trusted this man. But his words had pierced his train of thought like an arrow. <em>The bones underneath… the bones… it</em> must <em>have bones, right? So why can’t I…</em></p> <p>“I see that look on your face.” Irving’s smile vanished, and he looked very cold. “It's the look of a madman. The look of people who try to hold it all up here.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “You can’t picture it until you see it with your own eyes. Until then, it's like trying to see a brand-new color. You’ll lose your mind.” He stood up, rubbing his hands against his coat. “It’s hard work getting to the bones. Lots of gristle on this one. Come join me when you got the strength to stand.”</p> <p>He walked off, resuming his carefree song.</p> <p>John heard the distant voice of Randal Karter in his head: <em>Watch this one, Johnny. He’s got the eyes of a jackal. And the tongue to boot.</em> Still, the old man was endearing. He reminded John of his own father, a hardworking man who wanted nothing more in life than a white picket fence. He was an honest man and had worked a job in construction as a foreman. He built buildings he would never have the money to set foot in. Most of the time he was quiet, especially around John. But once or twice, when John had snuck out of class to watch the yellow metal behemoths crush boulders of concrete, he would catch his father on the job, barking orders and tending to the chaos, his eyes ablaze in the mad fervor of work. He recognized the same look in Irving as he hacked away incessantly at the carcass.</p> <p>John pushed up off the ground, head spinning as he fought off a wave of nauseous exhaustion. He covered his nose with his sleeve as he approached Irving. The stench was invasive, and he worried for a brief moment if it would ever wash out of his clothes. Then he remembered his situation and forgot about his need for professionalism. Irving must have sensed him coming because he reached down and lifted one of the spare blades by his feet without turning around or breaking his song.</p> <p>“Careful around the blades… don’t want to cut yourself with that.” A deep gash ran across the carcass, revealing spongy white viscera beneath a thin layer of rubbery skin. Steam emanated from the corpse in hot streaks. Up close, the thing glistened in an alien, iridescent color. Oil poured from wounds where there should have been blood. Irving scraped his hand through the gash, pulling out a fistful of slime. He ran it over the cap of his canteen, collecting some and letting the rest drip to the sand. “There’ll be more than enough for the two of us.” He handed John a rusty saw. “Follow my lead, and don’t forget to breathe.” He gave a wheeze and resumed hacking at the gash.</p> <p>John felt ready to puke.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc1"><span><strong>II</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>The two cut for most of the day. By the time the sky turned the color of ashen smoke, the white meat lay in tall mounds on either side of the men. The whale was eviscerated; what was left of its main body was a slurry, out of which thin bones poked like dead trees on a winter mountainslope. John remembered the surprise he had felt when he first saw them, several hours ago.</p> <p>Irving had peeled back another layer of blubber and gave a sharp yell, as if he had just spotted a rattlesnake curled underneath his bedsheets. John stepped back wearily, wondering if something had gone wrong. “Don’t touch them,” Irving spoke low as if the whale was listening. “Don’t cut the bones; bad luck to cut the bones of an Angel.” He resumed slicing, this time much slower and more methodically. “I think we’re in luck, boy.” He said this as if John was a third-grader who just found a penny on the sidewalk. “This one’s got a pearl, yes it does. A ripe one, ready for picking.”</p> <p>Presently, the bones themselves were beautiful; simple yet elegant. The color of white marble. They looked to be made of ivory or something equally regal. John thought he saw lines of gold running through the bones like blood in veins. The full presence of the beast was greater now, but its true form as it would have appeared in life was still a mystery. The thought of the carcass hurt less now; that had both relieved and terrified him.</p> <p>The two’s pace slowed as the sky darkened. <em>So time does change</em>, John thought. He didn’t want to think about the nights here. He trusted Irving had a plan. John stepped from the carcass for the first time in hours, letting fresher air fill his lungs. He dropped the glossy saw and sat down.</p> <p>Irving was still knee-deep in the viscera, cutting vigorously into the gristle. Something in his posture had changed; he had stopped his cheery song some time ago and was now focused solely on the carnage. He seemed to peer through the flesh of the beast to something beyond. The yellow fervor crept back into his eyes, and he looked truly, undeniably insane. Then he stopped and reached a fist elbow-deep into the slurry. His expression shifted, from madness to surprise to euphoria. With a shout, he hoisted his hand out to reveal something clutched in his fist.</p> <p>“By God, I’ve done it!” He laughed a thunderous laugh, then clambered down to John. “Ol’ Irving’s done it at long last! Damn my old eyes, I’ve got it.” In his hand rested a large, spherical object the size and shape of a billiard ball. It was a dusty rose color, dripping with oil and other fleshy bits. It looked like a pearl and shone with a brilliance John hadn’t seen before.</p> <p>“It feels powerful,” John said, awestruck.</p> <p>“That’s because it is! This here’s a God-pearl, or so the tales go. This thing is eons old, formed in the bellies of the Angels as they drink themselves silly on the souls of men. Some say it holds the power of a star.” He rotated it in his hand. The thing glistened in the fading daylight. “It’s said to bring untold fortune to those brave or foolish enough to go looking for one. Gah, if I were a little younger I could tell you the name of the Angel from the color of this pearl.” He gazed across the span of the beach. “Let's get a fire going, it’s getting cold.”</p> <p>The winds from the sea were picking up, sending gusts of frigid air over the beach. The surf itself was more violent than it was during the day, and John could hear the water breaking on the sand like claps of thunder. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could see black shapes breaching the surface of the sea. It was too dark to know for sure.</p> <p>Irving gathered some bits of damp wood and dirty paper over the ashen remains of the last night’s campfire. He drizzled some of the oil from his canteen over the kindling and pulled out a carton, a blue matchbox with a mermaid printed on it, and lit a match. The fire burst immediately in an explosive flash. The flames shot up almost to John’s eye level, and he reflexively pulled back. Then they subsided and settled at a low murmur. Their color was a bright white, with turquoise undertones. The air around them was quickly brought up to a comfortable temperature, and John finally relaxed.</p> <p>“This will burn all night if we’re lucky,” Irving said. He too relaxed, stripping off his coat and hat and setting them messily against the driftwood. Underneath he wore a black shirt stained by sweat and grime. His arms were scarred by deep slashes, but otherwise lean and muscular. Around his neck, he wore a lace fitted with pale white objects.</p> <p><em>Bones?</em> John thought. <em>Definitely. But too delicate to be a whale</em>. The light of the fire gave Irving eyes of burning coal, and for a moment he looked like a demon. <em>He saved my life. He might keep me alive. But I won’t trust him, not until I get some answers</em>.</p> <p>“Who are you?” John didn’t expect to get a straight answer, but he asked anyway. Irving flashed a confused look.</p> <p>“I told you my name.”</p> <p>“I don’t mean your name. I mean who are you? Why are you here? Why am I here?”</p> <p>“You were called, just as I was many years ago. We have something in common, you and I. It’s why we ended up here and not somewhere up there in the mountains. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about that.”</p> <p>“But <em>why</em>.”</p> <p>“You know why.”</p> <p>“Fuck you,” John muttered under his breath.</p> <p>Irving’s eyes flashed pure steel. “What was that?”</p> <p>“You heard me, you crazy old man!” John was yelling now. “I wake up here cold and alone, you give me a piece of metal and tell me to hack away at that <em>thing</em> all day. You feed me food that might kill me, and you don’t have the decency to give me a straight answer about a Goddamn thing. If we’re going to die out here, then say it. <em>Tell me we’re dead already</em>.” He stood up as if to leave, not sure where to go.</p> <p>Irving shot up to match, his eyes burning with hot fury. Fear shot through John, and he suddenly felt very small.</p> <p>“<em>Keep your voice down, maggot</em>. You’re here because you were called by the void. I see it in your eyes, that wanderlust. All your life you’ve wanted to sail, to lose yourself on that good quest. Well, here you are! You’re looking at it, take it in. You want to go off to die all by your lonesome? You want the sea to steal your breath away? Then go! You wouldn’t be the first.” He ripped his necklace free and dangled the bones over the fire. “Here they are, every sorry sap to crack under the pressure and throw it all away. Me, I’m well acquainted with Lady Death, I’ll put a good word in for you. So what’ll it be? You want to quit? All you have to do is walk out there, and it’ll be done.” He pointed to the pitch-black water. “Make your choice, but do it fast. I’m tired, and I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”</p> <p>John said nothing for a long while. Then he slunk to his knees. Irving was right. Right about everything. He'd felt the lure of the quest all his life. Chasing it had led him this way and that, but now the fishhook had pulled him here, pierced straight through his heart, to this dreaded beach. It was time he admitted that this was what he had always wanted. Irving towered above, and John was reminded of the giant wave he'd seen in his dream. He wondered if they were the same forces.</p> <p>“So it is decided. You’ll stay as long as you can. but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</p> <p>The two sat in silence for some time after. The air was tense, but both felt like a weight had been lifted from their collective shoulders. They were bound by the quest, whatever it might be. And it wouldn’t end until they were both dead, or until they held the world in the palms of their hands.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc2"><span><strong>III</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>They first heard the cry of God in the early hours of the morning, just as the white-colored sun peaked above the jagged teeth of the mountaintops. It sounded different to all people, just as the corpse of the Angel looked to John upon him first seeing it. To his ears, though, the cry sounded how his baby cousin did when she was born: an infant’s wailing, a desperate cry for attention across time and space. It struck John like a bolt of lightning, and he jolted up from his light slumber.</p> <p>Irving was up already, his body locked in a trance as he stared down the beach. In one hand he clutched the rose pearl. In the dim light of the morning, John could see that he was crying.</p> <p>“Never would I think in all my life,” he choked through haggard breaths, “to be graced by the voice of God, that beautiful song of white.” His eyes snapped to John’s. “What do you hear, boy? What is he saying to you?”</p> <p>“He’s crying.” John didn’t know how he should feel about this, so he spoke in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone. He knew it was God, that much was clear. No other voice in the universe could carry so far, so clearly. But what that voice was saying, he could not tell. Irving only nodded, wiping the tears from his cheek.</p> <p>“He’s telling me that I’m ready. That I’ve been good and that I’m ready. Have you any idea what this means?”</p> <p>John shook his head.</p> <p>“It means we’re saved! We’re getting out of here, you and me.” He pointed up the beach, towards the approximate direction of the aimless noise. “Up there, I know not where exactly, but there, up the beach. We’ll find him, my God. And we’ll be free from this madness.”</p> <p>John felt excitement well in him. “You mean to tell me that there’s a way out? A way back?”</p> <p>Irving smiled. “That, and so much more.” He swooped down and retrieved his hat and coat from their spot on the driftwood and stamped out the remains of the dying fire. “Come on, boy. There's no time to wait! Up and at ‘em, <em>hup!</em>” It was as if a festive joy had seized him. Like a kid on Christmas morning.</p> <p>John couldn’t help but feel excited too, but for what he could not say. They grabbed what little they could, some wrappings of food, bottles of oil, and an assortment of Irving’s trinkets (including the God-pearl, which now sang a flush pink), and left the rest strewn around the carcass. As they trailed up the beach, leaving two rows of footprints in the pristine sand, John gave one last look at the place of his rebirth, and the carcass which lay beside it. It could have been a trick of the light, but for a moment it seemed as if the carcass was sinking wholesale into the sand, like a wounded animal in a pit of tar.</p> <p>Irving’s carefree singing once again brought John back into focus:</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>O Johnny’s gone for evermore!<br/> I’ll never see my John no more!</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc3"><span><strong>IV</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>The first thing the two of them came across as they crossed the beach, besides the endless sand, was a body.</p> <p>It was approximately human-shaped and lay flat on its stomach face-down in the direction they were headed. Its skin was a matte gray with speckles of white discoloration. Upon closer inspection, these spots appeared to be small tears, giving way to fresher skin underneath. John pictured a rattlesnake he had seen once at the zoo, curled up as it tore its old skin free from its body.</p> <p>The corpse was naked, its long arms grasping helplessly in front of it as if it was trying to crawl through its final dying breaths. As John traced his eyes from the back of its head to its feet, he noticed that its lower half was buried in the sand. He impulsively kicked around where its feet should be, but discovered that there were none; its body merely ended, as if its legs had been fused together. What looked to be a tail of sorts was revealed during the kick, and John felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He was staring at a mermaid.</p> <p>He held a palm up to his mouth and looked at Irving. The man only looked down with somber reverence. “This one was good in life, aye. A real devotee. It must’ve been called like us. Shame it couldn’t make it.” He squatted next to it and brushed the sand from its shoulders. “Ah well, we’re all soon to die anyway. This one’s swimmin’ with the Angels.”</p> <p>“What was it?” John managed to croak as he choked down the urge to vomit.</p> <p>“Child of God, likely. Well we all are, I suppose, but this one had something to show for it. I’ve seen a few in my time here. Supposedly they spend most their time down there.” He gestured to the expanse of water beside them. “We must be on the right track. A worshipper’s never far from a temple. And where there’s a temple, there’s a God.” A smile crept up his face, and he suddenly looked like a giddy schoolboy again.</p> <p>A little while later, the two spotted something on the horizon. It broke the seamless shore like a black knife, slicing the air in two perfect halves. It was a plume of smoke, black and thick, the kind you see on the evening news after some horrible industrial accident. It shot straight up into the windless sky like a beacon, drawing two moths to a flame.</p> <p>Irving’s face was drained of its color in an instant. His voice quivered as he shot out a hand in the direction of the smoke. “There! Oh Lord, tell me it's not true…” He wobbled forward on shaky knees.</p> <p>John only stood back, confused. “A… fire? Here?”</p> <p>Irving said nothing. His weariness transformed into explosive movement, and he broke into a run, his arms flailing in exasperation. “Tell me it’s not true, please! Tell me!”</p> <p>As the two neared, it was revealed that the smoke emanated from the ruins of a building. The flames, if there were any, were hidden deep between the structure's crumbling bricks. The building rested a few paces from the shoreline, and looked like a small shack of some sort. It was made of faded mud bricks, which stood mostly intact amongst the charred remains of whatever wood was used for its thatched roof and floors. A black shape lay half-buried in the sand some distance from the building, but at this distance John couldn’t tell what it was.</p> <p>Irving’s hysterics calmed once he saw what had been consumed by the phantom fire. His running slowed, and he collapsed to his knees. His panting for breath turned into a strange breed of ravenous laughter. “God is good, Johnny! God is good. It only be a fisherman’s shack. No matter. Fire’s been known to consume indiscriminately; had this been a sacred place, we’d be in some trouble, boy.” He slowly clambered to his feet. “Let’s take a closer look, aye?”</p> <p>Upon inspection, the building was far more unusual than it had appeared from a distance. It was something of a mix between a prairie homestead and a gothic cathedral. Its roof, which had been entirely made of straw or some other perishable material, had burned away completely, leaving only the brickwork skeleton of the main structure. Thick smoke prevented the two from entering the building, although it was strange that no fire was visible, even up close. The half-buried shape revealed itself to be a ship of some kind, long past its function. Its twisted metal poked through the sand in a fashion eerily similar to the carcass of the dead Angel. The two opted to investigate a smaller detachment of the building around back, a few rooms made mostly of wood, which remained untouched by whatever had ravaged the main building.</p> <p>These rooms appeared more homely than the charred brick architecture. Inside was what looked to be a bedroom, kitchen, and study. Upstairs was an attic, empty save for several crates of black, rotten food. The living spaces were mostly spartan, but the study held several bookshelves, filled with old, sunbleached tomes. John flipped through some, only to find he couldn’t make out the language. He did notice several pencil sketches of behemoths emerging from cold seas, screaming to the sky in rage and relief. One book, which looked about ready to crumble, had on its cover an engraving of a dark mountain cloaked in heavy fog, on one side a flat ocean, and on the other a wall of fire. Hidden underneath a pile of blank pages was a hand-drawn sketch of what looked to be the moon, but with patterns John couldn’t recognize.</p> <p>He set down the papers and looked around. Irving, who hadn’t said a word since they'd entered the building, was standing in front of a table at the far end of the study, looking down. John approached cautiously. On the table were cold pools of melted wax amidst a collection of relics. Statuettes of whale-like Gods, blue-gemmed amulets, and, front and center, a bas-relief of a human, arms reaching up in pleading reverence, adorned by a beautiful blue dress that partially masked its grey, sparking cetacean fluke. The thing shone like starlight, even in the dimness of the musky room.</p> <p>Irving spoke nothing of it, and John didn’t ask. The two seemed to be under a mutual understanding; this was a place of holy reverence that had been spared from the fire by some greater force. John felt a wave of inexplicable relief wash over him. He felt like he could gaze at that table for the rest of his life.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc4"><span><strong>V</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>It was Irving who broke the trance of that moment by abruptly clapping his hands, as if concluding some silent prayer. With one final sweep of the musty building, the two set off in the direction of parts unknown.</p> <p>Later, when John noticed the stone of the righthand mountains creeping onto the dusty beach and turning the sand the color of night, he became deeply wondrous of the expanse of the world. It was never something he'd truly considered until now, besides the fleeting moments of panic he felt during his dreams. The existence of the mountains was becoming something more than a backdrop of the beach. They were becoming tangible, a present danger. He couldn’t see much of them, only their jagged teeth when the fog broke every so often, but he felt their presence, their looming sadness. He felt untold anguish, memories wrought into every crevasse, every boulder torn free from its smooth cliff faces. “What’s up there, Irving?”</p> <p>The old man didn’t have to look at where John was pointing to know what he was talking about. “Nothing, Johnny. Not anymore. Never been up there myself, to tell you the truth, but I’ve heard old wives’ tales about those peaks. They say men used to live there, back when the sea was still young, before it birthed God. If you can believe it. Aye, man’s hubris, they say, was what killed the mountainfolk. They say there are ghosts up there, in the caves and the valleys. I don’t buy it, nay. There are ghosts everywhere.”</p> <p>“People lived there? Like, real people?”</p> <p>“So they say. But that was a long time ago. There’s not much in the name of towns anymore.”</p> <p>The silence of the beach was deafening. John could hear the voice of God if he concentrated on the silence, the emptiness between each crash of the waves. But it was so constant, so droning, that he had internalized the sound long ago. It seemed to have become part of him, like the sound of his own breathing or the pulse of his heart.</p> <p>John broke that thunderous silence. “What’s past the mountains?”</p> <p>At this, Irving’s eyes grew wide, and he brought a finger to his lips. “Speak not of the lands beyond. Bad luck, they say. Tis’ a sin to speak of it.” The silence returned with the tide.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc5"><span><strong>VI</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>They reached the end of the beach by late afternoon. What had just been a flat, desolate stretch of polished sand and shallow waves had at once become a dynamic, angry space. Before the two men was a towering cliff face, as sheer as it was tall. It careened over them like an impossible skyscraper, threatening to collapse at the touch of a particularly strong gust of wind. At its base were monstrous waves, tiny in comparison to the total mass of the rock but cyclopean to the men, who were but insects in the face of such unobstructed power. There was no way forward that did not lead to total pulverization by the hungry waves. Each crash of the water upon that rock face was like an explosion, peeling boulders off the cliff like chalk, reeling back, then striking again. In the distance, perhaps above the cliff or maybe beyond, John could see distinct flashes of light that breached the fog and strained his eyes, a blaze that could only mean lightning. The sight was madness, not because it posed any direct danger but because it felt like the first real thing he had seen since he woke.</p> <p>Above the din of the waves and the storm, the two men could hear the pleading cry of something divine, something whose patience was wearing thinner by the hour.</p> <p>“This can’t be the end, nay, God will provide.” Irving was pacing the beach, looking for something to rescue the voyage, to take them beyond this impassable space. He dropped to his hands and knees and began clawing at the sand, chanting the same phrase.</p> <p><em>God will provide, God will provide</em>.</p> <p>Despite the little, pleading, ever-shrinking voice that was his rationality, John felt no doubt about Irving’s words. He merely smiled, thinking of nothing but the moment he might see the mouth from which that divine sound was coming.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc6"><span><strong>VII</strong></span></h3> </div> <p>Across space and time, a ship the color of night caught the scent of the next as it rounded the coast of Greenland. It was closer now, and its iron frame rattled impatiently, but it was not time yet. No, the second was not ready. Not as the one called The Sailor had been. He was ripe for the voyage, the terrible ship thought. The next will not go that easy. And so that Dread Ship would have to wait a little longer, as it had waited eons before.</p> <p>Its ancient pipes rattled, conjuring briefly the face of The Sailor, a newborn plucked from the crib. He would now be on that beach, that endless sand and tide. Somewhere a pipe burst and showered its deck in steam and hot oil like blood from a vein. Another image flashed against its rusty hull. A man, cloaked in yellow, with lines on his face that told a story of madness beyond mortal obsession. Its pistons and pulleys hissed involuntarily, and a mixture of primal rage and fear boiled as it remembered the man it ferried a lifetime ago, a man whose door held two short words and exuded blasphemy like radiation: <em>The Whaler</em>. It howled through gritted teeth made of splintered shrapnel. It will meet those flame-yellow eyes of his once again, in this world or the next.</p> <p>For the rest, it did not matter what happened to the people it ferried across the sea of time. All that mattered to the Dread Ship was the voyage. The first, the second, and then the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, and so on after that. Each must be found, each must be taken, each must be delivered. That was its job.</p> <p>It was very good at its job.</p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-true earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Part I"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-beach-part-i">Part I</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="The Beach"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7900">The Beach</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="TITLE OF NEXT"> <p><a class="newpage" href="/url-of-next">TITLE OF NEXT</a></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-beach-part-ii">The Beach - Part II</a>" by Its a Bad Idea, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-beach-part-ii">https://scpwiki.com/the-beach-part-ii</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[module CSS]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Alegreya:ital,wght@0,400..900;1,400..900&display=swap'); #page-content > p { text-justify: inter-word; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1rem; font-family: "Alegreya", serif; font-size: 1.1rem; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a> dark=a]] [[=]] [[module rate]] [[/=]] [[=]] +++ I [[/=]] John awoke to the sound of singing: [[=]] //O Johnny’s gone to Liverpool, To Liverpool, that Yankee school!// //Those Yankee sailors you'll see there, With red top-boots and short-cut hair.// //O Johnny’s gone to Baltimore To dance upon that sanded floor!// //O Johnny’s gone to Callao; Those Spanish gals he'll see, I know!// //O Johnny’s gone for evermore! I’ll never see my John no more!// [[/=]] He opened his eyes. His head was propped against the driftwood, which he had until this moment thought to be a pillow in Site-184’s personnel quarters. A dull pain ached in his abdomen, and he suddenly felt the pangs of hunger. He looked up. He was on the beach, of course. It had been no more than a few hours since he'd stepped through the portal that was a doorframe, gilded in those ominous words, on the ship that shouldn’t exist. The air was brighter than it had been before he slept, but he had no sense of the passage of time; it could be the crack of dawn or the waning light of dusk. He looked to his right; the campfire was long dead, having been snuffed to a thin sheet of black ash. The sand around it was kicked and disturbed, forming little mounds around where heavy boots had once been. John sat up, grimacing through his achiness. Ahead of him was Irving, the hackneyed old fisherman. He was gashing away at the blubber of the carcass, whistling some ancient shanty. John could see a cleaver of sorts in his right hand, rusted through and wrapped in dirty, bloody tape. He was timing his cuts with his song, swinging down forcefully with each rhyme. Sometimes he would stop, rip a chunk of the meat free from the heap, then resume. At his feet were slabs of fatty white viscera and several other sharp, serrated blades. Despite its grizzly nature, the scene was oddly idyllic. John tried to channel the strength to stand but found there was none. The hunger grew sharper, and he let out a stifled groan. Irving must have heard because he stopped his whistling and turned, a grin spreading on his face. “Ah, there you are. Sleep well, did ya?” He dropped the saw soundlessly to the sand and started walking over to where John lay. Crouched on one knee, he said: “Brought you something while you were out. You’re lucky, the Carp don’t usually come up to these waters.” He reached into his coat and pulled out something wrapped in brown paper. He peeled back its layers to reveal a lump of meat, drained of color, steaming in the open air. “Kept it warm for ya.” He handed it to John, who eyed it suspiciously. “It’s good meat,” Irving said. “Had some myself earlier.” Next to the carcass, John spotted other wrappings of brown paper. He took the meat, peeling off a piece, and took a bite. It was tough and salty but tasted fine. A bit like crab mixed with some anonymous white fish. He gagged, and thought of it coming from the same waters that produced the fetid thing across the sand. He downed the rest of the lump, feeling warmth return to his body. “Thanks,” he croaked. “Aye. I was hungry too when I woke. But that was long ago.” He turned to look back at the carcass. “Got a head start on it. It’s a tough one, but it’ll crack like the rest. Two pairs of hands are better than one, but only once you have your strength back.” “What’s it for, the meat?” “Angel meat has all sorts of purposes. For one, it burns like hell, if you can get it to light.” He lifted a greasy canteen from his coat pocket and swished it around. “The oil’s what you want, really. The meat’s no good to eat unless you’re in a real pinch. I’ve got enough Carp to last a week, maybe more.” His tone shifted to a whisper. “The Angel’s flesh is useful, but it's vile stuff. It’s what’s underneath. That’s what we’re after.” His face contorted into an awful grin. At that moment, John was made aware of how little he trusted this man. But his words had pierced his train of thought like an arrow. //The bones underneath… the bones… it// must //have bones, right? So why can’t I…// “I see that look on your face.” Irving’s smile vanished, and he looked very cold. “It's the look of a madman. The look of people who try to hold it all up here.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “You can’t picture it until you see it with your own eyes. Until then, it's like trying to see a brand-new color. You’ll lose your mind.” He stood up, rubbing his hands against his coat. “It’s hard work getting to the bones. Lots of gristle on this one. Come join me when you got the strength to stand.” He walked off, resuming his carefree song. John heard the distant voice of Randal Karter in his head: //Watch this one, Johnny. He’s got the eyes of a jackal. And the tongue to boot.// Still, the old man was endearing. He reminded John of his own father, a hardworking man who wanted nothing more in life than a white picket fence. He was an honest man and had worked a job in construction as a foreman. He built buildings he would never have the money to set foot in. Most of the time he was quiet, especially around John. But once or twice, when John had snuck out of class to watch the yellow metal behemoths crush boulders of concrete, he would catch his father on the job, barking orders and tending to the chaos, his eyes ablaze in the mad fervor of work. He recognized the same look in Irving as he hacked away incessantly at the carcass. John pushed up off the ground, head spinning as he fought off a wave of nauseous exhaustion. He covered his nose with his sleeve as he approached Irving. The stench was invasive, and he worried for a brief moment if it would ever wash out of his clothes. Then he remembered his situation and forgot about his need for professionalism. Irving must have sensed him coming because he reached down and lifted one of the spare blades by his feet without turning around or breaking his song. “Careful around the blades… don’t want to cut yourself with that.” A deep gash ran across the carcass, revealing spongy white viscera beneath a thin layer of rubbery skin. Steam emanated from the corpse in hot streaks. Up close, the thing glistened in an alien, iridescent color. Oil poured from wounds where there should have been blood. Irving scraped his hand through the gash, pulling out a fistful of slime. He ran it over the cap of his canteen, collecting some and letting the rest drip to the sand. “There’ll be more than enough for the two of us.” He handed John a rusty saw. “Follow my lead, and don’t forget to breathe.” He gave a wheeze and resumed hacking at the gash. John felt ready to puke. [[=]] +++ II [[/=]] The two cut for most of the day. By the time the sky turned the color of ashen smoke, the white meat lay in tall mounds on either side of the men. The whale was eviscerated; what was left of its main body was a slurry, out of which thin bones poked like dead trees on a winter mountainslope. John remembered the surprise he had felt when he first saw them, several hours ago. Irving had peeled back another layer of blubber and gave a sharp yell, as if he had just spotted a rattlesnake curled underneath his bedsheets. John stepped back wearily, wondering if something had gone wrong. “Don’t touch them,” Irving spoke low as if the whale was listening. “Don’t cut the bones; bad luck to cut the bones of an Angel.” He resumed slicing, this time much slower and more methodically. “I think we’re in luck, boy.” He said this as if John was a third-grader who just found a penny on the sidewalk. “This one’s got a pearl, yes it does. A ripe one, ready for picking.” Presently, the bones themselves were beautiful; simple yet elegant. The color of white marble. They looked to be made of ivory or something equally regal. John thought he saw lines of gold running through the bones like blood in veins. The full presence of the beast was greater now, but its true form as it would have appeared in life was still a mystery. The thought of the carcass hurt less now; that had both relieved and terrified him. The two’s pace slowed as the sky darkened. //So time does change//, John thought. He didn’t want to think about the nights here. He trusted Irving had a plan. John stepped from the carcass for the first time in hours, letting fresher air fill his lungs. He dropped the glossy saw and sat down. Irving was still knee-deep in the viscera, cutting vigorously into the gristle. Something in his posture had changed; he had stopped his cheery song some time ago and was now focused solely on the carnage. He seemed to peer through the flesh of the beast to something beyond. The yellow fervor crept back into his eyes, and he looked truly, undeniably insane. Then he stopped and reached a fist elbow-deep into the slurry. His expression shifted, from madness to surprise to euphoria. With a shout, he hoisted his hand out to reveal something clutched in his fist. “By God, I’ve done it!” He laughed a thunderous laugh, then clambered down to John. “Ol’ Irving’s done it at long last! Damn my old eyes, I’ve got it.” In his hand rested a large, spherical object the size and shape of a billiard ball. It was a dusty rose color, dripping with oil and other fleshy bits. It looked like a pearl and shone with a brilliance John hadn’t seen before. “It feels powerful,” John said, awestruck. “That’s because it is! This here’s a God-pearl, or so the tales go. This thing is eons old, formed in the bellies of the Angels as they drink themselves silly on the souls of men. Some say it holds the power of a star.” He rotated it in his hand. The thing glistened in the fading daylight. “It’s said to bring untold fortune to those brave or foolish enough to go looking for one. Gah, if I were a little younger I could tell you the name of the Angel from the color of this pearl.” He gazed across the span of the beach. “Let's get a fire going, it’s getting cold.” The winds from the sea were picking up, sending gusts of frigid air over the beach. The surf itself was more violent than it was during the day, and John could hear the water breaking on the sand like claps of thunder. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could see black shapes breaching the surface of the sea. It was too dark to know for sure. Irving gathered some bits of damp wood and dirty paper over the ashen remains of the last night’s campfire. He drizzled some of the oil from his canteen over the kindling and pulled out a carton, a blue matchbox with a mermaid printed on it, and lit a match. The fire burst immediately in an explosive flash. The flames shot up almost to John’s eye level, and he reflexively pulled back. Then they subsided and settled at a low murmur. Their color was a bright white, with turquoise undertones. The air around them was quickly brought up to a comfortable temperature, and John finally relaxed. “This will burn all night if we’re lucky,” Irving said. He too relaxed, stripping off his coat and hat and setting them messily against the driftwood. Underneath he wore a black shirt stained by sweat and grime. His arms were scarred by deep slashes, but otherwise lean and muscular. Around his neck, he wore a lace fitted with pale white objects. //Bones?// John thought. //Definitely. But too delicate to be a whale//. The light of the fire gave Irving eyes of burning coal, and for a moment he looked like a demon. //He saved my life. He might keep me alive. But I won’t trust him, not until I get some answers//. “Who are you?” John didn’t expect to get a straight answer, but he asked anyway. Irving flashed a confused look. “I told you my name.” “I don’t mean your name. I mean who are you? Why are you here? Why am I here?” “You were called, just as I was many years ago. We have something in common, you and I. It’s why we ended up here and not somewhere up there in the mountains. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about that.” “But //why//.” “You know why.” “Fuck you,” John muttered under his breath. Irving’s eyes flashed pure steel. “What was that?” “You heard me, you crazy old man!” John was yelling now. “I wake up here cold and alone, you give me a piece of metal and tell me to hack away at that //thing// all day. You feed me food that might kill me, and you don’t have the decency to give me a straight answer about a Goddamn thing. If we’re going to die out here, then say it. //Tell me we’re dead already//.” He stood up as if to leave, not sure where to go. Irving shot up to match, his eyes burning with hot fury. Fear shot through John, and he suddenly felt very small. “//Keep your voice down, maggot//. You’re here because you were called by the void. I see it in your eyes, that wanderlust. All your life you’ve wanted to sail, to lose yourself on that good quest. Well, here you are! You’re looking at it, take it in. You want to go off to die all by your lonesome? You want the sea to steal your breath away? Then go! You wouldn’t be the first.” He ripped his necklace free and dangled the bones over the fire. “Here they are, every sorry sap to crack under the pressure and throw it all away. Me, I’m well acquainted with Lady Death, I’ll put a good word in for you. So what’ll it be? You want to quit? All you have to do is walk out there, and it’ll be done.” He pointed to the pitch-black water. “Make your choice, but do it fast. I’m tired, and I’ve got a long day tomorrow.” John said nothing for a long while. Then he slunk to his knees. Irving was right. Right about everything. He'd felt the lure of the quest all his life. Chasing it had led him this way and that, but now the fishhook had pulled him here, pierced straight through his heart, to this dreaded beach. It was time he admitted that this was what he had always wanted. Irving towered above, and John was reminded of the giant wave he'd seen in his dream. He wondered if they were the same forces. “So it is decided. You’ll stay as long as you can. but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The two sat in silence for some time after. The air was tense, but both felt like a weight had been lifted from their collective shoulders. They were bound by the quest, whatever it might be. And it wouldn’t end until they were both dead, or until they held the world in the palms of their hands. [[=]] +++ III [[/=]] They first heard the cry of God in the early hours of the morning, just as the white-colored sun peaked above the jagged teeth of the mountaintops. It sounded different to all people, just as the corpse of the Angel looked to John upon him first seeing it. To his ears, though, the cry sounded how his baby cousin did when she was born: an infant’s wailing, a desperate cry for attention across time and space. It struck John like a bolt of lightning, and he jolted up from his light slumber. Irving was up already, his body locked in a trance as he stared down the beach. In one hand he clutched the rose pearl. In the dim light of the morning, John could see that he was crying. “Never would I think in all my life,” he choked through haggard breaths, “to be graced by the voice of God, that beautiful song of white.” His eyes snapped to John’s. “What do you hear, boy? What is he saying to you?” “He’s crying.” John didn’t know how he should feel about this, so he spoke in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone. He knew it was God, that much was clear. No other voice in the universe could carry so far, so clearly. But what that voice was saying, he could not tell. Irving only nodded, wiping the tears from his cheek. “He’s telling me that I’m ready. That I’ve been good and that I’m ready. Have you any idea what this means?” John shook his head. “It means we’re saved! We’re getting out of here, you and me.” He pointed up the beach, towards the approximate direction of the aimless noise. “Up there, I know not where exactly, but there, up the beach. We’ll find him, my God. And we’ll be free from this madness.” John felt excitement well in him. “You mean to tell me that there’s a way out? A way back?” Irving smiled. “That, and so much more.” He swooped down and retrieved his hat and coat from their spot on the driftwood and stamped out the remains of the dying fire. “Come on, boy. There's no time to wait! Up and at ‘em, //hup!//” It was as if a festive joy had seized him. Like a kid on Christmas morning. John couldn’t help but feel excited too, but for what he could not say. They grabbed what little they could, some wrappings of food, bottles of oil, and an assortment of Irving’s trinkets (including the God-pearl, which now sang a flush pink), and left the rest strewn around the carcass. As they trailed up the beach, leaving two rows of footprints in the pristine sand, John gave one last look at the place of his rebirth, and the carcass which lay beside it. It could have been a trick of the light, but for a moment it seemed as if the carcass was sinking wholesale into the sand, like a wounded animal in a pit of tar. Irving’s carefree singing once again brought John back into focus: [[=]] //O Johnny’s gone for evermore! I’ll never see my John no more!// [[/=]] [[=]] +++ IV [[/=]] The first thing the two of them came across as they crossed the beach, besides the endless sand, was a body. It was approximately human-shaped and lay flat on its stomach face-down in the direction they were headed. Its skin was a matte gray with speckles of white discoloration. Upon closer inspection, these spots appeared to be small tears, giving way to fresher skin underneath. John pictured a rattlesnake he had seen once at the zoo, curled up as it tore its old skin free from its body. The corpse was naked, its long arms grasping helplessly in front of it as if it was trying to crawl through its final dying breaths. As John traced his eyes from the back of its head to its feet, he noticed that its lower half was buried in the sand. He impulsively kicked around where its feet should be, but discovered that there were none; its body merely ended, as if its legs had been fused together. What looked to be a tail of sorts was revealed during the kick, and John felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He was staring at a mermaid. He held a palm up to his mouth and looked at Irving. The man only looked down with somber reverence. “This one was good in life, aye. A real devotee. It must’ve been called like us. Shame it couldn’t make it.” He squatted next to it and brushed the sand from its shoulders. “Ah well, we’re all soon to die anyway. This one’s swimmin’ with the Angels.” “What was it?” John managed to croak as he choked down the urge to vomit. “Child of God, likely. Well we all are, I suppose, but this one had something to show for it. I’ve seen a few in my time here. Supposedly they spend most their time down there.” He gestured to the expanse of water beside them. “We must be on the right track. A worshipper’s never far from a temple. And where there’s a temple, there’s a God.” A smile crept up his face, and he suddenly looked like a giddy schoolboy again. A little while later, the two spotted something on the horizon. It broke the seamless shore like a black knife, slicing the air in two perfect halves. It was a plume of smoke, black and thick, the kind you see on the evening news after some horrible industrial accident. It shot straight up into the windless sky like a beacon, drawing two moths to a flame. Irving’s face was drained of its color in an instant. His voice quivered as he shot out a hand in the direction of the smoke. “There! Oh Lord, tell me it's not true…” He wobbled forward on shaky knees. John only stood back, confused. “A… fire? Here?” Irving said nothing. His weariness transformed into explosive movement, and he broke into a run, his arms flailing in exasperation. “Tell me it’s not true, please! Tell me!” As the two neared, it was revealed that the smoke emanated from the ruins of a building. The flames, if there were any, were hidden deep between the structure's crumbling bricks. The building rested a few paces from the shoreline, and looked like a small shack of some sort. It was made of faded mud bricks, which stood mostly intact amongst the charred remains of whatever wood was used for its thatched roof and floors. A black shape lay half-buried in the sand some distance from the building, but at this distance John couldn’t tell what it was. Irving’s hysterics calmed once he saw what had been consumed by the phantom fire. His running slowed, and he collapsed to his knees. His panting for breath turned into a strange breed of ravenous laughter. “God is good, Johnny! God is good. It only be a fisherman’s shack. No matter. Fire’s been known to consume indiscriminately; had this been a sacred place, we’d be in some trouble, boy.” He slowly clambered to his feet. “Let’s take a closer look, aye?” Upon inspection, the building was far more unusual than it had appeared from a distance. It was something of a mix between a prairie homestead and a gothic cathedral. Its roof, which had been entirely made of straw or some other perishable material, had burned away completely, leaving only the brickwork skeleton of the main structure. Thick smoke prevented the two from entering the building, although it was strange that no fire was visible, even up close. The half-buried shape revealed itself to be a ship of some kind, long past its function. Its twisted metal poked through the sand in a fashion eerily similar to the carcass of the dead Angel. The two opted to investigate a smaller detachment of the building around back, a few rooms made mostly of wood, which remained untouched by whatever had ravaged the main building. These rooms appeared more homely than the charred brick architecture. Inside was what looked to be a bedroom, kitchen, and study. Upstairs was an attic, empty save for several crates of black, rotten food. The living spaces were mostly spartan, but the study held several bookshelves, filled with old, sunbleached tomes. John flipped through some, only to find he couldn’t make out the language. He did notice several pencil sketches of behemoths emerging from cold seas, screaming to the sky in rage and relief. One book, which looked about ready to crumble, had on its cover an engraving of a dark mountain cloaked in heavy fog, on one side a flat ocean, and on the other a wall of fire. Hidden underneath a pile of blank pages was a hand-drawn sketch of what looked to be the moon, but with patterns John couldn’t recognize. He set down the papers and looked around. Irving, who hadn’t said a word since they'd entered the building, was standing in front of a table at the far end of the study, looking down. John approached cautiously. On the table were cold pools of melted wax amidst a collection of relics. Statuettes of whale-like Gods, blue-gemmed amulets, and, front and center, a bas-relief of a human, arms reaching up in pleading reverence, adorned by a beautiful blue dress that partially masked its grey, sparking cetacean fluke. The thing shone like starlight, even in the dimness of the musky room. Irving spoke nothing of it, and John didn’t ask. The two seemed to be under a mutual understanding; this was a place of holy reverence that had been spared from the fire by some greater force. John felt a wave of inexplicable relief wash over him. He felt like he could gaze at that table for the rest of his life. [[=]] +++ V [[/=]] It was Irving who broke the trance of that moment by abruptly clapping his hands, as if concluding some silent prayer. With one final sweep of the musty building, the two set off in the direction of parts unknown. Later, when John noticed the stone of the righthand mountains creeping onto the dusty beach and turning the sand the color of night, he became deeply wondrous of the expanse of the world. It was never something he'd truly considered until now, besides the fleeting moments of panic he felt during his dreams. The existence of the mountains was becoming something more than a backdrop of the beach. They were becoming tangible, a present danger. He couldn’t see much of them, only their jagged teeth when the fog broke every so often, but he felt their presence, their looming sadness. He felt untold anguish, memories wrought into every crevasse, every boulder torn free from its smooth cliff faces. “What’s up there, Irving?” The old man didn’t have to look at where John was pointing to know what he was talking about. “Nothing, Johnny. Not anymore. Never been up there myself, to tell you the truth, but I’ve heard old wives’ tales about those peaks. They say men used to live there, back when the sea was still young, before it birthed God. If you can believe it. Aye, man’s hubris, they say, was what killed the mountainfolk. They say there are ghosts up there, in the caves and the valleys. I don’t buy it, nay. There are ghosts everywhere.” “People lived there? Like, real people?” “So they say. But that was a long time ago. There’s not much in the name of towns anymore.” The silence of the beach was deafening. John could hear the voice of God if he concentrated on the silence, the emptiness between each crash of the waves. But it was so constant, so droning, that he had internalized the sound long ago. It seemed to have become part of him, like the sound of his own breathing or the pulse of his heart. John broke that thunderous silence. “What’s past the mountains?” At this, Irving’s eyes grew wide, and he brought a finger to his lips. “Speak not of the lands beyond. Bad luck, they say. Tis’ a sin to speak of it.” The silence returned with the tide. [[=]] +++ VI [[/=]] They reached the end of the beach by late afternoon. What had just been a flat, desolate stretch of polished sand and shallow waves had at once become a dynamic, angry space. Before the two men was a towering cliff face, as sheer as it was tall. It careened over them like an impossible skyscraper, threatening to collapse at the touch of a particularly strong gust of wind. At its base were monstrous waves, tiny in comparison to the total mass of the rock but cyclopean to the men, who were but insects in the face of such unobstructed power. There was no way forward that did not lead to total pulverization by the hungry waves. Each crash of the water upon that rock face was like an explosion, peeling boulders off the cliff like chalk, reeling back, then striking again. In the distance, perhaps above the cliff or maybe beyond, John could see distinct flashes of light that breached the fog and strained his eyes, a blaze that could only mean lightning. The sight was madness, not because it posed any direct danger but because it felt like the first real thing he had seen since he woke. Above the din of the waves and the storm, the two men could hear the pleading cry of something divine, something whose patience was wearing thinner by the hour. “This can’t be the end, nay, God will provide.” Irving was pacing the beach, looking for something to rescue the voyage, to take them beyond this impassable space. He dropped to his hands and knees and began clawing at the sand, chanting the same phrase. //God will provide, God will provide//. Despite the little, pleading, ever-shrinking voice that was his rationality, John felt no doubt about Irving’s words. He merely smiled, thinking of nothing but the moment he might see the mouth from which that divine sound was coming. [[=]] +++ VII [[/=]] Across space and time, a ship the color of night caught the scent of the next as it rounded the coast of Greenland. It was closer now, and its iron frame rattled impatiently, but it was not time yet. No, the second was not ready. Not as the one called The Sailor had been. He was ripe for the voyage, the terrible ship thought. The next will not go that easy. And so that Dread Ship would have to wait a little longer, as it had waited eons before. Its ancient pipes rattled, conjuring briefly the face of The Sailor, a newborn plucked from the crib. He would now be on that beach, that endless sand and tide. Somewhere a pipe burst and showered its deck in steam and hot oil like blood from a vein. Another image flashed against its rusty hull. A man, cloaked in yellow, with lines on his face that told a story of madness beyond mortal obsession. Its pistons and pulleys hissed involuntarily, and a mixture of primal rage and fear boiled as it remembered the man it ferried a lifetime ago, a man whose door held two short words and exuded blasphemy like radiation: //The Whaler//. It howled through gritted teeth made of splintered shrapnel. It will meet those flame-yellow eyes of his once again, in this world or the next. For the rest, it did not matter what happened to the people it ferried across the sea of time. All that mattered to the Dread Ship was the voyage. The first, the second, and then the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, and so on after that. Each must be found, each must be taken, each must be delivered. That was its job. It was very good at its job. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=true \| hub=yes \| previous-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-beach-part-i \| previous-title=Part I \| next-url=URL_OF_NEXT \| next-title=TITLE OF NEXT \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7900 \| hub-title=The Beach ]] ------ [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] [[/<]] ---- ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-01-28T20:14:00	[ "_licensebox", "fantasy", "featured", "otherworldly", "religious-fiction", "tale" ]	The Beach - Part II - SCP Foundation	77	[ "the-beach-part-i", "scp-7900", "url-of-next", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-site-184", "featured-tale-archive-ii" ]	[]	1445786900	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-beach-part-ii
the-bears	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Gather, gather around my dears. Find a seat, for the play is about to begin! Do listen closely for the grandest story you may ever bear witness to — told with the grandeur of a bygone time.</p> <hr/> <p>Once upon a time, there were three bears, who lived in a small cottage deep in the woods. There was the Great Big Bear, whose grandiose presence could be felt throughout every corner of the pines — yes, what a spectacle is he! His hard and gruff exterior could give way to the warmest heart you ever did see. Then there was the Middle-Sized Bear, whose calm and tranquility could be felt all around, like a soothing whisper on the wind. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone more bubbly than her. Finally, there was the Littlest Bear, who was just right. Together they lived, in their perfectly lovely home, in their perfectly tended woods, and together they lived a perfectly polite and well-mannered existence.</p> <p>Then one fateful day, along came… oh, how hasty of me, I've nearly forgotten myself! Now children, I'm going to need one volunteer from the audience! Now, now, calm down! I know it's exciting. Hmm, how about… ah! Yes, you young lady, don't be shy! Come on up, we'll take it from the top.</p> <p>Then one fateful day, along came a girl from the far off reaches of the woods. Sent on a errand by her mother, she had long since strayed from her path and soon passed by the bears' cottage. Curious, she tread her way around it, not realizing the bears had just left on their midday pre-breakfast stroll, as all good-natured bears are to do. She knocked and knocked on the door to no answer. Now any child — yes, any of you — who is polite and considerate may have considered waiting until the bears returned. Perhaps they would have been invited inside for a delicious meal as well before being send on their merry way; for the bears were most hospitable, as the manner of a well-mannered bear is.</p> <p>But this was not one of those children, for she was not a very well-brought-up girl.</p> <p>She set to pacing around the home, peering through every nook and cranny in the woodwork. Curiosity still unsated, the girl peered through the keyhole. She gave the latch a swift pull and the door obliged with a hearty groan, unaware of what it had just set upon the residence.</p> <p>From the dim light past the yawning entrance, a delicious smell wafted through the air carried on warm winds from deep within the abode. Without even wiping her feet, she stormed in, making a mud-tracked beeline directly for the bears' kitchen. Sitting on the table were three delicious meals of forest porridge. How pleased was she when she saw them, and the impolite girl set about helping herself immediately. She grabbed the first bowl, a great big dish for the Great Big Bear. Steam poured from the dish as it reached her lips; how hot it was! Much too hot for her, and she moved onto the medium-sized bowl. She took up the dish and immediately put it down. Clearly too cold for her liking, she thought, coughing and sputtering all the while. Finally she grabbed the smallest one, the bowl of the Littlest Bear. The spoon reached her lips and she couldn't believe it — the dish was just right! The girl greedily ate all of the porridge, every last bit of it!</p> <p>She ate <em>all</em> of it.</p> <p>Splendid. After that delicious meal, the girl was rather tired. After all, she had spent the past few hours frolicking through the woods and chasing butterflies instead of doing as her mother had asked. She wandered back into the home, looking f- oh. She wandered back towards the entrance, to look see if the home's occupants had returned, catching her in the act. Thankfully for the girl, the door was shut tight, so her misdoings would continue unabated. Certainly she'd be here for a while longer. She wandered back towards the inside of the house, yawning all the while, until she reached the bears' lovely den.</p> <p>Before her stood three chairs, each inviting her to relax and laze away the day. First, she approached the largest chair. Scampering up the grand construction, she climbed atop the chair only to find it much too hard to properly loaf about. The girl slid back down before plopping herself onto the most medium-sized chair. In a flash she got back up. Clearly the chair was far squishier that expected, so much so it almost seemed to melt before her very eyes, growing less and less cohesive by the second. Yes, that chair was much too soft for her. After taking a moment to recuperate she tried the final chair, a chair of seemingly perfect size for her; and of perfect size it was! Yes, this chair was just right, its arms and stitching seemed to almost pulse with satisfaction — just look at that face of excitement!</p> <p>She loved the chair so much, she sat in it until she felt right through to the floor! The contents of the chair went skittering across the floor, darting into the shadows of the room. Her face turned sour, certainly for she was a very ill-tempered little girl. So ill-tempered was she, the girl immediately trudged up the stairs, determined to rest.</p> <p>She went up the stairs.</p> <p>Now.</p> <p>Yes, the girl was simply shaking with determination. Her steps echoed through the stairwell as she ascended, step by shuttering step. Eventually she reached the top, arriving in the bears' bedchamber. Before her stood a mountainous red structure, its form dwarfing the rest of the room in its grand swirling shadow. It must have been the largest bed the girl had ever seen. The sight of the bed sent her reeling, but then she began to climb. Up and up she went, grasping and pulling herself inch by inch. Looking down the bed seemed to tower above the floor! Her vision swam as she could climb no longer, sliding back down all the way to the floor. Clearly, this bed was much too tall for her.</p> <p>She approached her second option, a round medium-sized bed. She carelessly flopped into the center, hoping this would finally be where she could while away the day. Instead, why, she sank directly into it! Like a mule in mud, she pulled and pulled at the bed's surface, each handful giving way to more and more drooping mass. Her clambering finally gave way as she breached the surface, sputtering and gasping until she finally escaped it's grasp. Yes, this bed was much too deep for her.</p> <p>Finally, so exhausted from her many misdeeds, she laid upon the final bed. A tiny bed, the littlest of them all. This must be it — the perfect place to lay her head down and catch some rest. A miracle indeed, this bed was just right! It perfectly cradled her form as the bed let out a deep sigh, molding itself to carry her into the land of slumber. The gentle thrum betwixt the stitching was the last thing she hear before she drifted off into a deep sleep.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Nightfall.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The girl jolted awake. How long had she been sleeping was anyone's guess. The gentle moonlight of the open window next to her was the only illumination she had into the cottage, the cool breeze from just over the treetops sending a chill down her spine. That, and the gentle red glow of something on the far end of the room. Bleary-eyed and groggy, the girl rubbed her temple and tried to focus on the light. The soft red throb of the glow echoed through her skull as her eyes adjusted. She stared at the ebb and rise of the light for who knows how long and was only interrupted by the register of a low prolonged rumble throughout the room. Slowly, the rumble grew, ebbing and rising just as the light did, but it was nevertheless growing. As this crossed her mind, the light grew, and grew, until she could just make out the jagged teeth surrounding it.</p> <p>It would seem the bears had finally returned home, and they were not very pleased to have an uninvited guest.</p> <p>The Great Big Bear towered over her from the other end of the room, his body engulfing the far wall as he stared at her with hardened eyes. Beneath them an open mouth emitting the same red glow and low rumble — lined with bloody exposed gums and filled with a blistering fire. Under the glow his body seemed to stretch on forever, miles of ragged fur and exposed sinew, all rippling in time with that deep growl. In front of him, the Medium-Sized Bear. The cool night breeze that once chilled the girl's form was replaced with a putrid wind that brought tears to her eyes and a gag to her lips. The bear was slumped over, glazed eyes peered at her from sloughing skin. It was almost as if her very form was seconds away from peeling away from whatever held it still, left to flow across the wooden floor. The last form, finally coming into focus, stood at the very foot of her bed. The Littlest Bear. A creation to be remembered. Every single stitch in its form pulsed with life and vitality, every inch of flesh wriggling with a will to be known! It hung perfectly in the moonlight, a shining star in this house of the dead.</p> <p>The three bears stood still in the silence of the night, the air bathed in only the Great Big Bear's growl. Surely, the girl knew her fate had been sealed — her disrespectful ways had finally led her to the end of the road. Seeing no other option, the girl prepared to once again abandon her responsibilities and flee into the night and leapt for the open window. Unfortunately for her, her movements were clumsy and slow, scrambling wildly as she tried to escape her punishment. The Littlest Bear, on the other hand, was just right, and made it there first.</p> <hr/> <p>Little is known what happened to the naughty little girl after that. Some say that the bears caught her and gave her a good scolding for her ill-gotten gains. Others say she managed to evade her punishment, only to become helplessly lost in the woods. All that is known is that the bears were able to live a well-mannered and peaceful life after such a dreadful event, and that the little girl would simply know peace nevermore.</p> <p>That, children, is the story of the three bears. I do hope that- yes, yes, do calm down! It's but a story! I do hope that you will keep this lesson in mind and keep good in your day-to-day lives. Your worry is for naught, as you will soon see the little girl is no longer such a miscreant as she once was — I myself would even consider her to be just right indeed! Ah, no matter.</p> <p>Until next time children! Be sure to tell all what you've learned today — and be sure to keep yourselves out of trouble.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-bears">The Bears</a>" by Deadly Bread, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-bears">https://scpwiki.com/the-bears</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> header4.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Exit Light<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/195755885@N07/">SynthPanda_</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/195755885@N07/53096279303/">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> header4.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Peeping Tom .jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> TheLegendsOfOld<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peeping_Tom_.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-archive">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-archive</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] [[image header4.png width="1200"]] [[/=]] Gather, gather around my dears. Find a seat, for the play is about to begin! Do listen closely for the grandest story you may ever bear witness to — told with the grandeur of a bygone time. ----- Once upon a time, there were three bears, who lived in a small cottage deep in the woods. There was the Great Big Bear, whose grandiose presence could be felt throughout every corner of the pines — yes, what a spectacle is he! His hard and gruff exterior could give way to the warmest heart you ever did see. Then there was the Middle-Sized Bear, whose calm and tranquility could be felt all around, like a soothing whisper on the wind. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone more bubbly than her. Finally, there was the Littlest Bear, who was just right. Together they lived, in their perfectly lovely home, in their perfectly tended woods, and together they lived a perfectly polite and well-mannered existence. Then one fateful day, along came... oh, how hasty of me, I've nearly forgotten myself! Now children, I'm going to need one volunteer from the audience! Now, now, calm down! I know it's exciting. Hmm, how about... ah! Yes, you young lady, don't be shy! Come on up, we'll take it from the top. Then one fateful day, along came a girl from the far off reaches of the woods. Sent on a errand by her mother, she had long since strayed from her path and soon passed by the bears' cottage. Curious, she tread her way around it, not realizing the bears had just left on their midday pre-breakfast stroll, as all good-natured bears are to do. She knocked and knocked on the door to no answer. Now any child — yes, any of you — who is polite and considerate may have considered waiting until the bears returned. Perhaps they would have been invited inside for a delicious meal as well before being send on their merry way; for the bears were most hospitable, as the manner of a well-mannered bear is. But this was not one of those children, for she was not a very well-brought-up girl. She set to pacing around the home, peering through every nook and cranny in the woodwork. Curiosity still unsated, the girl peered through the keyhole. She gave the latch a swift pull and the door obliged with a hearty groan, unaware of what it had just set upon the residence. From the dim light past the yawning entrance, a delicious smell wafted through the air carried on warm winds from deep within the abode. Without even wiping her feet, she stormed in, making a mud-tracked beeline directly for the bears' kitchen. Sitting on the table were three delicious meals of forest porridge. How pleased was she when she saw them, and the impolite girl set about helping herself immediately. She grabbed the first bowl, a great big dish for the Great Big Bear. Steam poured from the dish as it reached her lips; how hot it was! Much too hot for her, and she moved onto the medium-sized bowl. She took up the dish and immediately put it down. Clearly too cold for her liking, she thought, coughing and sputtering all the while. Finally she grabbed the smallest one, the bowl of the Littlest Bear. The spoon reached her lips and she couldn't believe it — the dish was just right! The girl greedily ate all of the porridge, every last bit of it! She ate //all// of it. Splendid. After that delicious meal, the girl was rather tired. After all, she had spent the past few hours frolicking through the woods and chasing butterflies instead of doing as her mother had asked. She wandered back into the home, looking f- oh. She wandered back towards the entrance, to look see if the home's occupants had returned, catching her in the act. Thankfully for the girl, the door was shut tight, so her misdoings would continue unabated. Certainly she'd be here for a while longer. She wandered back towards the inside of the house, yawning all the while, until she reached the bears' lovely den. Before her stood three chairs, each inviting her to relax and laze away the day. First, she approached the largest chair. Scampering up the grand construction, she climbed atop the chair only to find it much too hard to properly loaf about. The girl slid back down before plopping herself onto the most medium-sized chair. In a flash she got back up. Clearly the chair was far squishier that expected, so much so it almost seemed to melt before her very eyes, growing less and less cohesive by the second. Yes, that chair was much too soft for her. After taking a moment to recuperate she tried the final chair, a chair of seemingly perfect size for her; and of perfect size it was! Yes, this chair was just right, its arms and stitching seemed to almost pulse with satisfaction — just look at that face of excitement! She loved the chair so much, she sat in it until she felt right through to the floor! The contents of the chair went skittering across the floor, darting into the shadows of the room. Her face turned sour, certainly for she was a very ill-tempered little girl. So ill-tempered was she, the girl immediately trudged up the stairs, determined to rest. She went up the stairs. Now. Yes, the girl was simply shaking with determination. Her steps echoed through the stairwell as she ascended, step by shuttering step. Eventually she reached the top, arriving in the bears' bedchamber. Before her stood a mountainous red structure, its form dwarfing the rest of the room in its grand swirling shadow. It must have been the largest bed the girl had ever seen. The sight of the bed sent her reeling, but then she began to climb. Up and up she went, grasping and pulling herself inch by inch. Looking down the bed seemed to tower above the floor! Her vision swam as she could climb no longer, sliding back down all the way to the floor. Clearly, this bed was much too tall for her. She approached her second option, a round medium-sized bed. She carelessly flopped into the center, hoping this would finally be where she could while away the day. Instead, why, she sank directly into it! Like a mule in mud, she pulled and pulled at the bed's surface, each handful giving way to more and more drooping mass. Her clambering finally gave way as she breached the surface, sputtering and gasping until she finally escaped it's grasp. Yes, this bed was much too deep for her. Finally, so exhausted from her many misdeeds, she laid upon the final bed. A tiny bed, the littlest of them all. This must be it — the perfect place to lay her head down and catch some rest. A miracle indeed, this bed was just right! It perfectly cradled her form as the bed let out a deep sigh, molding itself to carry her into the land of slumber. The gentle thrum betwixt the stitching was the last thing she hear before she drifted off into a deep sleep. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Nightfall. @@ @@ The girl jolted awake. How long had she been sleeping was anyone's guess. The gentle moonlight of the open window next to her was the only illumination she had into the cottage, the cool breeze from just over the treetops sending a chill down her spine. That, and the gentle red glow of something on the far end of the room. Bleary-eyed and groggy, the girl rubbed her temple and tried to focus on the light. The soft red throb of the glow echoed through her skull as her eyes adjusted. She stared at the ebb and rise of the light for who knows how long and was only interrupted by the register of a low prolonged rumble throughout the room. Slowly, the rumble grew, ebbing and rising just as the light did, but it was nevertheless growing. As this crossed her mind, the light grew, and grew, until she could just make out the jagged teeth surrounding it. It would seem the bears had finally returned home, and they were not very pleased to have an uninvited guest. The Great Big Bear towered over her from the other end of the room, his body engulfing the far wall as he stared at her with hardened eyes. Beneath them an open mouth emitting the same red glow and low rumble — lined with bloody exposed gums and filled with a blistering fire. Under the glow his body seemed to stretch on forever, miles of ragged fur and exposed sinew, all rippling in time with that deep growl. In front of him, the Medium-Sized Bear. The cool night breeze that once chilled the girl's form was replaced with a putrid wind that brought tears to her eyes and a gag to her lips. The bear was slumped over, glazed eyes peered at her from sloughing skin. It was almost as if her very form was seconds away from peeling away from whatever held it still, left to flow across the wooden floor. The last form, finally coming into focus, stood at the very foot of her bed. The Littlest Bear. A creation to be remembered. Every single stitch in its form pulsed with life and vitality, every inch of flesh wriggling with a will to be known! It hung perfectly in the moonlight, a shining star in this house of the dead. The three bears stood still in the silence of the night, the air bathed in only the Great Big Bear's growl. Surely, the girl knew her fate had been sealed — her disrespectful ways had finally led her to the end of the road. Seeing no other option, the girl prepared to once again abandon her responsibilities and flee into the night and leapt for the open window. Unfortunately for her, her movements were clumsy and slow, scrambling wildly as she tried to escape her punishment. The Littlest Bear, on the other hand, was just right, and made it there first. ----- Little is known what happened to the naughty little girl after that. Some say that the bears caught her and gave her a good scolding for her ill-gotten gains. Others say she managed to evade her punishment, only to become helplessly lost in the woods. All that is known is that the bears were able to live a well-mannered and peaceful life after such a dreadful event, and that the little girl would simply know peace nevermore. That, children, is the story of the three bears. I do hope that- yes, yes, do calm down! It's but a story! I do hope that you will keep this lesson in mind and keep good in your day-to-day lives. Your worry is for naught, as you will soon see the little girl is no longer such a miscreant as she once was — I myself would even consider her to be just right indeed! Ah, no matter. Until next time children! Be sure to tell all what you've learned today — and be sure to keep yourselves out of trouble. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Deadly Bread]] ===== > Filename: header4.png > Name: Exit Light > Author: [[[https://www.flickr.com/photos/195755885@N07/\|SynthPanda_]]] > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [[[https://www.flickr.com/photos/195755885@N07/53096279303/\|Flickr]]] > Filename: header4.png > Name: Peeping Tom .jpg > Author: TheLegendsOfOld > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peeping_Tom_.jpg\|Wikimedia Commons]]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-28T19:34:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "bleak", "eventyr", "first-person", "horror", "tale" ]	The Bears - SCP Foundation	16	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-reliquary-area-27", "scp-series-7-tales-edition", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1451991345	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-bears
the-boltmann-ambush	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Acreepypasta/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aanon/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aparawatch-pumpkin/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #f99"><strong>crewtime</strong></span> 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:11:23 #93870112</p> <hr/> <p>Happy holidays, Parawatchers. A few of you asked me to look into the 2005 deaths of the Boltmann family — not a case that immediately jumps out as having a supernatural element to it. In fact, it seems exceptionally straightforward on the surface: a family of campers who were trapped by inclement weather and wildlife, and died as a result of ill-preparedness. But after a thorough investigation, I feel confident enough to say that there is something more going on in this case, even if I'm not exactly sure what it might be.</p> <p>The Boltmanns were a family of four: Christopher and Selma Boltmann (45 and 41, respectively), married in 1993, and their two children Bradley (15) and Cassandra (10). Christopher was a successful broker at a hedge fund in Westport, Connecticut, which was the family's primary residence. Selma was working towards a real estate license, and the children attended a private school in the area. But Christopher owned multiple properties, one of which was an isolated cabin in Wheeler County, Oregon. Almost every year, the family would fly out to Oregon, rent a car, and spend a week or two in the cabin.</p> <p>During these trips, it was understood by Christopher's colleagues that he would be out of cell service and functionally unreachable. This wasn't strictly true; they were told this by him, but Christopher was a hobby survivalist, and always kept a satellite phone in the cabin in case of emergency. He also kept a large supply of canned food and bottled water, as well as a number of hunting rifles and ammunition. He was also active on a number of survivalist web forums and the few camping stores in Westport that catered to such a demographic knew him by name.</p> <p>In summary, Christopher Boltmann was well-equipped, knowledgeable, and experienced in his hobby, and most critically, was well-acquainted with the area after years of vacations and sabbaticals there. The Boltmann home had plenty of food, water, and first aid. It is exceptionally clear (to me, at least) that Christopher Boltmann was not the east-coast amateur who bit off more than he could chew that the Wheeler County Sheriff's Office framed him as after their investigation.</p> <p>As an aside, I could not find a paper trail for Christopher Boltmann's ownership of the land the cabin sits on. The deed is in his name, and he paid taxes on it, but I was unable to find a date of sale or other obvious method of how he acquired the land. This may simply be the result of poor recordkeeping (or, I admit, inadequate investigation — this is not exactly my field) and appears unrelated to the case anyway, but I felt it pertinent to mention.</p> <p>This is all background knowledge. Onto the incident.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #f99"><strong>crewtime</strong></span> 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:12:02 #93870114</p> <hr/> <p>In fall of 2005, shortly after Thankgiving, the Boltmann family took one of these vacations. Unlike the usual trips, which happened while school was on break, Christopher pulled Brad and Cassandra out of their school for a week for this trip. Christopher only informed his fund of his impending absence on the the 27th, which was the same day plane tickets were purchased for the 29th from Bradley International Airport in Connecticut to Portland International Airport. Selma's biweekly book club, comprised of a few neighborhood wives, met on the 28th in a local diner; her friends described her as unusually distant and disturbed. Though she insisted everything was fine, she did not inform any of them of the trip.</p> <p>The security system on their 6-bedroom Westport home was armed at 6:07AM, indicating when they departed. They would never return. Christopher's Range Rover was left at home, the family instead piling their luggage into Selma's much smaller Prius for the hour-long drive to the airport. They arrived at the airport, were processed through security by 7:29AM, and waited at the gate until their boarding. Security camera footage from the airport gate show Brad drawing in his sketchbook and Cassandra reading a novel, while the parents are at a distance, engaged in a quiet but intense discussion. At various times, Christopher and Selma both look up and glance around, as though expecting someone. Finally, they board the plane 40 minutes later, at 8:06AM.</p> <p>The flight from BDL to PDX is eight and a half hours long, with an hourlong layover in Chicago's O'Hare. They arrive at Portland International at 1:23PM, and security footage shows Christopher much more visibly relaxed, though Selma still appears guarded, keeping the children close at hand. After collecting their luggage, they take the airport shuttle to the rental car terminal, sign the paperwork, and pay the deposit for their vehicle — a Jeep Wrangler. The Boltmanns begin the drive to the cabin, which lies nearly two-and-a-half-hours outside of Portland.</p> <p>At this point, records become spotty. In another departure from tradition, the Boltmanns avoid major highways like I-84 and stick to smaller frontage roads and bypasses wherever possible, which makes it nearly impossible to track them via highway cameras. They stop twice: once for gas at a Shell station about an hour outside of Portland, during which Selma goes to the bathroom and Brad purchases a Twix bar. And once more in a small general store attached to a service station a few miles from the location of their cabin at 4:07PM, where the family makes a number of small purchases. This is the last time Selma, Brad, and Cassandra are seen alive.</p> <p>The cashier later noted to authorities that neither parent seemed particularly worried or concerned to him. Christopher was cheerfully conversing with him, and Selma and the children appeared to be in good spirits. Christopher mentioned they would be 'in the area' for the week and purchased some loose first aid items before the family departed, driving deeper into the forest, presumably to their cabin.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #f99"><strong>crewtime</strong></span> 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:12:37 #93870118</p> <hr/> <p>The next time the cashier sees Christopher Boltmann is the next morning. He comes in complaining that his cabin has no running water, and purchases most of the general store's bottled water (despite the cabin already being well-stocked) and leaves again.</p> <p>Christopher does not show up again for two days, before returning on December 2nd. In stark contrast to his previous behaviour, the cashier described him as cold, distant, and almost suspicious in this meeting; he also notes that Christopher's appearance had degraded, with a sickly, feverish sweat and dark bags under his eyes. He says very little, and only inquires whether anyone else in the area has reported seeing any strange wildlife. When told no, the cashier claims Christopher obliquely threatened him — saying that the cashier was the only person that knew the Boltmanns were there, and that he was armed. He departed silently. This is the last time Christropher is seen alive.</p> <p>Over the next four days, a huge storm moves over western Oregon, dumping a near-constant flow of snow and freezing rain onto the rural parts of the state, including Wheeler County. The cashier attests (corroborated by witnesses) that the inclement weather made it impossible for him to get to the service station, and so he simply stayed home with his wife and didn't make the trek to work again until December 7th.</p> <p>Upon pushing through the several feet of fresh snow, he arrived at the general store to unlock it and realized that the power was out and that there was a large, bloody smear across the glass door to the store. He immediately called the county police, who sent out a squad car to investigate. The deputies arrived at 9:34AM. The blood was several days old and frozen to the glass, and there were no tracks or blood trails leading to or from the store — if they existed, they had been long since snowed over. It was only at the cashier's request that the deputies went to investigate the Boltmann house at all, as the officers did not want to make the taxing physical trek to the cabin.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #f99"><strong>crewtime</strong></span> 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:13:00 #93870119</p> <hr/> <p>At 10:20AM, the deputy made a call back to the sheriff's office requesting immediate backup, and reported the frozen corpses of two adults and two children. Three more squad cars arrived half an hour later, and officers began evaluating the scene.</p> <p>All four bodies were found inside the cabin, which had taken significant exterior damage. Portions of the wood panelling had been aggressively torn apart and pulled away, and most of the windows on the south-facing side were broken. There were long, deep, large scratch marks across the porch and walls, substantially larger than those of grizzly bears. When officers tried to gain entry, they found the doors and windows had been barricaded from the inside with planks of wood and furniture — there were no obvious points of ingress.</p> <p>They forced their way through a window and found a baffling, morbid scene. The bodies were all in different areas of the two-bedroom cabin — Brad was found in the childrens' bedroom under a pile of blankets, Cassandra curled up in a kitchen cupboard, Selma locked in the bathroom, and Christopher himself in the living room, directly across from the front door, holding his hunting rifle. All were initially assumed to have starved to death, based on their emaciated states — until deputies found large stores of dried, nonperishable foods and bottled water (a few of them open) in the kitchen. The bodies were airlifted away for a full autopsy shortly thereafter, and the cause of death was determined to be dying of exposure and thirst for Christopher, Cassandra, and Selma — and botulism for Brad.</p> <p>After collecting a considerable amount of forensic evidence, the sheriff's office declared that the incident had been a tragic accident — overconfident campers who had let their bottled water supplies be tainted by botulinum, then trapped inside by an overaggressive, possibly rabid bear. Unable to go outside to use their satellite phone, Brad died of botulinum poisoning while the rest of his family wasted away, unwilling to risk drinking their own water, then died. The case was closed as a tragic cautionary tale.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #f99"><strong>crewtime</strong></span> 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:13:19 #93870121</p> <hr/> <p>This seems reasonable enough on the surface, but there are a number of glaring holes in this explanation:</p> <p>Firstly, botulinum does not occur in bottled water; the safety mechanisms of bottled water companies are far too rigid to allow the presence of foreign bacteria to an extent that one might contract botulism from drinking it. Botulism is, however, noted to occur in canned food, which the Boltmanns had in scores. This raises two possibilities: either the botulism was in fact contracted from the canned meats, or it was placed into the bottled water. There is also the element that Christopher clearly elected not to dare drinking any more of the (presumably sealed) bottled water — the kind of decision only made when one has reason not to trust it.</p> <p>Secondly, the explanation of a bear: as mentioned, the scratch marks and destruction left on the outside of the property are not consistent with the size of a bear's paws. But much more obvious than this is the fact that a bear, even a rabid one, does not behave this way. Most bears hibernate for long portions of the winter, leaving their dens only to get food and return. They would certainly not hang around a cabin for four days in an effort to kill any humans inside — rabies makes animals confused, terrified, and irrational, but it does not make them vengeful. Additionally, the bear only attacked the south-facing side of the house, where Christopher was; it ignored the north and west windows and walls, inside which lay Selma and Brad, respectively.</p> <p>Third, the power being cut. This was explained as a natural result of the storm and snow — which is correct, sometimes power lines simply break. But the deputy did note in his original report that the cut to the nearby power line was 'clean.'</p> <p>Fourth, and most importantly, the timeline does not match up.</p> <p>It is clear through security camera footage of the Boltmann's behaviour that Christopher and Selma were scared of something or someone in Connecticut following them. But their trip to Oregon was extremely sudden and unplanned — if there was someone, they knew where the Boltmanns would go.</p> <p>There's also the matter of the water being cut: as far as I can tell, there's no official explanation for why the water stopped working for the Boltmanns, but notably, there were no similar problems reported by surrounding households. And it was the initial loss of running water that forced the Boltmanns to rely on their contaminated bottled water.</p> <p>And there is the enduring question: if the story is true, and the Boltmanns were trapped inside by an animal, who or what made the bloodstain on the door to the general store? The bear? The blood was human. One of the Boltmanns, having escaped the bear? Cassandra is too young to have made the trek, and Brad could not possibly have done it in his ill state. Only Selma or Christopher feasibly could have — and if so, why did they crawl back and rebarricade the door, rather than using the satellite phone to call for help? Not to mention the lack of any obvious physical wounds, of course.</p> </div> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: #f99"><strong>crewtime</strong></span> 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:13:40 #93870124</p> <hr/> <p>None of these issues prevented the Wheeler County Sheriff's Office from considering the case closed, in a remarkably convenient ending to a strange saga. The Boltmanns were buried back home in Connecticut and written off as the victims of the harshness of nature.</p> <p>But I think an objective analysis of the facts of the case make it quite clear that there is no scenario in which it is not a possibility that there is a fifth body somewhere in the Oregon woods — and that the deaths of the Boltmann family were less an accident and more a carefully planned and executed slaying by someone lying in wait well before their unplanned trip happened.</p> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-boltmann-ambush">The Boltmann Ambush</a>" by Rounderhouse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-boltmann-ambush">https://scpwiki.com/the-boltmann-ambush</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:anon">:scp-wiki:theme:anon</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:parawatch-pumpkin">:scp-wiki:theme:parawatch-pumpkin</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##f99\|crewtime## 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:11:23 #93870112 ---- Happy holidays, Parawatchers. A few of you asked me to look into the 2005 deaths of the Boltmann family -- not a case that immediately jumps out as having a supernatural element to it. In fact, it seems exceptionally straightforward on the surface: a family of campers who were trapped by inclement weather and wildlife, and died as a result of ill-preparedness. But after a thorough investigation, I feel confident enough to say that there is something more going on in this case, even if I'm not exactly sure what it might be. The Boltmanns were a family of four: Christopher and Selma Boltmann (45 and 41, respectively), married in 1993, and their two children Bradley (15) and Cassandra (10). Christopher was a successful broker at a hedge fund in Westport, Connecticut, which was the family's primary residence. Selma was working towards a real estate license, and the children attended a private school in the area. But Christopher owned multiple properties, one of which was an isolated cabin in Wheeler County, Oregon. Almost every year, the family would fly out to Oregon, rent a car, and spend a week or two in the cabin. During these trips, it was understood by Christopher's colleagues that he would be out of cell service and functionally unreachable. This wasn't strictly true; they were told this by him, but Christopher was a hobby survivalist, and always kept a satellite phone in the cabin in case of emergency. He also kept a large supply of canned food and bottled water, as well as a number of hunting rifles and ammunition. He was also active on a number of survivalist web forums and the few camping stores in Westport that catered to such a demographic knew him by name. In summary, Christopher Boltmann was well-equipped, knowledgeable, and experienced in his hobby, and most critically, was well-acquainted with the area after years of vacations and sabbaticals there. The Boltmann home had plenty of food, water, and first aid. It is exceptionally clear (to me, at least) that Christopher Boltmann was not the east-coast amateur who bit off more than he could chew that the Wheeler County Sheriff's Office framed him as after their investigation. As an aside, I could not find a paper trail for Christopher Boltmann's ownership of the land the cabin sits on. The deed is in his name, and he paid taxes on it, but I was unable to find a date of sale or other obvious method of how he acquired the land. This may simply be the result of poor recordkeeping (or, I admit, inadequate investigation -- this is not exactly my field) and appears unrelated to the case anyway, but I felt it pertinent to mention. This is all background knowledge. Onto the incident. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##f99\|crewtime## 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:12:02 #93870114 ---- In fall of 2005, shortly after Thankgiving, the Boltmann family took one of these vacations. Unlike the usual trips, which happened while school was on break, Christopher pulled Brad and Cassandra out of their school for a week for this trip. Christopher only informed his fund of his impending absence on the the 27th, which was the same day plane tickets were purchased for the 29th from Bradley International Airport in Connecticut to Portland International Airport. Selma's biweekly book club, comprised of a few neighborhood wives, met on the 28th in a local diner; her friends described her as unusually distant and disturbed. Though she insisted everything was fine, she did not inform any of them of the trip. The security system on their 6-bedroom Westport home was armed at 6:07AM, indicating when they departed. They would never return. Christopher's Range Rover was left at home, the family instead piling their luggage into Selma's much smaller Prius for the hour-long drive to the airport. They arrived at the airport, were processed through security by 7:29AM, and waited at the gate until their boarding. Security camera footage from the airport gate show Brad drawing in his sketchbook and Cassandra reading a novel, while the parents are at a distance, engaged in a quiet but intense discussion. At various times, Christopher and Selma both look up and glance around, as though expecting someone. Finally, they board the plane 40 minutes later, at 8:06AM. The flight from BDL to PDX is eight and a half hours long, with an hourlong layover in Chicago's O'Hare. They arrive at Portland International at 1:23PM, and security footage shows Christopher much more visibly relaxed, though Selma still appears guarded, keeping the children close at hand. After collecting their luggage, they take the airport shuttle to the rental car terminal, sign the paperwork, and pay the deposit for their vehicle -- a Jeep Wrangler. The Boltmanns begin the drive to the cabin, which lies nearly two-and-a-half-hours outside of Portland. At this point, records become spotty. In another departure from tradition, the Boltmanns avoid major highways like I-84 and stick to smaller frontage roads and bypasses wherever possible, which makes it nearly impossible to track them via highway cameras. They stop twice: once for gas at a Shell station about an hour outside of Portland, during which Selma goes to the bathroom and Brad purchases a Twix bar. And once more in a small general store attached to a service station a few miles from the location of their cabin at 4:07PM, where the family makes a number of small purchases. This is the last time Selma, Brad, and Cassandra are seen alive. The cashier later noted to authorities that neither parent seemed particularly worried or concerned to him. Christopher was cheerfully conversing with him, and Selma and the children appeared to be in good spirits. Christopher mentioned they would be 'in the area' for the week and purchased some loose first aid items before the family departed, driving deeper into the forest, presumably to their cabin. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##f99\|crewtime## 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:12:37 #93870118 ---- The next time the cashier sees Christopher Boltmann is the next morning. He comes in complaining that his cabin has no running water, and purchases most of the general store's bottled water (despite the cabin already being well-stocked) and leaves again. Christopher does not show up again for two days, before returning on December 2nd. In stark contrast to his previous behaviour, the cashier described him as cold, distant, and almost suspicious in this meeting; he also notes that Christopher's appearance had degraded, with a sickly, feverish sweat and dark bags under his eyes. He says very little, and only inquires whether anyone else in the area has reported seeing any strange wildlife. When told no, the cashier claims Christopher obliquely threatened him -- saying that the cashier was the only person that knew the Boltmanns were there, and that he was armed. He departed silently. This is the last time Christropher is seen alive. Over the next four days, a huge storm moves over western Oregon, dumping a near-constant flow of snow and freezing rain onto the rural parts of the state, including Wheeler County. The cashier attests (corroborated by witnesses) that the inclement weather made it impossible for him to get to the service station, and so he simply stayed home with his wife and didn't make the trek to work again until December 7th. Upon pushing through the several feet of fresh snow, he arrived at the general store to unlock it and realized that the power was out and that there was a large, bloody smear across the glass door to the store. He immediately called the county police, who sent out a squad car to investigate. The deputies arrived at 9:34AM. The blood was several days old and frozen to the glass, and there were no tracks or blood trails leading to or from the store -- if they existed, they had been long since snowed over. It was only at the cashier's request that the deputies went to investigate the Boltmann house at all, as the officers did not want to make the taxing physical trek to the cabin. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##f99\|crewtime## 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:13:00 #93870119 ---- At 10:20AM, the deputy made a call back to the sheriff's office requesting immediate backup, and reported the frozen corpses of two adults and two children. Three more squad cars arrived half an hour later, and officers began evaluating the scene. All four bodies were found inside the cabin, which had taken significant exterior damage. Portions of the wood panelling had been aggressively torn apart and pulled away, and most of the windows on the south-facing side were broken. There were long, deep, large scratch marks across the porch and walls, substantially larger than those of grizzly bears. When officers tried to gain entry, they found the doors and windows had been barricaded from the inside with planks of wood and furniture -- there were no obvious points of ingress. They forced their way through a window and found a baffling, morbid scene. The bodies were all in different areas of the two-bedroom cabin -- Brad was found in the childrens' bedroom under a pile of blankets, Cassandra curled up in a kitchen cupboard, Selma locked in the bathroom, and Christopher himself in the living room, directly across from the front door, holding his hunting rifle. All were initially assumed to have starved to death, based on their emaciated states -- until deputies found large stores of dried, nonperishable foods and bottled water (a few of them open) in the kitchen. The bodies were airlifted away for a full autopsy shortly thereafter, and the cause of death was determined to be dying of exposure and thirst for Christopher, Cassandra, and Selma -- and botulism for Brad. After collecting a considerable amount of forensic evidence, the sheriff's office declared that the incident had been a tragic accident -- overconfident campers who had let their bottled water supplies be tainted by botulinum, then trapped inside by an overaggressive, possibly rabid bear. Unable to go outside to use their satellite phone, Brad died of botulinum poisoning while the rest of his family wasted away, unwilling to risk drinking their own water, then died. The case was closed as a tragic cautionary tale. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##f99\|crewtime## 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:13:19 #93870121 ---- This seems reasonable enough on the surface, but there are a number of glaring holes in this explanation: Firstly, botulinum does not occur in bottled water; the safety mechanisms of bottled water companies are far too rigid to allow the presence of foreign bacteria to an extent that one might contract botulism from drinking it. Botulism is, however, noted to occur in canned food, which the Boltmanns had in scores. This raises two possibilities: either the botulism was in fact contracted from the canned meats, or it was placed into the bottled water. There is also the element that Christopher clearly elected not to dare drinking any more of the (presumably sealed) bottled water -- the kind of decision only made when one has reason not to trust it. Secondly, the explanation of a bear: as mentioned, the scratch marks and destruction left on the outside of the property are not consistent with the size of a bear's paws. But much more obvious than this is the fact that a bear, even a rabid one, does not behave this way. Most bears hibernate for long portions of the winter, leaving their dens only to get food and return. They would certainly not hang around a cabin for four days in an effort to kill any humans inside -- rabies makes animals confused, terrified, and irrational, but it does not make them vengeful. Additionally, the bear only attacked the south-facing side of the house, where Christopher was; it ignored the north and west windows and walls, inside which lay Selma and Brad, respectively. Third, the power being cut. This was explained as a natural result of the storm and snow -- which is correct, sometimes power lines simply break. But the deputy did note in his original report that the cut to the nearby power line was 'clean.' Fourth, and most importantly, the timeline does not match up. It is clear through security camera footage of the Boltmann's behaviour that Christopher and Selma were scared of something or someone in Connecticut following them. But their trip to Oregon was extremely sudden and unplanned -- if there was someone, they knew where the Boltmanns would go. There's also the matter of the water being cut: as far as I can tell, there's no official explanation for why the water stopped working for the Boltmanns, but notably, there were no similar problems reported by surrounding households. And it was the initial loss of running water that forced the Boltmanns to rely on their contaminated bottled water. And there is the enduring question: if the story is true, and the Boltmanns were trapped inside by an animal, who or what made the bloodstain on the door to the general store? The bear? The blood was human. One of the Boltmanns, having escaped the bear? Cassandra is too young to have made the trek, and Brad could not possibly have done it in his ill state. Only Selma or Christopher feasibly could have -- and if so, why did they crawl back and rebarricade the door, rather than using the satellite phone to call for help? Not to mention the lack of any obvious physical wounds, of course. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##f99\|crewtime## 12/16/22 (Fri) 14:13:40 #93870124 ---- None of these issues prevented the Wheeler County Sheriff's Office from considering the case closed, in a remarkably convenient ending to a strange saga. The Boltmanns were buried back home in Connecticut and written off as the victims of the harshness of nature. But I think an objective analysis of the facts of the case make it quite clear that there is no scenario in which it is not a possibility that there is a fifth body somewhere in the Oregon woods -- and that the deaths of the Boltmann family were less an accident and more a carefully planned and executed slaying by someone lying in wait well before their unplanned trip happened. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-21T19:58:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "creepypasta", "horror", "mystery", "parawatch", "tale" ]	The Boltmann Ambush - SCP Foundation	92	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "parawatch-hub", "crewtime", "creepy-pasta" ]	[]	1446358351	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-boltmann-ambush
the-burned-boy	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>The Burned Boy</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">Byㅤ</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moremuffins" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7519066); return false;"><img alt="MoreMuffins" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7519066&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645321" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7519066)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/moremuffins" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7519066); return false;">MoreMuffins</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1680224010 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">31 Mar 2023 00:53</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="meta-title"> <p>The Burned Boy</p> </div> <div class="pseudocrumbs"> <p><a href="/canon-hub">Canon Hub</a> » <a href="/nightfall-hub">NIGHTFALL Hub</a> » The Burned Boy</p> </div> <p>The sound of about sixty pairs of low–heeled boots throws about the halls and lingers among vaulted white ceilings as young Witches file out of their last classes of the day. Cyclamene settles a basket of brewing tackle on her arm and sighs, tucking loose hair behind her ear.</p> <p>Someone calls over the din of chatter and clacking footsteps. She turns to find an acquaintance of hers waving. Cyclamene raises a hand in return. The woman’s name is Bresa, if she recalls correctly. They have two classes together during the morning period, during which Bresa insists on sharing her table with Cyclamene. They exchange greetings and dry pleasantries, and the stream of students passes them by with no urgency. Cyclamene’s eyes stray back and forth from Bresa’s face to the door at the end of the hall. The basket weighs heavy at the crook of her elbow. She shuffles her feet and rests the basket on her hip. She can feel her hair slipping from its bun underneath her cap. Bresa chuckles at something and levels a light punch at Cyclamene’s shoulder. She’s barely aware of her own mouth replying to Bresa’s prompts, seeming to speak on its own.</p> <p>She looks to the door again. The crowd of students has thinned some. The buzzing of their presence still fills her ears like cotton. Bresa mentions an evening outing with some other classmates. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of Cyclamene’s neck. Her scalp itches. There is a headache starting behind her eyes. She nods, and Bresa’s face lights up as she departs for her dorm. Finally, Cyclamene is alone in the hall. She sighs, unsure if she can even last ten more minutes on her feet.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Her arm aches as she makes it to the door to her dormitory, the basket pulling at her incessantly. She feels the strain in her ankles. She’ll need an herbal tea to sleep tonight; quiltleaf and pitted aster for the pain, perhaps a paste of banksprout for swelling… she has all three in her cupboards, though, she’ll need to visit the market soon for the aster before it falls out of season. She grips the worn brass doorknob in one hand and her thoughts fall silent.</p> <p>The doorknob is smeared with a thinly colored sticky substance which produces a foul scent when she inspects her stained glove. It’s pus, she realizes– a human’s pus, judging by the color. She strains her ears to listen for noise behind the door. Something shuffles across the floor, there’s a dull <em>thunk</em> as this intruder collides with some furniture.</p> <p>Cyclamene takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. There’s no sense in panicking. Whoever has invaded her dorm is injured if the pus on the doorknob is any indication, and their movements inside the room sound clumsy. She has the upper hand– she can run from this person and out of the building if they give chase. There would be no way out for them.</p> <p>She opens her eyes and the door in turn, fully ready to slam it shut in the intruder’s face if needs be. She is met with a room devoid of any trespasser and her cupboard ransacked from the bottom up.</p> <p>Her heart beats hard in her chest as she searches for signs of the person she’d heard. The cupboard’s door is swung wide to reveal some tilted shelves smeared with dirt, jars and tins spilled over the floor in disarray. Her bed appears untouched, as do the high cabinets she keeps her herbs and other potioncraft in. The table is in its usual place, though the cloth is stained at the edges, and she can see a shape beneath it in the dim light of the room.</p> <p>Slowly, carefully, she sinks to her knees and peers beneath the tablecloth. The face of a child stares back at her, days-old burns glistening wetly on the bridge of his nose and underneath sunken eyes. His cheeks are hollow, his face and frame are thin, and he’s clad in worn, street-stained clothes… his condition seems to speak of being more than just a refugee of a recent house fire. He clearly hasn’t eaten in some time. The fierce way he clutches a crust of bread to his chest confirms this, though it would have been obvious regardless.</p> <p>“<em>Hello,</em>” she says plainly, in the best soothing tone she can muster.</p> <p>The boy stares at her, confusion edging into the caution on his face. He says nothing. Perhaps he’s deaf? She brings one hand behind her back and snaps her fingers. It’s soft, muffled by the glove she wears, but the boy still startles visibly at the sound. Not deaf, then.</p> <p>“<em>Can you speak?</em>” She asks next. This prompts the boy to raise an eyebrow at her. Clearly something is not making sense to him, but if he would just do something to make clear what that <em>is</em>…</p> <p>“What are you saying?” The boy finally says, his voice raspy and thick from dehydration, bearing traces of an Ilcanan accent, and now Cyclamene realizes the issue.</p> <p>She’s speaking Witchtongue. Of course he isn’t responding, he likely doesn’t know what she’s saying. It’s hardly a well-liked language among human populations, and this is a human child.</p> <p>A child. She hasn’t interacted with any children since she helped a classmate babysit for the Ilcanan Language professor, and the most she’d done then was write a paper for Remedial Spellspeak while the child slept in her bassinet. Before that…</p> <p>“My name is Cyclamene. This is my room.” She winces at the sound of the words from her mouth– she’s never much enjoyed her language classes, and her Xerophyllic is somewhat shaky at best. “Are you thirsty?” He’s already found food on his own, so the next priority is to get water in him, right? Or should she treat his burns? They do seem quite bad. Her thoughts turn cloudy and sluggish when she looks at them too long. She wills away memories of rotting, blistering skin and tries to focus.</p> <p>The boy looks no less wary of her, but something about her switch to Xerophyllic seems to steady him.</p> <p>“I do not know why you are here. You have made my cabinets messy. I do not mind. You are hurt. You need medicine.” She feels almost winded by speaking.</p> <p>She folds a towel onto the seat of the stool and helps him sit on it. Her hands are cool through the thin gloves she wears– it's not a cold day, but the boy doesn't mind the feeling, so he doesn't ask why her hands are so chilly. The Witch lady– Cyclamene– walks back and forth in the room, opening cupboards and cabinets full of jars and bottles, tucking some of them into the crook of her arm. More towels are slung over her shoulder. A roll of bandages and a sheet of gauze join the bottles. Finally she deems her collection satisfactory and returns to him, setting everything down on the table. She turns to face him, her expression unreadable. He’s coming to think this flatness may be her default.</p> <p>"…Boy," she begins, hesitantly. Seth realizes he hasn't said a word to her since she started speaking Witchtongue.</p> <p>"My name is Seth." He croaks, and she nods.</p> <p>"Seth, yes. I will put medicine and bandages on you, okay? It will sting."</p> <p>It's disarming, in a way, watching Cyclamene work. She has every opportunity to turn on him- in his state, he could hardly put up much fight. She doesn't do that, though, only continues to work with a single minded energy. The smell of the paste she's making is almost unbearable, a sharp herbal scent so bitter Seth can taste it in the air. She calls it medicine, though, and she appears to know what she's doing. Her entire room is filled with instruments that look at least vaguely medicinal in nature. A few more mortars and pestles, jars and bottles of various sizes, strings of herbs hung up to dry, pens and spoons and books scattered here and there.</p> <p>She grabs a flat wooden implement and scoops the paste onto one side. "I will put this on your burns.” She dips one of the towels in water from a basin on the table and wrings it out.</p> <p>"There is dirt in the burns," she states. "If the dirt stays, you will get sick."</p> <p>She holds out one hand and he gives her his arm. The washcloth is rough against his arm, and Seth flinches despite himself. The woman mutters in Witchtongue as she gentles her cleaning. When his left arm is done, she moves to his right, where the burns are somewhat more extensive, and then to his face, soaking and wringing the cloth between each pass.</p> <p>For his arms, Cyclamene takes off her gloves and spreads the paste across his burns with frigid hands. She had warned him about the stinging, but still it takes him by surprise, and he hisses through his teeth. The stinging is even worse on his cheeks, and the smell of the salve much stronger. He scowls at the scent and the woman chuckles flatly. "You will get used to the smell," she says.</p> <p>When everything is sufficiently covered, she grabs the bandages and begins to carefully wrap his arm. She doesn't bandage it too tightly. When she finishes, she takes a soft cloth and cuts three neat squares from it, which she secures to his face with the bandages as well.</p> <p>"I am finished. You are feeling okay?" Seth nods. "Very good. Stay on the chair. I will clean up."</p> <p>She gathers the bottles and jars into her arms once more and sets about returning them to their homes in her cabinets. The clutter of the room is not without order, Seth realizes as he watches her. He can’t identify most of her ingredients, but they seem to be grouped by colored labels. The labels with the blue marks are arranged on a counter against the wall, next to a group of green-labeled jars full of what look like dead insects. The roll of bandages is placed next to a stack of folded towels. Her home is cluttered, but the closer Seth looks, he sees meaning in its disarray, so unlike how his father’s room had been when they still had the house.</p> <p>"Do you want tea?"</p> <p>She fills a kettle with water from the fountain in her kitchen wall and sets it on the stove. She mumbles a spell and snaps her fingers, sparks flying from her hand and lighting a fire underneath the kettle. Seth watches silently from the table, his eyes trained on her movements as she pulls down a bowl of assorted tea bags. Among them are palm-sized tins, the lids painted in muted colors, various herbs which Seth’s largely never heard of. One tin in particular catches his eye; its lid features a four-spoked leaf with a small blue bud at its center, but the label is in Witchtongue.</p> <p>"What flavor?" He asks her. She hums and answers without turning to face him as she picks through the bowl.</p> <p>"I have plenty of rabbit's-ear tea. A little bit sweet, a mild taste. Good for focus. And blue holly. That one is very sour. Warms you up."</p> <p>“Blue holly,” he tells her. She grabs two cups from her shelf and sets a teabag in each, takes the kettle and pours, occasionally settling the bags as they steep. Slowly, the scents of the tea fill the room, mingling in the humid air with spicy and stinging notes alike.</p> <p>She brings the tea to the table and sits. Seth breathes in the steam and basks in the feeling of his breath clearing up. He takes a slow sip, careful to keep the edge of the cup away from his bandaged cheeks. It's unfamiliar, it tingles in his mouth and the taste lingers on the back of his tongue, but it's not a bad flavor, and he drinks the rest in comfortable silence, across the table from Cyclamene.</p> <p>When he finishes the cup, she helps him into the bed. She sits at her desk, head rested on crossed arms. The warmth of the tea still lingers in his throat and hands, a pleasant feeling like petting a friendly cat.</p> <p>Blue holly, Seth decides, is his favorite kind of tea.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Seth drifts in shallow wakefulness, nestled in a wool knit blanket on a mattress softer than anything he’s felt in months. Somewhere in the room someone is writing, the distinct sound of a steel-tipped fountain pen on parchment swaying pleasantly in his ear. A voice joins the pen in a low, murmured song. The words escape Seth’s grasp, round and lilting in unfamiliar places. Witchtongue, he thinks.</p> <p>He’s being sheltered by a Witch, he remembers, recalling the bandages and the tea. He sits up, wincing at the strain on his arms. The burns do feel a bit better than they did before her treatment, he notes, so something about it must have worked. Cyclamene sits at the desk beside his bed, pen in hand, her hair tied in a loose bun. She lays down her pen and turns to look at Seth.</p> <p>“You have not eaten,” she says, as direct as ever. Seth balks at her tone and does not meet her gaze. Cyclamene eyes his hands; even under a layer of bandages she can see how bony his fingers are.</p> <p>“I had bread.” Seth stares pointedly away from her, examining a collection of bottles on a far shelf. They are made of colored glass, unlike the ones Cyclamene uses to store ingredients for her medicinal work.</p> <p>“You did not finish it.” She says. Her gaze sits like an iron weight on Seth’s shoulder. He moves on from studying the jars to inspect the basket of fruit on her kitchen table.</p> <p>She springs up out of her seat. “You are thin, so you should eat. I will go to the market.” As before, the speed at which she makes decisions baffles Seth. She sure does seem confident in her choices for how little thought she must put into them. “Is there anything you cannot eat?”</p> <p>Well, if she says she’s going, Seth doubts he’ll be able to stop her. “I’m allergic to radishes.”</p> <p>“Okay. I will return soon.” With that curt dismissal, she takes her leave, basket in hand, and Seth is left alone, her song echoing in his mind.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Amid the dark crevices and winding paths of the caves which house Ageumna, the City of Witches, the market street flickers and shines like a luminescent spiderweb. Vendors line the roads with bright tarps and lamp-adorned stalls, hawking their wares with whistles and chimes. At the rough center point of the market sits a finely hewn fountain topped with a silver bell. The view of the street from higher up in the central cavern is quite striking, Cyclamene knows, though she’s only made the trip twice before. Her business now is solely with the grocer. Something plain and easy on the stomach would be best for someone in such a delicate condition as Seth. Simple, but it would need some nutritional value as well… he seemed to like the bread from her cupboard, half-stale as it was. A fresh loaf wouldn’t cost too much, would it?</p> <p>The stall before her presents a myriad of foods. Breads and pastries line the table, fresh fruits and vegetables fill rows of baskets, strings of onion, garlic, and other spices hang from the stall frame. The smell of it all lingers in a mixed but not unpleasant aroma over the vendor, who watches patiently as Cyclamene ponders his selection. A loaf of fresh sourdough would normally be a luxury, but the boy deserves something nice, she thinks. It will be good for him. She grabs a bundle of carrots that look promising, as well a few potatoes. These will make good fixings for a soup. She’s in the middle of inspecting some apples for signs of pest damage when the bell above the fountain rings, its clear chimes silencing the market around it, vendors and customers alike brought to hush.</p> <p>A man’s voice emanates from the fountain, firm and light. “The time is now nineteen-hundred on the sixteenth day…” Cyclamene tunes him out and returns her focus to the apple in her hand. The hourly bulletin usually offers nothing of any real interest, and she has better things to do than listen to the speaker deliver news of cave-in repairs on the lower helical road. She turns the fruit over once more and adds it to her basket, pleased with its undamaged skin. Perhaps blueberries would be a good choice as well, she wonders quietly.</p> <p>“Lastly, an announcement from the Xerophylla Fundamentum Division of Hunters via the office of Ophacelia Academy Headmistress Lady Anicette: Xerophylla police forces have reported the escape of a vampiric child onto Academy grounds. Students of the academy and residents of the city are urged to stay alert and contact Academy staff or Fundamentum agents in the case of a sighting. Good evening.”</p> <p>The stall owner hums thoughtfully as the bulletin ends. “Our Lady preserve us, a Vampire in the academy?” He chuckles and looks at Cyclamene. “You’d best be careful up there, miss. Wouldn’t want to get bit, hey?” She nods. His words pass straight through her. She left Seth alone in her dorm! Seth, a child, a human child. He won’t suspect a thing if the Vampire comes to him. The bulletin is delivered in Witchtongue, he won’t know how much danger he’s in until it’s too late! He’s only a boy…</p> <p>He’s only a boy. A boy who’d broken into her dormitory room to hide under her table, who has said nothing of his family or home. A boy covered in grievous burns but bearing no signs of a fire. Her head begins to spin. It must be a coincidence. No matter how she looks at it, turns the boy over in her mind, she cannot shake the words of the bulletin from her thoughts.</p> <p>Cyclamene leaves a pouch of blueberries on the stall owner's table and frowns. "Listen, I'll pay for this later, I need to go… Mother above, I'm an idiot."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-false earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-no {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="The Man From Ilcana"> <p><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-man-from-ilcana">The Man From Ilcana</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Before The Fall"> <p><a href="/">Before The Fall</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Blood for a Friend"> <p><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/blood-for-a-friend">Blood for a Friend</a></p> </div> </div> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-burned-boy">The Burned Boy</a>" by MoreMuffins, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-burned-boy">https://scpwiki.com/the-burned-boy</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> cycroom3.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flowerfirst" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8085719); return false;"><img alt="flowerfirst" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8085719&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043741" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8085719)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flowerfirst" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8085719); return false;">flowerfirst</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-burned-boy">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --accentColor: #f27329; --accentColorLite: #f27329; --header-title: "SUNSET"; --header-subtitle: "Before the fall"; --lgurl: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nightfall-hub/nightfall_sun.png); } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="meta-title"]] The Burned Boy [[/div]] [[div class="pseudocrumbs"]] [[[Canon Hub]]] >> [[[NIGHTFALL Hub]]] >> The Burned Boy [[/div]] The sound of about sixty pairs of low–heeled boots throws about the halls and lingers among vaulted white ceilings as young Witches file out of their last classes of the day. Cyclamene settles a basket of brewing tackle on her arm and sighs, tucking loose hair behind her ear. Someone calls over the din of chatter and clacking footsteps. She turns to find an acquaintance of hers waving. Cyclamene raises a hand in return. The woman’s name is Bresa, if she recalls correctly. They have two classes together during the morning period, during which Bresa insists on sharing her table with Cyclamene. They exchange greetings and dry pleasantries, and the stream of students passes them by with no urgency. Cyclamene’s eyes stray back and forth from Bresa’s face to the door at the end of the hall. The basket weighs heavy at the crook of her elbow. She shuffles her feet and rests the basket on her hip. She can feel her hair slipping from its bun underneath her cap. Bresa chuckles at something and levels a light punch at Cyclamene’s shoulder. She’s barely aware of her own mouth replying to Bresa’s prompts, seeming to speak on its own. She looks to the door again. The crowd of students has thinned some. The buzzing of their presence still fills her ears like cotton. Bresa mentions an evening outing with some other classmates. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of Cyclamene’s neck. Her scalp itches. There is a headache starting behind her eyes. She nods, and Bresa’s face lights up as she departs for her dorm. Finally, Cyclamene is alone in the hall. She sighs, unsure if she can even last ten more minutes on her feet. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nightfall-hub/sunset_pagebreak.png]] @@ @@ @@ @@ Her arm aches as she makes it to the door to her dormitory, the basket pulling at her incessantly. She feels the strain in her ankles. She’ll need an herbal tea to sleep tonight; quiltleaf and pitted aster for the pain, perhaps a paste of banksprout for swelling… she has all three in her cupboards, though, she’ll need to visit the market soon for the aster before it falls out of season. She grips the worn brass doorknob in one hand and her thoughts fall silent. The doorknob is smeared with a thinly colored sticky substance which produces a foul scent when she inspects her stained glove. It’s pus, she realizes– a human’s pus, judging by the color. She strains her ears to listen for noise behind the door. Something shuffles across the floor, there’s a dull //thunk// as this intruder collides with some furniture. Cyclamene takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. There’s no sense in panicking. Whoever has invaded her dorm is injured if the pus on the doorknob is any indication, and their movements inside the room sound clumsy. She has the upper hand– she can run from this person and out of the building if they give chase. There would be no way out for them. She opens her eyes and the door in turn, fully ready to slam it shut in the intruder’s face if needs be. She is met with a room devoid of any trespasser and her cupboard ransacked from the bottom up. Her heart beats hard in her chest as she searches for signs of the person she’d heard. The cupboard’s door is swung wide to reveal some tilted shelves smeared with dirt, jars and tins spilled over the floor in disarray. Her bed appears untouched, as do the high cabinets she keeps her herbs and other potioncraft in. The table is in its usual place, though the cloth is stained at the edges, and she can see a shape beneath it in the dim light of the room. Slowly, carefully, she sinks to her knees and peers beneath the tablecloth. The face of a child stares back at her, days-old burns glistening wetly on the bridge of his nose and underneath sunken eyes. His cheeks are hollow, his face and frame are thin, and he’s clad in worn, street-stained clothes… his condition seems to speak of being more than just a refugee of a recent house fire. He clearly hasn’t eaten in some time. The fierce way he clutches a crust of bread to his chest confirms this, though it would have been obvious regardless. [[=image cycroom3.png]] “//Hello,//” she says plainly, in the best soothing tone she can muster. The boy stares at her, confusion edging into the caution on his face. He says nothing. Perhaps he’s deaf? She brings one hand behind her back and snaps her fingers. It’s soft, muffled by the glove she wears, but the boy still startles visibly at the sound. Not deaf, then. “//Can you speak?//” She asks next. This prompts the boy to raise an eyebrow at her. Clearly something is not making sense to him, but if he would just do something to make clear what that //is//… “What are you saying?” The boy finally says, his voice raspy and thick from dehydration, bearing traces of an Ilcanan accent, and now Cyclamene realizes the issue. She’s speaking Witchtongue. Of course he isn’t responding, he likely doesn’t know what she’s saying. It’s hardly a well-liked language among human populations, and this is a human child. A child. She hasn’t interacted with any children since she helped a classmate babysit for the Ilcanan Language professor, and the most she’d done then was write a paper for Remedial Spellspeak while the child slept in her bassinet. Before that… “My name is Cyclamene. This is my room.” She winces at the sound of the words from her mouth– she’s never much enjoyed her language classes, and her Xerophyllic is somewhat shaky at best. “Are you thirsty?” He’s already found food on his own, so the next priority is to get water in him, right? Or should she treat his burns? They do seem quite bad. Her thoughts turn cloudy and sluggish when she looks at them too long. She wills away memories of rotting, blistering skin and tries to focus. The boy looks no less wary of her, but something about her switch to Xerophyllic seems to steady him. “I do not know why you are here. You have made my cabinets messy. I do not mind. You are hurt. You need medicine.” She feels almost winded by speaking. She folds a towel onto the seat of the stool and helps him sit on it. Her hands are cool through the thin gloves she wears– it's not a cold day, but the boy doesn't mind the feeling, so he doesn't ask why her hands are so chilly. The Witch lady– Cyclamene– walks back and forth in the room, opening cupboards and cabinets full of jars and bottles, tucking some of them into the crook of her arm. More towels are slung over her shoulder. A roll of bandages and a sheet of gauze join the bottles. Finally she deems her collection satisfactory and returns to him, setting everything down on the table. She turns to face him, her expression unreadable. He’s coming to think this flatness may be her default. "...Boy," she begins, hesitantly. Seth realizes he hasn't said a word to her since she started speaking Witchtongue. "My name is Seth." He croaks, and she nods. "Seth, yes. I will put medicine and bandages on you, okay? It will sting." It's disarming, in a way, watching Cyclamene work. She has every opportunity to turn on him- in his state, he could hardly put up much fight. She doesn't do that, though, only continues to work with a single minded energy. The smell of the paste she's making is almost unbearable, a sharp herbal scent so bitter Seth can taste it in the air. She calls it medicine, though, and she appears to know what she's doing. Her entire room is filled with instruments that look at least vaguely medicinal in nature. A few more mortars and pestles, jars and bottles of various sizes, strings of herbs hung up to dry, pens and spoons and books scattered here and there. She grabs a flat wooden implement and scoops the paste onto one side. "I will put this on your burns.” She dips one of the towels in water from a basin on the table and wrings it out. "There is dirt in the burns," she states. "If the dirt stays, you will get sick." She holds out one hand and he gives her his arm. The washcloth is rough against his arm, and Seth flinches despite himself. The woman mutters in Witchtongue as she gentles her cleaning. When his left arm is done, she moves to his right, where the burns are somewhat more extensive, and then to his face, soaking and wringing the cloth between each pass. For his arms, Cyclamene takes off her gloves and spreads the paste across his burns with frigid hands. She had warned him about the stinging, but still it takes him by surprise, and he hisses through his teeth. The stinging is even worse on his cheeks, and the smell of the salve much stronger. He scowls at the scent and the woman chuckles flatly. "You will get used to the smell," she says. When everything is sufficiently covered, she grabs the bandages and begins to carefully wrap his arm. She doesn't bandage it too tightly. When she finishes, she takes a soft cloth and cuts three neat squares from it, which she secures to his face with the bandages as well. "I am finished. You are feeling okay?" Seth nods. "Very good. Stay on the chair. I will clean up." She gathers the bottles and jars into her arms once more and sets about returning them to their homes in her cabinets. The clutter of the room is not without order, Seth realizes as he watches her. He can’t identify most of her ingredients, but they seem to be grouped by colored labels. The labels with the blue marks are arranged on a counter against the wall, next to a group of green-labeled jars full of what look like dead insects. The roll of bandages is placed next to a stack of folded towels. Her home is cluttered, but the closer Seth looks, he sees meaning in its disarray, so unlike how his father’s room had been when they still had the house. "Do you want tea?" She fills a kettle with water from the fountain in her kitchen wall and sets it on the stove. She mumbles a spell and snaps her fingers, sparks flying from her hand and lighting a fire underneath the kettle. Seth watches silently from the table, his eyes trained on her movements as she pulls down a bowl of assorted tea bags. Among them are palm-sized tins, the lids painted in muted colors, various herbs which Seth’s largely never heard of. One tin in particular catches his eye; its lid features a four-spoked leaf with a small blue bud at its center, but the label is in Witchtongue. "What flavor?" He asks her. She hums and answers without turning to face him as she picks through the bowl. "I have plenty of rabbit's-ear tea. A little bit sweet, a mild taste. Good for focus. And blue holly. That one is very sour. Warms you up." “Blue holly,” he tells her. She grabs two cups from her shelf and sets a teabag in each, takes the kettle and pours, occasionally settling the bags as they steep. Slowly, the scents of the tea fill the room, mingling in the humid air with spicy and stinging notes alike. She brings the tea to the table and sits. Seth breathes in the steam and basks in the feeling of his breath clearing up. He takes a slow sip, careful to keep the edge of the cup away from his bandaged cheeks. It's unfamiliar, it tingles in his mouth and the taste lingers on the back of his tongue, but it's not a bad flavor, and he drinks the rest in comfortable silence, across the table from Cyclamene. When he finishes the cup, she helps him into the bed. She sits at her desk, head rested on crossed arms. The warmth of the tea still lingers in his throat and hands, a pleasant feeling like petting a friendly cat. Blue holly, Seth decides, is his favorite kind of tea. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nightfall-hub/sunset_pagebreak.png]] @@ @@ @@ @@ Seth drifts in shallow wakefulness, nestled in a wool knit blanket on a mattress softer than anything he’s felt in months. Somewhere in the room someone is writing, the distinct sound of a steel-tipped fountain pen on parchment swaying pleasantly in his ear. A voice joins the pen in a low, murmured song. The words escape Seth’s grasp, round and lilting in unfamiliar places. Witchtongue, he thinks. He’s being sheltered by a Witch, he remembers, recalling the bandages and the tea. He sits up, wincing at the strain on his arms. The burns do feel a bit better than they did before her treatment, he notes, so something about it must have worked. Cyclamene sits at the desk beside his bed, pen in hand, her hair tied in a loose bun. She lays down her pen and turns to look at Seth. “You have not eaten,” she says, as direct as ever. Seth balks at her tone and does not meet her gaze. Cyclamene eyes his hands; even under a layer of bandages she can see how bony his fingers are. “I had bread.” Seth stares pointedly away from her, examining a collection of bottles on a far shelf. They are made of colored glass, unlike the ones Cyclamene uses to store ingredients for her medicinal work. “You did not finish it.” She says. Her gaze sits like an iron weight on Seth’s shoulder. He moves on from studying the jars to inspect the basket of fruit on her kitchen table. She springs up out of her seat. “You are thin, so you should eat. I will go to the market.” As before, the speed at which she makes decisions baffles Seth. She sure does seem confident in her choices for how little thought she must put into them. “Is there anything you cannot eat?” Well, if she says she’s going, Seth doubts he’ll be able to stop her. “I’m allergic to radishes.” “Okay. I will return soon.” With that curt dismissal, she takes her leave, basket in hand, and Seth is left alone, her song echoing in his mind. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/nightfall-hub/sunset_pagebreak.png]] @@ @@ @@ @@ Amid the dark crevices and winding paths of the caves which house Ageumna, the City of Witches, the market street flickers and shines like a luminescent spiderweb. Vendors line the roads with bright tarps and lamp-adorned stalls, hawking their wares with whistles and chimes. At the rough center point of the market sits a finely hewn fountain topped with a silver bell. The view of the street from higher up in the central cavern is quite striking, Cyclamene knows, though she’s only made the trip twice before. Her business now is solely with the grocer. Something plain and easy on the stomach would be best for someone in such a delicate condition as Seth. Simple, but it would need some nutritional value as well… he seemed to like the bread from her cupboard, half-stale as it was. A fresh loaf wouldn’t cost too much, would it? The stall before her presents a myriad of foods. Breads and pastries line the table, fresh fruits and vegetables fill rows of baskets, strings of onion, garlic, and other spices hang from the stall frame. The smell of it all lingers in a mixed but not unpleasant aroma over the vendor, who watches patiently as Cyclamene ponders his selection. A loaf of fresh sourdough would normally be a luxury, but the boy deserves something nice, she thinks. It will be good for him. She grabs a bundle of carrots that look promising, as well a few potatoes. These will make good fixings for a soup. She’s in the middle of inspecting some apples for signs of pest damage when the bell above the fountain rings, its clear chimes silencing the market around it, vendors and customers alike brought to hush. A man’s voice emanates from the fountain, firm and light. “The time is now nineteen-hundred on the sixteenth day…” Cyclamene tunes him out and returns her focus to the apple in her hand. The hourly bulletin usually offers nothing of any real interest, and she has better things to do than listen to the speaker deliver news of cave-in repairs on the lower helical road. She turns the fruit over once more and adds it to her basket, pleased with its undamaged skin. Perhaps blueberries would be a good choice as well, she wonders quietly. “Lastly, an announcement from the Xerophylla Fundamentum Division of Hunters via the office of Ophacelia Academy Headmistress Lady Anicette: Xerophylla police forces have reported the escape of a vampiric child onto Academy grounds. Students of the academy and residents of the city are urged to stay alert and contact Academy staff or Fundamentum agents in the case of a sighting. Good evening.” The stall owner hums thoughtfully as the bulletin ends. “Our Lady preserve us, a Vampire in the academy?” He chuckles and looks at Cyclamene. “You’d best be careful up there, miss. Wouldn’t want to get bit, hey?” She nods. His words pass straight through her. She left Seth alone in her dorm! Seth, a child, a human child. He won’t suspect a thing if the Vampire comes to him. The bulletin is delivered in Witchtongue, he won’t know how much danger he’s in until it’s too late! He’s only a boy… He’s only a boy. A boy who’d broken into her dormitory room to hide under her table, who has said nothing of his family or home. A boy covered in grievous burns but bearing no signs of a fire. Her head begins to spin. It must be a coincidence. No matter how she looks at it, turns the boy over in her mind, she cannot shake the words of the bulletin from her thoughts. Cyclamene leaves a pouch of blueberries on the stall owner's table and frowns. "Listen, I'll pay for this later, I need to go… Mother above, I'm an idiot." @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=no \| previous-url=http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-man-from-ilcana \| previous-title=The Man From Ilcana \| next-url=http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/blood-for-a-friend \| next-title=Blood for a Friend \| hub-url=/ \| hub-title=Before The Fall ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: cycroom3.png > Author: [[user flowerfirst]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-burned-boy SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-31T00:53:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "co-authored", "nightfall", "tale" ]	The Burned Boy - SCP Foundation	21	[ "canon-hub", "nightfall-hub", "the-man-from-ilcana", "blood-for-a-friend", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "nightfall-hub" ]	[]	1447034779	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-burned-boy
the-cave-and-the-garden	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The dream begins in a cave, where my surroundings are more clear than any dream that I have ever seen or heard of. Around me, I see dark stone, shaped over millennia by water. Below me are stairs, carved into a gentle slope by human hand, that guide me upwards as a gentle stream flows through small channels flanking my path. Webs of white light dance across the roof above as the light from the distant surface sun reflects the water’s rippling onto the stone. I look back and the cave grows steeper; there the stairs twist down into the black abyss. I hear faint pattering at first, and it registers with horror that something is running up the stairs.</p> <p>I sprint, hoping to beat the breakneck pace of the unseen creature, and as I leap up the path, I pass altars. Extinguished, melted candles and aged paintings of the dead blur past, and soon I step into the sun.</p> <p>The cave leads into the enormous garden courtyard of a ruined building, where forking paths overgrown by unchecked greenery traipse into sunlit tunnels made by flowering trees and gleaming marble archways. The sky above is the bluest blue describable, and I see it for a moment, framed through a three-story balcony that lines the courtyard walls, before I have to run again. I sidestep past and jump over broken, toppled statues of a once-coherent human form, racing into the labyrinth.</p> <p>Sometimes I reach the shade of the indoor forest, sometimes I get a little further and see rooms- a decaying piano and some scattered books-, clearings with ponds or wildflowers, gold leaf here and there, but I am always outpaced and caught by my animalistic pursuer.</p> <p>When it happens, I wake, and I return to my reality. I am in no hanging garden, but an apartment, and I remember responsibility. There’s work that needs to be done, for the ordinary profession that I call my own, and I’m perpetually behind. It’s a Herculean task to meet my quotas, for even as I work late into the night, new tasks pile up faster than I can complete them. As I work later, I grow more exhausted and work less, and yet I cannot sleep, for when I try I am met with the anxiety that I could still be working. When I do finally fall asleep, face-down on my desk with my laptop and paper, I can only dream of the garden before the cycle repeats. I pull up my blind, and look down onto the small-city streets from my second floor window, where I see light rain and fall leaves, trees a quarter of the way to becoming barren, a procession of people and umbrellas, wrapped in coats and scarves while walking or driving over bridges to get here or back, and while the light from the cloudy sky is more than enough to see by, the streetlights have not turned off yet. Pre-recorded jazz is emanating from the coffee shop across the street, and my ceiling fan spins lazily above me. Down the hill, that awful intersection continues being terrible, and white fog dots the tips of distant buildings. Forty degrees, and I have to bike to work.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p>I fall asleep in my bed this time at a reasonable 12:28 AM, and run once more through the garden. This time, I pass through a small maze of short, fragrant hedges, before stumbling upon a cracked stone staircase with a three-quarter turn. As I hit the ground, I see the path ahead; there is an archway bridge partially demolished by a mighty ash, and I wake up.</p> <p>In the real world, it is windy, dark, and cold outside of the blanket. It’s before dawn, and I seem to have left a window open overnight. My laptop lies overturned on the floor, and the air inside my apartment is crisp in a way that makes me dread the upcoming bike to work, with the cold atmosphere being painfully sucked into my lungs as I breathe.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p>I’m entranced by this structure, and what it represents for me. I now have a sense of mystery and adventure that I have not felt since I was a child, in times when I was lost in libraries and parks, but only within these short, tantalizing visions. I want the time to experience this strange and ancient land, rather than run through it at a breakneck pace. I want to taste the exotic fruit upon the trees, I want to read the crumbling pages of the decaying books, I want to lay down in the garden stream and feel the water run through my hair as I listen to the insects sing.</p> <p>But I can’t have that, and soon enough, I wake into my life of work and more of it. Rustling paper, swirling fall leaves, burnt, cheap coffee, misty rains and rolling fogs, they make me sick in a way that nothing else does now. I’m a prisoner counting the minute details in their tomb, aching to see the outside in all its glory, if even just for a day. I can’t even have a day; the longest dream within the garden has never been much more than a minute or two. I need to see that blue again.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p>I scramble up the steep slope of a toppled tower, thick vines and roots giving traction to the featureless marble brick, and leap onto a high battlement. This is the highest that I have been before within this dream, and I can see now the full extent of the garden; I am on the far border, below me and off the battlement is a field of rolling grass, with trees and the light of the sun on glass in the distance. On the other side, the marble maze stretches on for at least a mile, and forms a sort of great “U” shape, which rests by the side of a lake. Rolling hills and great forests block the horizon. I pause reflexively for just a moment to gaze at the gleaming glass, and I am caught.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p>In the real world, I have a friend who is an EMT. Her morals are complicated, which is exactly what I need for my plan tonight. Apparently she supplies opioids to those who ask, and it makes her the money that she needs for her sister to eat. Business has clearly been good, for as I talk to her and ask her for her chemical boon, I hear that her young counterpart even goes to a private school now.</p> <p>She gives me enough pills to meet my needs, and I ask her if she can watch me while I take them, giving me the opioid-reversing naloxone if things go south. She agrees.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>…</p> </div> <p>Tonight’s dream is different. I can hear the wind, feel the stones beneath my feet, and feel my heartbeat slowing in the real world as the sedatives take effect. For the first time, I don’t hear my pursuer bolting up the stairs, but rather, a walking pace. In one world, my breath grows stronger while it grows weaker in another, and I decide to turn around, to finally see my enemy.</p> <p>It’s a human shape, trudging up the stairs with a visible exhaustion, and to keep ahead, I step out of the cave, and prepare for my final escape.</p> <p>It steps into the light, and I see my pursuer.</p> <p>It is my friend, and in her hands is a bottle of naloxone.</p> <p>Her eyes are red and puffy, and she takes a knee, no longer having the energy to chase me at that breakneck pace, and to save me by bringing me back to the waking world.</p> <p>My pulse stops.</p> <p>I run into the labyrinth once more, smelling the boxwood and the lilac.</p> <p>I don’t let her catch me.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-cave-and-the-garden">The Cave and the Garden</a>" by Kensing, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-cave-and-the-garden">https://scpwiki.com/the-cave-and-the-garden</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The dream begins in a cave, where my surroundings are more clear than any dream that I have ever seen or heard of. Around me, I see dark stone, shaped over millennia by water. Below me are stairs, carved into a gentle slope by human hand, that guide me upwards as a gentle stream flows through small channels flanking my path. Webs of white light dance across the roof above as the light from the distant surface sun reflects the water’s rippling onto the stone. I look back and the cave grows steeper; there the stairs twist down into the black abyss. I hear faint pattering at first, and it registers with horror that something is running up the stairs. I sprint, hoping to beat the breakneck pace of the unseen creature, and as I leap up the path, I pass altars. Extinguished, melted candles and aged paintings of the dead blur past, and soon I step into the sun. The cave leads into the enormous garden courtyard of a ruined building, where forking paths overgrown by unchecked greenery traipse into sunlit tunnels made by flowering trees and gleaming marble archways. The sky above is the bluest blue describable, and I see it for a moment, framed through a three-story balcony that lines the courtyard walls, before I have to run again. I sidestep past and jump over broken, toppled statues of a once-coherent human form, racing into the labyrinth. Sometimes I reach the shade of the indoor forest, sometimes I get a little further and see rooms- a decaying piano and some scattered books-, clearings with ponds or wildflowers, gold leaf here and there, but I am always outpaced and caught by my animalistic pursuer. When it happens, I wake, and I return to my reality. I am in no hanging garden, but an apartment, and I remember responsibility. There’s work that needs to be done, for the ordinary profession that I call my own, and I’m perpetually behind. It’s a Herculean task to meet my quotas, for even as I work late into the night, new tasks pile up faster than I can complete them. As I work later, I grow more exhausted and work less, and yet I cannot sleep, for when I try I am met with the anxiety that I could still be working. When I do finally fall asleep, face-down on my desk with my laptop and paper, I can only dream of the garden before the cycle repeats. I pull up my blind, and look down onto the small-city streets from my second floor window, where I see light rain and fall leaves, trees a quarter of the way to becoming barren, a procession of people and umbrellas, wrapped in coats and scarves while walking or driving over bridges to get here or back, and while the light from the cloudy sky is more than enough to see by, the streetlights have not turned off yet. Pre-recorded jazz is emanating from the coffee shop across the street, and my ceiling fan spins lazily above me. Down the hill, that awful intersection continues being terrible, and white fog dots the tips of distant buildings. Forty degrees, and I have to bike to work. [[=]] … [[/=]] I fall asleep in my bed this time at a reasonable 12:28 AM, and run once more through the garden. This time, I pass through a small maze of short, fragrant hedges, before stumbling upon a cracked stone staircase with a three-quarter turn. As I hit the ground, I see the path ahead; there is an archway bridge partially demolished by a mighty ash, and I wake up. In the real world, it is windy, dark, and cold outside of the blanket. It’s before dawn, and I seem to have left a window open overnight. My laptop lies overturned on the floor, and the air inside my apartment is crisp in a way that makes me dread the upcoming bike to work, with the cold atmosphere being painfully sucked into my lungs as I breathe. [[=]] … [[/=]] I’m entranced by this structure, and what it represents for me. I now have a sense of mystery and adventure that I have not felt since I was a child, in times when I was lost in libraries and parks, but only within these short, tantalizing visions. I want the time to experience this strange and ancient land, rather than run through it at a breakneck pace. I want to taste the exotic fruit upon the trees, I want to read the crumbling pages of the decaying books, I want to lay down in the garden stream and feel the water run through my hair as I listen to the insects sing. But I can’t have that, and soon enough, I wake into my life of work and more of it. Rustling paper, swirling fall leaves, burnt, cheap coffee, misty rains and rolling fogs, they make me sick in a way that nothing else does now. I’m a prisoner counting the minute details in their tomb, aching to see the outside in all its glory, if even just for a day. I can’t even have a day; the longest dream within the garden has never been much more than a minute or two. I need to see that blue again. [[=]] … [[/=]] I scramble up the steep slope of a toppled tower, thick vines and roots giving traction to the featureless marble brick, and leap onto a high battlement. This is the highest that I have been before within this dream, and I can see now the full extent of the garden; I am on the far border, below me and off the battlement is a field of rolling grass, with trees and the light of the sun on glass in the distance. On the other side, the marble maze stretches on for at least a mile, and forms a sort of great “U” shape, which rests by the side of a lake. Rolling hills and great forests block the horizon. I pause reflexively for just a moment to gaze at the gleaming glass, and I am caught. [[=]] … [[/=]] In the real world, I have a friend who is an EMT. Her morals are complicated, which is exactly what I need for my plan tonight. Apparently she supplies opioids to those who ask, and it makes her the money that she needs for her sister to eat. Business has clearly been good, for as I talk to her and ask her for her chemical boon, I hear that her young counterpart even goes to a private school now. She gives me enough pills to meet my needs, and I ask her if she can watch me while I take them, giving me the opioid-reversing naloxone if things go south. She agrees. [[=]] ... [[/=]] Tonight’s dream is different. I can hear the wind, feel the stones beneath my feet, and feel my heartbeat slowing in the real world as the sedatives take effect. For the first time, I don’t hear my pursuer bolting up the stairs, but rather, a walking pace. In one world, my breath grows stronger while it grows weaker in another, and I decide to turn around, to finally see my enemy. It’s a human shape, trudging up the stairs with a visible exhaustion, and to keep ahead, I step out of the cave, and prepare for my final escape. It steps into the light, and I see my pursuer. It is my friend, and in her hands is a bottle of naloxone. Her eyes are red and puffy, and she takes a knee, no longer having the energy to chase me at that breakneck pace, and to save me by bringing me back to the waking world. My pulse stops. I run into the labyrinth once more, smelling the boxwood and the lilac. I don’t let her catch me. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Kensing]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-05-13T21:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "creepypasta", "tale" ]	The Cave and the Garden - SCP Foundation	12	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "creepy-pasta" ]	[]	1447731705	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-cave-and-the-garden
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</span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span class="hl-code">/</span><span class="hl-identifier">css2</span><span class="hl-code">?</span><span class="hl-identifier">family</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">New</span><span class="hl-code">+</span><span class="hl-identifier">Tegomin</span><span class="hl-code">&</span><span class="hl-identifier">display</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-identifier">swap</span><span class="hl-code">'); </span><span class="hl-var">@import</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">url</span><span class="hl-code">('</span><span class="hl-identifier">https</span><span class="hl-code">://</span><span class="hl-identifier">fonts.googleapis.com</span><span 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class="hl-var">#000212</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> linear-gradient( to </span><span class="hl-string">bottom</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">20</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">.2</span><span class="hl-code">), rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">20</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">20</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">31</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">.8</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">31</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">.8</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">200</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">400</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">, rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">), url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aragnarok-theme/starfield.jpg')</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SCROLLBAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-track</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> ::-</span><span class="hl-identifier">webkit-scrollbar-thumb</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">HEADER</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#container-wrap</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#extra-div-1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">164</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--lgurl)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> contain</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-repeat:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">no-repeat</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Move</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">subtitle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">down</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">smidge</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.45</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Hide</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">existing</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Style</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">new</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">text</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--headerColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'New Tegomin', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Set</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">new</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">text</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">variable</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-title, "R A G N A R O K")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">300</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--header-subtitle, "The End of </span><span class="hl-string">All</span><span class="hl-code"> Things")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">600</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.22</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#login-status</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#account-topbutton</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#license-area</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2.2</span><span class="hl-code">rem!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">submit</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box-form</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">input</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">type</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-var">text</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">TOP</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#2F333C</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li.sfhover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ul</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">color</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">SIDE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div#side-bar</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">clear:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">both</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.8</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow-x:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'New Tegomin', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.94</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> space-evenly</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.resources</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.menu-item</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.image</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#top-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.open-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 767</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.7</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">18.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.close-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> width </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, opacity </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">fixed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgba(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">18.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.close-menu</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">18.6</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">pointer-events:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">target</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.close-menu</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.list-pages-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.list-pages-item</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">5.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.heading</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#search-top-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">107</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">TABS</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BASE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background-image:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">;</span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-reserved">line-height:</span><span class="hl-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">YUI</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOMIZATION</span><span class="hl-code"> ----</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-wrap:</span><span class="hl-code"> wrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">UNSELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> background-color </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">HOVER</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Listitem</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-bottom</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> flex</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">align-items:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">justify-content:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">li</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.35</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> ellipsis</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code">, /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Modifier</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex-grow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tab</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Colour</span><span class="hl-code"> \| [</span><span class="hl-identifier">SELECTED</span><span class="hl-code">] ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">em</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:focus</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-nav</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.selected</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:active</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset-top</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">TAB</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ANIMATION</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Croquembouche</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform-origin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">The</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">following</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">transition</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">affects</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">one</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">that</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DISAPPEARS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> padding </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s linear </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s, border-width </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s linear </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s, flex </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.18</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.51</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.54</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> tab-disappear </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">both</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-navset</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.yui-content</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div</span><span class="hl-brackets">[</span><span class="hl-var">style</span><span class="hl-code">=</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-quotes">"</span><span class="hl-brackets">]</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">block</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">flex:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9999</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">The</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">following</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">transition</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">affects</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">one</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">that</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">APPEARS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> padding </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s linear </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s, border-width </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">s linear </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s, flex </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.18</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.51</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.54</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation:</span><span class="hl-code"> tab-appear </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">both</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tab-disappear</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9999</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 1% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tab-appear</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> 0% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 99% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> 100% </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">9999</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">INFO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BAR</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">body</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">barColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3a414f</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">linkColour:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-content</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.5</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">30</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Ayer</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">s</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">info-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">by</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Monkatraz</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-content</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">INFO</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">PANE</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditRate</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButton</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButtonStandalone</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.creditButtonStandalone</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modalbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#2F333C</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.close-credits</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.credit-back</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> grayscale(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-string">invert</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">) contrast(</span><span class="hl-number">275</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">RATING</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-radius:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-points</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">capitalize</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rateup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.ratedown</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-rate-widget-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.cancel</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">PAGE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ELEMENTS</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">tt</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Courier Prime", </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.87</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.code</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">pre</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.code</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">p</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.code</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> "Courier Prime", </span><span class="hl-string">monospace</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.87</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'New Tegomin', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#EDEDED</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'New Tegomin', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-family:</span><span class="hl-code"> 'New Tegomin', </span><span class="hl-string">sans-serif</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.65</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-align:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">center</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Clicky</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">links</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">s linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:visited:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.newpage</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> hue-rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">180</span><span class="hl-code">deg)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">patch</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">sidebar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">media</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsibles</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">ACS</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">ayers</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">module</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">doesn</span><span class="hl-code">'</span><span class="hl-identifier">t</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">override</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.rate-box-with-credit-button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.fa-info</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#side-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.side-block.media</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.danger-diamond</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.info-container</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--linkColour) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">hr</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.blockquote</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#toc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3a414f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#2F333C</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.code</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#F8F8F8</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#2F333C</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.26</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-caption</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">4</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.84</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-left</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 540</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-left</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scp-image-block.block-right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">float:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">clear:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">both</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">th</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">set</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">border</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.wiki-content-table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">tr</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">td</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">set</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">border</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">table</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">fancy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">collapsible</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#3a414f</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">background</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">s linear</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">fr</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">hidden</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "▷ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> "▽ "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">text-decoration:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-weight:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">bold</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.26</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-folded</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">#page-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.collapsible-block-unfolded-link</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ :</span><span class="hl-special">:selection</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ffffff</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Footnotes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.hovertip</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">font-size:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor) !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.24</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnotes-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.footnote</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.f-footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.equation</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.e-footer</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.reference</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.r-footer</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">display:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#main-content</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.18</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.page-tags</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">span</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Pop-Up</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Windows</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal-header</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.modal-body</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">img</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code"> !important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.title</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> #var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#2F333C</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.owindow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.button-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Edit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.buttons</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.btn</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#21252E</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Edit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Lock</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Info</span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">#lock-info</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Close</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Button</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">for</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Page</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Source</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Rating</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">Etc</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">a.action-area-close</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Page-History</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Current</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.pager</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.current</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">INTERWIKI</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.scpnet-interwiki-frame</span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">filter:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">invert</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">) grayscale(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">) contrast(</span><span class="hl-number">75</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier">CUSTOM</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">SYNTAX</span><span class="hl-code"> ---- </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.darkbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.26</span><span class="hl-code">rem var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.26</span><span class="hl-code">rem var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.lightbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#ededed</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.26</span><span class="hl-code">rem var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.26</span><span class="hl-code">rem var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.lightbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h2</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.lightbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h3</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.lightbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h4</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.lightbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h5</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.lightbox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">h6</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.limit</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anchor</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> sticky</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">.14</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">margin-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">8</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">870</span><span class="hl-string">px</span><span class="hl-code">)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">103.5</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">5</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-sizing:</span><span class="hl-code"> border-box</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">mobile</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">optimization</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">courtesy</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">of</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Woed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (max-width: 1290</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">auto</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">65</span><span class="hl-code">vw!important</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">none</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-left:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - </span><span class="hl-number">45.8</span><span class="hl-code">rem)/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">) -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">left:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">webkit-clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">(-</span><span class="hl-number">0.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem -</span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">0.85</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">(-</span><span class="hl-number">0.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem -</span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">0.85</span><span class="hl-code">rem))</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">webkit-transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">o-transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">visible</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">content:</span><span class="hl-code"> " "</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">50</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> border </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">10</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">::</span><span class="hl-identifier">after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">height:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.15</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-height:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vh - </span><span class="hl-number">18</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#050a14</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">z-index:</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, max-width </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">webkit-transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> opacity </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">o-transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> opacity </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> opacity </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">overflow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">visible</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">webkit-clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">(-</span><span class="hl-number">0.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem -</span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inset</span><span class="hl-code">(-</span><span class="hl-number">0.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem -</span><span class="hl-number">0.25</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">webkit-transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s, </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s, </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; -</span><span class="hl-reserved">o-transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s, </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s, </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transition:</span><span class="hl-code"> color </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s, </span><span class="hl-string">right</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-clip-path </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s, -webkit-box-shadow </span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s ease-in-out </span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-reserved">hover:</span><span class="hl-code">:before { border-top: </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">border-bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">solid</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">transparent</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:after</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">box-shadow:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> -</span><span class="hl-number">0.125</span><span class="hl-code">rem </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code"> var(--accentColor)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">max-width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-special">:hover</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">opacity:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> } </span><span class="hl-var">@media</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">max-width</span><span class="hl-code">:768</span><span class="hl-identifier">px</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">.sidebox</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-identifier">hover</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">right:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(((</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-code">vw - (</span><span class="hl-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> - </span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">rem))/</span><span class="hl-number">2</span><span class="hl-code">) * -</span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code"> + </span><span class="hl-number">1.9</span><span class="hl-code">rem)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-special">:root</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> --</span><span class="hl-reserved">accentColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#9e9e9e</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">headerColor:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">#8a0101</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">lgurl:</span><span class="hl-code"> url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%</span><span class="hl-number">3</span><span class="hl-code">Aragnarok-theme/ragnarok1.png")</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/einer-von-rabe" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262924); return false;"><img alt="Einer von Rabe" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3262924&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725248520" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3262924)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/einer-von-rabe" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3262924); return false;">Einer von Rabe</a></span><br/> and <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vapidpoem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8631823); return false;"><img alt="VapidPoem" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8631823&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725248520" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8631823)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/vapidpoem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8631823); return false;">VapidPoem</a></span></p> </div> <p><a href="/scp-2106">She</a> flew over the landscape with two hundred wings. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> gazed at the silhouettes below <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> with a hundred pairs of eyes. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> has many consciousnesses, but they all form one spirit - <span style="color: #c248ac">Her</span> spirit.</p> <p>Many of <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> beaks open and emit a cry. A cry for help that becomes a cry of warning. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> could almost feel the fear of the ground-bound fleeing the swarm. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> is an omen of doom. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> does not want to be this, but <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> understands.</p> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> does not understand who <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> is now. It was different from when <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> was few. Is this the hereafter? Purgatory? Perhaps a punishment for something?</p> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> is scared. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> is not frightened. <span style="color: c248acc248ac">She</span> is lost.</p> <hr/> <p><a href="/scp-049">The doctor</a> gently dabs the wound with cotton wool. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Her</span> black, ancient-looking face mask has something of a crow about it, which is not entirely at odds with the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">doctor's</span> aura. Like one of the winged scavengers, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> bends over the half-dead body of one of her patients, a young man with a high fever.</p> <p>There is a barely perceptible trembling and hesitation in the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor's</span> movements. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> wants her research to succeed. They must. Helplessly, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> suppresses the panic that one false move or too high a dose of <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> tincture would ruin all the effort. Ruin it, as it has done too often.</p> <p>The eyes of <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> patient's family stab into <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> like rusty needles, as if they want the Doctor to fail. It's all paranoia, but the wariness towards the strange foreign <span style="color: #5e5ef2">woman</span> is real. The Doctor is aware of her <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> eccentricity. Therefore, it must not fail. It <strong>can't</strong> fail.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: c248acc248ac">She</span> is carried high by a wind, almost so high that <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> could be above the clouds. The wind carries her across the wide blue of the Atlantic to the east.</p> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> feels the chill on thousands of feathers, but it is more like a gentle caress from a friend. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> notices that she enjoys flying. A hundred wings beating to a song that only <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> perceives.</p> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> forgets the terror she brought with <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> mass, for up here <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> is alone with her thoughts.</p> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> thinks about what draws <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> to Europe. It is a feeling that <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> is missing something and that over there is that something. Perhaps it is the answer to what <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> is.</p> <p>No matter what it is, <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> is filled with an immense anticipation and bliss for which <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> doesn't care what it can be.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> limps wheezing down the country road. A road sign welcomes <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> to the town of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bitche" target="_blank">Bitche</a>. A small cozy settlement along the Franco-German border.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> shivers from anger and frustration. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> was so close, so damn close to the solution, a cure.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> reaches the city boundary and follows the signs to the center. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Her</span> mask hangs around <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> neck. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Her</span> outfit draws attention to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>, as is to be expected. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> pretends not to notice. Playing it down, as if <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> is on her way to a live-action role-playing Renaissance fair, even though <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> has no idea if there would actually be people like her walking around.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> maneuvers herself into a street restaurant and sinks into a chair. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> slides the suitcase between <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> legs and puts <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> skirt over it to conceal it a little.</p> <p>A young waiter saunters up to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> and looks at <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> questioningly. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> taps one of the pictures with the juices, barely paying attention to what <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> ordered.</p> <p>Mere minutes after ordering the waiter returned with an Orangina Rouge, which made the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> hesitate for a moment, but in the end <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> decides that <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> could try something new. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> sucked on the straw and pulled a snout. Much too sweet and sour.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> crosses the border from the long and peaceful Atlantic to the coasts of Spain. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> flies over the land, over the rivers, over the deserts, over the mountains.</p> <p>As <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> looks down <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> sees the people, once again terrified of <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> mere shadow. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> sighs as <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> peace over the sea is gone.</p> <p>The screams start to fade as <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> flies through the land, over the towering Pyrenees toward the voice that seems to sound like what <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> longed for.</p> <p>As <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> got closer <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> heard the beautiful song. As soon as <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> heard it her mind forgot any stress or panic from those who judged <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span>. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> tried to fly faster, and as the sound got louder <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> knew <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> was getting closer.</p> <hr/> <p>The sting of failure from <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> earlier patient cuts deep. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> was only one step away from saving the patient. <strong>One</strong> damn step. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> is sure of it!</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> had devoted <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> life to finding a cure for it only to fail patient after patient as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> roamed through Europe trying to save as many lives as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> could.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> drank deep into the night trying to think of what went wrong. Drinking <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> angers and sorrows away.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> eventually leaves the tavern, leaving a few notes to pay for the sour drink as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> wandered down the streets of the town 'till <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> finally spotted a hotel. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> goes in and rents a room for the night, although <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> couldn't get much sleep. It is still bothering her as to what could possibly be wrong with her cure after all of these centuries.</p> <p>Early in the morning. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> departs to wander through the misty streets of the town.</p> <hr/> <p>As <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> flew through the night <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> couldn't help but feel the calm wash over her as the people below went to sleep and <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> was once again left alone in the sky with nothing but <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> thoughts.</p> <p>But as <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> soared through the sky <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> heard a lone cry replacing the wonderful music with the sorrowful crying. <span style="color: #c248ac">Her</span> hundreds of wings work in unison to race towards the source and comfort the voice whose pain sounded all too familiar.</p> <p>As the sun started to rise <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> found the source of the sound was within a small village, though it was covered in a thick mist. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> began to descend and fly low throughout the town.</p> <p>Then <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> saw <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. They looked much the same but yet so different. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> was walking over the stone paths and <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> could tell that the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> was the source of the pained cries.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> had been lost in <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> thoughts a short time ago, but now <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> was examining the <span style="color: #c248ac">conspiracy of ravens</span> that had appeared in the sky. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> had had a very brief encounter with these fascinating birds. When under the cover of night during wars <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> would scavenge the corpses of the deceased from war fields and mass graves. Not exactly an activity <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> was proud of, but one <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> deemed a justifiable evil as it helped <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> in <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> quest.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> shielded <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> eyes from the mid-morning sun as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> had taken off <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hat.</p> <p>The size of the swarm is unusual and concerning, and as far as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> can tell, the individual animals are also more bulky. One of the largest almost reached the wingspan of an eagle.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> dabbled only peripherally in ornithology, but the <span style="color: #c248ac">conspiracy's</span> flight pattern was very noticeably focused.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> takes a look around for a possible reason. There is no one to be seen around for miles. No farms, no food laying about, no corpses. Only <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> grabs <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> suitcase and clutches <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hat to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> head before <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> starts to sprint. The shrieking of the ravens grows louder as the flock descends.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor's</span> steps become heavier until <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> has to come to a stop, gasping heavily. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> is so drained that <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> breath only comes out of <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> mouth in wheezes.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> had not managed to shake off the ravens, but some distance lay between them.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">The Raven</span> saw the poor <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> running through the stone brick streets of the small town, struggling to keep <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> suitcase in <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hands and <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hat on <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> head.</p> <p><span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> descended and attempted to come closer to the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> to provide comfort. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> couldn't afford to let another soul experience the same pain and longing <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> had always felt. Not while being so close to helping them.</p> <p>After what seemed like an eternity the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> finally slowed until reaching a halt. Though the distance was great the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> easily glided over the path towards the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span>.</p> <p>As <span style="color: #c248ac">the Raven</span> moved to the sole <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> began to unite <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> form into that of a human. With a tall figure that easily towers over the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> in front of <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span>.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> realized the ravens were still chasing <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>, and after mere seconds the distance had closed. With a dash, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> ran further throughout the town. As the mist cleared the small rays of sun were blocked by clouds, which cried the first tears of rain.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">The Doctor</span> dashed for any cover <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> found that most doors were closed. Likely trying to shun <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> and leave <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> fate with the <span style="color: #c248ac">conspiracy</span>. Eventually <span style="color: #5e5ef2">the Doctor</span> came across a bridge outside the city, hiding under it as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> tried to seek shelter.</p> <p>Alas, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">the Doctor</span> tripped over a cobblestone and by then was too exhausted to try to catch <span style="color: #5e5ef2">herself</span>. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> almost expects the ravens to swoop down on <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>.</p> <p>But <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> didn't feel the hard stone floor.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> feels <span style="color: #5e5ef2">herself</span> being raised up and a large, warm, black mass enveloped her. Feathers rustled and a soft and gently raspy voice whispered, "Do not fear. <span style="color: #c248ac">I</span> have found <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span>, Beloved."</p> <hr/> <p>It had recently started pouring out of buckets, so the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">doctor</span> had to take shelter in a barn. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> is shivering now in a pile of straw on a higher floor because <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> is completely soaked to the bone.</p> <p>The strange bird creature takes one last look outside, closes the gate, and rustlingly steps towards <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> perceives the creature's appearance for the first time. The body is covered in blue-black feathers and is similar to that of a human, although much larger. On its shoulders sits a head with a woman's face framed by brown curls that stand out in a strange way against the black. The little bit of skin that can be seen was tanned.</p> <p>With one of her hands, the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> caresses <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> forehead. "Oh, you're all icy. Come now, get into new clothes or you'll catch a cold."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> notices the doctor's displeasure, and tries to reassure her <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. "Don't worry, is not going to judge you, Darling.“, <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> teases in broken French.</p> <p>After coaxing <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> "patient" to change into a beige linen dress they found hanging in the barn, <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> drapes a military wool blanket over the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">doctor</span>, which <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> had found in a crate, and snuggles up to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> in the straw.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> does not dare to fight back, but recognizes that the mysterious <span style="color: #c248ac">monster</span> is <em>more</em> than affable of <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. Nevertheless, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> is embarrassed to lay cuddled up together with <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> in a stranger's barn trying to get warm.</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">Her</span> eyes close and <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> drifts off into a deep sleep.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="color: #af6efa">They</span> both awake nearly in unison with each other. By then the sun had started to shift into night. <span style="color: #af6efa">They</span> both got dressed and left for the town, although the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> seems annoyed at the <span style="color: #c248ac">monster's</span> presence.</p> <p>"Why are <span style="color: #c248ac">you</span> following <span style="color: #5e5ef2">me</span>?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> asked the presence behind <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. Instead of answering, the <span style="color: #c248ac">monster</span> simply giggled and continued to walk behind <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> sighed, and walked into the town, searching for a patient. After hours of searching through the night, she found a tiny house buried deep in the countryside with her patient inside. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> walked into the house finding an elderly man lying on a bed. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> could sense that the man was obviously sick with the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span>. As the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> tried to work on curing the man, the <span style="color: #c248ac">monster</span> periodically arrived with gifts of cloth, candles, and medicine from the town. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> nodded in gratitude and proceeded with the operation to save the poor man from the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span>.</p> <p>As the hours ticked by and the night grew darker the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow's</span> work seemed to be coming closer and closer to a final success! The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> came ever so close to finally perfecting <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> cure, only for it to fail at the last second. The patient succumbed to the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span> right before <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> operation could save him. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> let out a scream in frustration that could be heard across the entire countryside. As the sting of failure washed over <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> felt a warm <span style="color: #c248ac">presence</span> comfort her. A hug from the <span style="color: #c248ac">monster</span> behind <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. As the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> left the house the sun began to rise. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> and the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> left in somber while going to the city.</p> <hr/> <p>People discreetly tried to avoid the <span style="color: #af6efa">pair</span> as they were walking, not infrequently making signs of the cross. Mothers had already called their children back before <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> even came by.</p> <p>The <span style="color: c248acc248ac">Raven</span> did not seem to care, as <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> happily kept walking behind the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span>, occasionally plucking a flower from a window ledge and placing it in the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span>'s hair and <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hat. By the time they were done a bonnet of flowers decorated <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hair.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span>, on the other hand, has some difficulty in carrying out her activities, such as buying provisions and utensils and concentrating on finding possible victims of the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span>.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> sits down on one of the benches that have been placed on a hill. All the walking had made <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> tired.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> hardly seems tired and hums a melody.</p> <p>"I'm so glad <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you're</span> finally having a rest. All that doctoring around looks very draining," <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> says, "Here, have something to eat. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> look very pale."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> looks at the thing the <span style="color: #c248ac">monster</span> is holding out to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>, which <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> had apparently pulled out of the folds of <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> plumage. It was a round and juicy apple.</p> <p>"Where did you get it?"</p> <p>"A child gifted it to me."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> eyes the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> skeptically, which makes her look sheepish, but <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> accepts the fruit. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> retrieves a knife from <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> pocket and cuts the apple into thin slices. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> hands one half to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> friend.</p> <p>"Here, let's <span style="color: #af6efa">share</span> it."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> smiles and so does the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span>.</p> <hr/> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> drags herself along the country road towards the border of the Republic. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> is worn out and <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> clothes are soaked with sweat and filth from working all day in the battle against the pestilence.</p> <p>"'Darling. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> are straining yourself. Let <span style="color: #c248ac">me</span> help <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span>"</p> <p>"Help comes too late. All are dead" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> mumbles, barely audible and delirious. Then <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> slumps down.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> takes <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> to the wayside and dabs the sweat from <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> friend's forehead.</p> <p>"Let me help <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span>," <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> repeats, "Climb on my back."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> is too weak to even put up any resistance. As soon as <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> had found a place on the back, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> friend said: "Hold on tight now“.</p> <p>With a cracking and rustling sound, the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> takes on <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> other form and opens <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> wings, now larger and one pair instead of hundreds.</p> <p>"Wha-wha-what?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> could barely manage to stammer before the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> of them flew towards the sky.</p> <hr/> <p>As the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> soared among the clouds <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> stared at the world beneath them. Seemingly so peaceful, although the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> knew all too well about the dangers the world faced. That is why <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> had to cure the poor suffering souls beneath her.</p> <p>As <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> descended, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> was confused to find them at a different location than the farm the two had slept within. "Where have you taken me? What are you doing?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> asked, but the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> simply giggled and let the two down at a small cafe. "<span style="color: #c248ac">I</span> am taking <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span> on a date. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> need a break, you have worked too long and too hard without rest." <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> said as <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> orders two coffees for both of them.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> sheepishly orders a bowl of bread from the waitress for the two to split and sink back against her chair. "Fine. But only for a few minutes, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> need to focus on the cure." The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> laughs. "<span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> need to spend at least 30 minutes relaxing. It will work wonders! You are a doctor you should know this!"</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> grits her teeth and accepts the "date" the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> has decided to take her on. As the waitress comes back with their basket and coffee while she takes out her notebook and a pen and asks, "Anything else I can get you <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span>?" The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> speaks up first, "I'll take a French onion soup and a bottle of red wine." The waitress nods and turns to look at the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span>. "I'll just have the same soup." The waitress nods and walks back to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> pours herself a glass and takes a few sips.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>After 10 minutes the waitress walked out with steaming hot bowls of soup that looked enough to make <span style="color: #af6efa">their</span> mouths water. The cheese looked perfectly browned and the scent was almost intoxicating. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> quickly tried to dig in but realized her mistake all too late as the food almost burnt her tongue. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> giggled and handed her her cup of water to cool it down. "Perhaps it may be smart to wait a few seconds~". The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> laughs at herself,</p> <p>"Perhaps."</p> <p>After <span style="color: #af6efa">their</span> food cools down at least slightly the <span style="color: #643b94">two</span> dig in, enjoying every bite. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> notices the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> is getting rather tipsy, and so<br/> <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> tries to set a hand down on <span style="color: #c248ac">hers</span>, "Perhaps <span style="color: #af6efa">we</span> should go home. It is rather late~" The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> sighs but accepts. "Okaaaaaay….. Buuuuuuuuut you should drink some of this." She held up the bottle, half of the wine still remaining. "We don't want it to go to waste!" the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> drunkenly laughed and put the bottle in <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> hand before leaning against her shoulder.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> struggles to keep the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> up but obliges and takes a small sip. She is surprised as her last drink from the town left her with a sour and bitter flavor. But in contrast, the new drink left her with a feeling of warm happiness. As her small tastes turn into more sips the feeling inside her only gets warmer and warmer, until the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> are frolicking through the streets, In that moment they couldn't care less about what anyone thought or said about them. Not even the waitress yelling at them that silver coins were not a valid currency and they still needed to pay could distract the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span>.</p> <p>Before <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> knew it, the rest of the bottle was gone and the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> were drunk on the street in each other's clutches. With it now dark in the night the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> perhaps out of drunkenness begins to extend her hundreds of wings again, scooping up the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> in <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> arms as <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> fly high into the refreshing night air.</p> <hr/> <p>"My skull hurts so much …" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> whines, "What possessed me to get drunk …?"</p> <p>"Do you want an honest answer?"</p> <p>"No, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> can guess. Why don't you have a hangover?"</p> <p><span style="color: #5e5ef2">Her</span> friend points to a clump of corvids. Some are holding onto branches from a bush while lying on their backs on the ground. Others rolled down a slope. But the majority are lying on top of a big hill.</p> <p>"'Neat trick'"</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> rummages in <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> bag and takes out an ointment, which <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> smears all over <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> face. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> watches <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> with wonder. "<em>Papaver Somniferum</em> ointment," the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> explained. "Where are we, anyway?"</p> <p>"An excellent question." The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> replies. "No idea."</p> <hr/> <p>The odd <span style="color: #af6efa">couple</span> had been walking on a mountainside path for about an hour and a half. However stunning the scenery, it doesn't change the fact that <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> are helpless to figure out where <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> found themselves again after a hazy night.</p> <p>"<span style="color: #5e5ef2">I'm</span> never going on a date with <span style="color: #c248ac">you</span> again."</p> <p>"Oh come on, don't be so mean, Darling. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> clearly enjoyed last night."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> grumbles something before kneeling down and studying the herbarium. "The plants here are rather astonishing. We are near the Alps, but none of them fit my collection"</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> crouches down next to <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> and looks over <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> shoulder. "Nice collection. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> really are a little nerd"</p> <p>"<span style="color: #5e5ef2">I'm</span> a doctor, what did <span style="color: #c248ac">you</span> expect?"</p> <p>"Touché"</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> gives the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> a shove against the shoulder. "<span style="color: #c248ac">I</span> could be wrong, but is that a signpost there?"</p> <p>"It certainly wasn't there ten minutes ago."</p> <hr/> <p>The <span style="color: #af6efa">couple</span> had followed the path and saw a town in the distance. According to the signpost, <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> seem to be on their way to <a href="/locations-of-interest#sjhlfels" target="_blank">Sjhlfels am Rhein</a>.</p> <p>The farmhouses that can be seen from the gravel road have an interesting mix of Swiss and Dutch-Belgian architecture, which were not infrequently found on hilltops. The majority of the grazing animals are familiar species such as cows, sheep, and goats, but occasionally there were creatures that neither the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> nor the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> could give a name to.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>The city limits are bordered by a dry stone wall on which children of different cultures frolic with their pets. A small tollhouse stands at the gate, but the man inside waves the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> of them through with a big smile. Perplexing <span style="color: #af6efa">them</span> as the guard took no toll.</p> <p>"That was quick," remarks the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span>, "<span style="color: #af6efa">We</span> must have wandered around for an hour and now <span style="color: #af6efa">we're</span> standing in a city."</p> <p>Then <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> notices how much the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> has fallen into amazement.</p> <p>In fact, Sjhlfels has a very peculiar aura: the houses with flats and shops have a style all their own, where you can see the original cultures, not only from Central Europe and ordinary cultures. Next to a terraced brick house, there could be a twisting tower of glass and steel. There is also no homogeneous clothing culture: linen shirts, hanbok, cowls, silk scarves, and much more were found. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> is sure that some people even wore leather garments with fringes that moved of their own accord. On the streets, Humans, Dwarves, and Albae walked alongside people with visible electronic implants and deformations and animal beings straight out of a fable.</p> <p>Even the geography is uncommon. Despite the clearly visible Alps, a wind blew sea air from the north through a fine mist. Bridges crossed small channels at regular intervals.</p> <p>It seemed as if a child, out of sheer enthusiasm, had built a city out of all the favorite sights from the holiday destinations they had visited, mixing reality with legends.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> and the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> are now sitting in a café, blown away by it all.</p> <hr/> <p>The <span style="color: #af6efa">couple</span> looked over the menu given to them. Many of the items on it looked familiar enough, such as bread, milk, salads, and cake. But as they looked around much of the food the other restaurant-goers were eating seemed alien. Yellow-skinned fruits with green flesh, purple potatoes and carrots, and mushrooms whose skin seemed to be the same color as that of deep space.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> seems less enthusiastic, though the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> seems almost over the moon. "<span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> take it <span style="color: #c248ac">you</span> want to try some local cuisine?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> asks. "How many chances would <span style="color: #643b94">we</span> ever have to eat something like this again?" The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> responds, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> laughs a bit, "Okay. What do <span style="color: #c248ac">you</span> want us to get?" The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> studies the menu and finds something that seems interesting. "How about the seasonal berry bowl?" "That sounds wonderful." The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> smiles, enjoying their second date.</p> <p>Less than a minute after they order a waiter comes and gives them a massive bowl of assorted berries and fruits. Some are normal, such as blueberries, strawberries, banana slices, and grapes. But others neither have ever even seen before. Such as tiny red berries that made them laugh while eating, small berries that seemed to have constellations within, and what seemed like small lemons though the lemons were sweet instead of tart.</p> <p>After their short lunch the two leave to go walking through the town, though interestingly as they walk the town continues to shift around <span style="color: #af6efa">them</span> in a near-endless expanse. Whenever <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> went to turn back, the space behind them seemed to transform into a completely different part of town. Despite this, the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> do not worry as Sjhlfels was so far a wonderful place. Out of nowhere, the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> grabs the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow's</span> hand and runs to a tiny store, giddy to go window shopping in the new town. As the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> walk inside they see a small selection of trinkets and dresses. After a bit of window shopping the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> heads for the door, though the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> stops for a second to buy a metallic ball as a gift for <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span>.</p> <hr/> <p>As the <span style="color: #af6efa">couple</span> stepped outside, the landscape shifted again to being in the middle of a campsite in the woods. As the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> walks ahead the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> tries to catch up while almost tripping in <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> dress. "Hey! Wait up!" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> pants as the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> slows down to let <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> catch up. As the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> catches <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> breath, she holds up the metal sphere. "<span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span>. Got. Something. For. <span style="color: #c248ac">You.</span>" <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> sputters out in between pants.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> grabs the sphere and wraps the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> in a hug. "Awww. Thank you!" The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> blushes until the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> lets go and starts to toy with the ball until finally finding a button on it which she presses. The ball instantly starts to transform and shift into a copper-colored butterfly that flaps its wings. At first, its wings move slowly until the beating shakes the copper automaton. Finally, its wings begin to lift it up as the butterfly hovers off of <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> hands. While the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> admire the creation, it flies towards the woods and zips across a forest trail. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> snatches the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow's</span> arm and pursues the butterfly. "Come on! After it!".</p> <p>The <span style="color: #af6efa">pair</span> tries to catch up with the butterfly, but it continues off of the stone path along a strong river with magnificent fish skidding along the surface until they reach a hill that the butterfly flies to the top of. The <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> quickly make chase up the side of the hill, though what seems like a small hill at first quickly transforms into a mountain as <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> can never quite get closer to the peak. When <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> finally reach the platform that the butterfly is on, it beats its wings again and flutters across the sign of the mountain. "Why won't you stay put!?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> exclaims. "Well, at least it is waiting for us before it goes further." The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> teases with a slight laugh.</p> <p>After what felt like hours of chasing, the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> finally manage to find it stuck in a bush. "HAH! Not able to run away now are you?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> says elatedly. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> walks up and grabs the butterfly pressing a button nestled betwixt its wings, turning it off. <span style="color: #af6efa">They</span> sit down in the shade of the trees overlooking a massive valley needing a break to catch their breath. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> lays down on the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven's</span> lap, taking a short nap while the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> looks and the beautiful valley in front of her.</p> <p>When the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> finally wakes, she lets out a yawn before looking around. "How long was <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> out?" she asks. "Only for a few hours." The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> replies, standing up. "You know, the plants here are unlike any others I've ever seen. At least not in any botanical books I have read. I wonder if they could have any medical use." The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> states, placing several samples of the herbs in vials. "Wow. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> of all people believe in pseudoscience?" the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> teases. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> sighs, "<span style="color: #c248ac">You</span> do know that many herbs do have accepted medical use? Right?" The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> laughs a bit. "Yeah yeah whatever." <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> stares at the sunset, realizing it is getting rather late. "I think we should start heading back now. Come on.". <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> grabs her butterfly and scoops up the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> in her arms as hundreds of wings emerge from <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> back flying the <span style="color: #af6efa">\|two</span> away from the shifting valley, back into the French countryside.</p> <hr/> <p>The <span style="color: #af6efa">couple</span> made their way to a small settlement of a few thousand named Langres in eastern France. With it in the dead of the night, the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> booked a hotel room to share until morning. The tired clerk stares at them for a second, pondering if a demon made out of hundreds of birds and a woman in medieval cosplay just flew from the sky to book a room. "Hello sir! <span style="color: #af6efa">We</span> would like a room for one please." The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> requests. The clerk nods and gives them a room key before guiding them to <span style="color: #af6efa">their</span> room.</p> <p>As <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> dress down and prepare to sleep, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> sits down at a desk and studies the samples she took from Sjhlfels am Rein. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> stays awake for several hours analyzing each minute detail of the herbs, until with confidence she mixes them together with other medicine from her suitcase to create a new experimental antibody. In the meanwhile, the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> was sitting on a chair watching TV channels until the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> got up, done with <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> work. "So, what did <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span> make?" the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> asks, curious. "<span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> made a medicine from the herbs. With this, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> will finally cure the pestilence!" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> stated, determined to make her centuries of work finally pay off. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> and <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> turn off the lights and tuck into their bed, closing their eyes and cuddling next to each other after the long and tiring day. Eventually, <span style="color: #af6efa">both</span> falling asleep.</p> <hr/> <p>The <span style="color: #af6efa">couple</span> woke up deep into the morning, both exhausted from the day before. As the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> got up and stretched with a yawn <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> looked over at the little metal butterfly on the nightstand beside her. A little souvenir of the hike the day prior. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> looked over and saw the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> already awake, in full medical gear. "Did <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span> get any sleep last night?" "Why would <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> need sleep when I am so close to finishing <span style="color: #5e5ef2">my</span> life's work?" the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> replies. "Besides, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> got a few hours. That is all that <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> need for the day."</p> <p>The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> sighs but does not protest further. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> knows that <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> best day is mere hours away from happening. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> gets dressed and packs the few things she had. "Well? Are <span style="color: #5e5ef2">you</span> ready to go out?" the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> inquires, and the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> nods. Walking out the door, going towards the busy streets.</p> <p>The <span style="color: #af6efa">pair</span> venture through the town looking for any patient desperately in need of a cure. Of course, everyone that passed <span style="color: #af6efa">them</span> had some extent of the disease, but <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> couldn't risk another person falling to the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span> within the town as she was curing mostly healthy victims. But alas, <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> couldn't find a patient within the end of the day. As the night overcomes the daylight the <span style="color: #af6efa">two</span> began to walk back through the streets which by then had lost much of their business. The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> witnesses an elderly man walking through the streets, coughing. <span style="color: #c248ac">She</span> tugs at <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> sleeve and points towards the man. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> immediately knows that the man is suffering from an advanced case of the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span> and likely has mere hours left to live.</p> <p><span style="color: #af6efa">Both</span> of them quickly got the the man's sides and helped carry him to a small abandoned hut along the outskirts of the city. <span style="color: #af6efa">They</span> set him down on a table and began to examine him. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> had to focus all of <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> effort on being a <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> to save the man's life.</p> <p>The <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span> is not akin to other diseases such as the flu, the cold, or even cancer as it is instead a connection to a malignant entity that has been plotting a horrific fate for the human race for millennia. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> had been trying for centuries to find a way to sever this connection to save <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> patients, but alas the entity seemed to cause them to die every single time the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> got close to saving them. But this time would be different. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> knew it would be. But <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> still hesitated, worried that she might not even be able to cure <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> patient even with the new medicine. Though all doubt stopped when <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> felt a <span style="color: #c248ac">hand</span> go on <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> shoulder. "<span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> got this. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">You</span> can do this!". The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> nodded and began to prepare to save the man.</p> <hr/> <p>The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> placed a wet towel on the man's head to help with his fever. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> took off the man's shirt and quickly shaved a small square on the elderly man's chest. As the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> was sanitizing his chest area <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> gave the elderly man a tonic from within <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> suitcase in order to let the man sleep through the surgery and feel no pain. As he went to bed, the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> lit many candles around the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> so she would have plenty of light. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> smiled and put on <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> mask, in the shape of a medieval plague doctor's outfit. A callback from a bygone era for which <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> quest to cure the <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span> began. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> gathered <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> breath and lowered her medical tools, preparing to make the first incision.</p> <p>As the hours tick by the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> gets closer and closer to curing the man. The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> prepares and makes the last necessary incisions before closing the openings and stitching the wounds back together. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> holds her breath as she gives the man the vial of the herbal mix <span style="color: #5e5ef2">she</span> had gathered from the valley and gently allows him to wake up from the surgery on his own over the next few hours.</p> <p>As he finally awoke several hours later, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> walked up and examined the man. She looked into his eyes for any trace of the evil entity that had possessed oh so much of humanity but couldn't see anything. Even just a few hours after surgery the man was already showing signs of recovery. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> began to jump up giddily, taking off <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span> mask and hugging the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> closely. "<span style="color: #af6efa">We</span> did it!" The <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Doctor</span> exclaimed. <span style="color: #5e5ef2">She</span> laughed, knowing her cure had been a success after all of these years. As the night progressed into day, the <span style="color: #643b94">two</span> helped the elderly man make it back to his family. Finally having been cured of the pestilence.</p> <p><span style="color: #af6efa">They</span> left the man's house, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> looking at the <span style="color: #c248ac">woman</span> in front of <span style="color: #5e5ef2">her</span>. Perhaps overexcited from finally creating the cure, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> leans in and gives <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> a kiss on the mouth. For which, <span style="color: #c248ac">she</span> responds in kind. After minutes of making out, the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span> pauses and stares into <span style="color: #c248ac">her</span> eyes. "<span style="color: #c248ac">You</span> know, <span style="color: #5e5ef2">I</span> used up most of my herbs creating the medicine for the man. Perhaps <span style="color: #af6efa">we</span> should go back to the valley to gather more?" "Well… In case you forgot, <span style="color: #af6efa">we</span> only found those herbs after getting drunk on a date." the <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> stated, looking lovingly at the <span style="color: #5e5ef2">Crow</span>. "Well then. I guess <span style="color: #af6efa">we</span> have no choice but to go on another date~ maybe tonight?" The <span style="color: #c248ac">Raven</span> giggles at the suggestion. "It's a date."</p> <p>As the <span style="color: #af6efa">lovebirds</span> embrace each other again, <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> walk to a restaurant, having almost everything <span style="color: #af6efa">they</span> could want. Ready to save the world from <span style="color: silver">pestilence</span>, <span style="color: #af6efa">together</span>.</p> <div class="licensebox"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">‡ Hide Licensing / Citation</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Cite this page as:</p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <blockquote> <p>"<a href="/the-conspiracy-to-murder">The Conspiracy to Murder</a>" by VapidPoem, Einer von Rabe, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-conspiracy-to-murder">https://scpwiki.com/the-conspiracy-to-murder</a>. Licensed under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC-BY-SA</a>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> <p>For information on how to use this component, see the <a href="/component:license-box">License Box component</a>. To read about licensing policy, see the <a href="/licensing-guide">Licensing Guide</a>.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:ragnarok-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:ragnarok-theme</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-title: "The Conspiracy to Murder "; --header-subtitle: "The Story of the Love between the Raven and the Crow"; --lgurl: none; --accentColor: #e8abed; --headerColor: #be1ee6; } #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[user Einer von Rabe]] and [[user VapidPoem]] [[/div]] [[[scp-2106\|She]]] flew over the landscape with two hundred wings. ##c248ac \| She## gazed at the silhouettes below ##c248ac \|her## with a hundred pairs of eyes. ##c248ac \| She## has many consciousnesses, but they all form one spirit - ##c248ac \|Her## spirit. Many of ##c248ac \|her## beaks open and emit a cry. A cry for help that becomes a cry of warning. ##c248ac \| She## could almost feel the fear of the ground-bound fleeing the swarm. ##c248ac \| She## is an omen of doom. ##c248ac \| She## does not want to be this, but ##c248ac \|she## understands. ##c248ac \| She## does not understand who ##c248ac \|she## is now. It was different from when ##c248ac \|she## was few. Is this the hereafter? Purgatory? Perhaps a punishment for something? ##c248ac \| She## is scared. ##c248ac \| She## is not frightened. ##c248acc248ac \| She## is lost. ------ [[[scp-049\|The doctor]]] gently dabs the wound with cotton wool. ##5e5ef2 \|Her## black, ancient-looking face mask has something of a crow about it, which is not entirely at odds with the ##5e5ef2 \| doctor's## aura. Like one of the winged scavengers, ##5e5ef2 \|she## bends over the half-dead body of one of her patients, a young man with a high fever. There is a barely perceptible trembling and hesitation in the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor's## movements. ##5e5ef2 \|She## wants her research to succeed. They must. Helplessly, ##5e5ef2 \|she## suppresses the panic that one false move or too high a dose of ##5e5ef2 \|her## tincture would ruin all the effort. Ruin it, as it has done too often. The eyes of ##5e5ef2 \|her## patient's family stab into ##5e5ef2 \|her## like rusty needles, as if they want the Doctor to fail. It's all paranoia, but the wariness towards the strange foreign ##5e5ef2 \|woman## is real. The Doctor is aware of her ##5e5ef2 \|her## eccentricity. Therefore, it must not fail. It can't fail. ------ ##c248acc248ac \| She## is carried high by a wind, almost so high that ##c248ac \|she## could be above the clouds. The wind carries her across the wide blue of the Atlantic to the east. ##c248ac \| She## feels the chill on thousands of feathers, but it is more like a gentle caress from a friend. ##c248ac \| She## notices that she enjoys flying. A hundred wings beating to a song that only ##c248ac \|she## perceives. ##c248ac \| She## forgets the terror she brought with ##c248ac \|her## mass, for up here ##c248ac \|she## is alone with her thoughts. ##c248ac \| She## thinks about what draws ##c248ac \|her## to Europe. It is a feeling that ##c248ac \|she## is missing something and that over there is that something. Perhaps it is the answer to what ##c248ac \|she## is. No matter what it is, ##c248ac \|she## is filled with an immense anticipation and bliss for which ##c248ac \|she## doesn't care what it can be. ------ ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## limps wheezing down the country road. A road sign welcomes ##5e5ef2 \| her## to the town of [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bitche Bitche]. A small cozy settlement along the Franco-German border. ##5e5ef2 \| She## shivers from anger and frustration. ##5e5ef2 \| She## was so close, so damn close to the solution, a cure. ##5e5ef2 \| She## reaches the city boundary and follows the signs to the center. ##5e5ef2 \| Her## mask hangs around ##5e5ef2 \|her## neck. ##5e5ef2 \|Her## outfit draws attention to ##5e5ef2 \|her##, as is to be expected. ##5e5ef2 \| She## pretends not to notice. Playing it down, as if ##5e5ef2 \|she## is on her way to a live-action role-playing Renaissance fair, even though ##5e5ef2 \|she## has no idea if there would actually be people like her walking around. ##5e5ef2 \| She## maneuvers herself into a street restaurant and sinks into a chair. ##5e5ef2 \|She## slides the suitcase between ##5e5ef2 \|her## legs and puts ##5e5ef2 \|her## skirt over it to conceal it a little. A young waiter saunters up to ##5e5ef2 \|her## and looks at ##5e5ef2 \|her## questioningly. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## taps one of the pictures with the juices, barely paying attention to what ##5e5ef2 \|she## ordered. Mere minutes after ordering the waiter returned with an Orangina Rouge, which made the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## hesitate for a moment, but in the end ##5e5ef2 \|she## decides that ##5e5ef2 \|she## could try something new. ##5e5ef2 \|She## sucked on the straw and pulled a snout. Much too sweet and sour. ------ ##c248ac \| She## crosses the border from the long and peaceful Atlantic to the coasts of Spain. ##c248ac \|She## flies over the land, over the rivers, over the deserts, over the mountains. As ##c248ac \|she## looks down ##c248ac \|she## sees the people, once again terrified of ##c248ac \|her## mere shadow. ##c248ac \| She## sighs as ##c248ac \|her## peace over the sea is gone. The screams start to fade as ##c248ac \|she## flies through the land, over the towering Pyrenees toward the voice that seems to sound like what ##c248ac \|she## longed for. As ##c248ac \|she## got closer ##c248ac \|she## heard the beautiful song. As soon as ##c248ac \|she## heard it her mind forgot any stress or panic from those who judged ##c248ac \|her##. ##c248ac \|She## tried to fly faster, and as the sound got louder ##c248ac \|she## knew ##c248ac \|she## was getting closer. ------ The sting of failure from ##5e5ef2 \|her## earlier patient cuts deep. ##5e5ef2 \|She## was only one step away from saving the patient. One* damn step. ##5e5ef2 \|She## is sure of it! ##5e5ef2 \| She## had devoted ##5e5ef2 \|her## life to finding a cure for it only to fail patient after patient as ##5e5ef2 \|she## roamed through Europe trying to save as many lives as ##5e5ef2 \|she## could. ##5e5ef2 \| She## drank deep into the night trying to think of what went wrong. Drinking ##5e5ef2 \|her## angers and sorrows away. ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## eventually leaves the tavern, leaving a few notes to pay for the sour drink as ##5e5ef2 \|she## wandered down the streets of the town 'till ##5e5ef2 \|she## finally spotted a hotel. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## goes in and rents a room for the night, although ##5e5ef2 \|she## couldn't get much sleep. It is still bothering her as to what could possibly be wrong with her cure after all of these centuries. Early in the morning. ##5e5ef2 \|she## departs to wander through the misty streets of the town. ------ As ##c248ac \|she## flew through the night ##c248ac \|she## couldn't help but feel the calm wash over her as the people below went to sleep and ##c248ac \|she## was once again left alone in the sky with nothing but ##c248ac \|her## thoughts. But as ##c248ac \|she## soared through the sky ##c248ac \|she## heard a lone cry replacing the wonderful music with the sorrowful crying. ##c248ac \|Her## hundreds of wings work in unison to race towards the source and comfort the voice whose pain sounded all too familiar. As the sun started to rise ##c248ac \|she## found the source of the sound was within a small village, though it was covered in a thick mist. ##c248ac \|She## began to descend and fly low throughout the town. Then ##c248ac \|she## saw ##5e5ef2 \|her##. They looked much the same but yet so different. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## was walking over the stone paths and ##5e5ef2 \| she## could tell that the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## was the source of the pained cries. ------ ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## had been lost in ##5e5ef2 \|her## thoughts a short time ago, but now ##5e5ef2 \|she## was examining the ##c248ac \|conspiracy of ravens## that had appeared in the sky. ##5e5ef2 \|She## had had a very brief encounter with these fascinating birds. When under the cover of night during wars ##5e5ef2 \|she## would scavenge the corpses of the deceased from war fields and mass graves. Not exactly an activity ##5e5ef2 \|she## was proud of, but one ##5e5ef2 \|she## deemed a justifiable evil as it helped ##5e5ef2 \|her## in ##5e5ef2 \|her## quest. ##5e5ef2 \| She## shielded ##5e5ef2 \|her## eyes from the mid-morning sun as ##5e5ef2 \|she## had taken off ##5e5ef2 \|her## hat. The size of the swarm is unusual and concerning, and as far as ##5e5ef2 \|she## can tell, the individual animals are also more bulky. One of the largest almost reached the wingspan of an eagle. ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## dabbled only peripherally in ornithology, but the ##c248ac \|conspiracy's## flight pattern was very noticeably focused. ##5e5ef2 \| She## takes a look around for a possible reason. There is no one to be seen around for miles. No farms, no food laying about, no corpses. Only ##5e5ef2 \|her##. ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## grabs ##5e5ef2 \|her## suitcase and clutches ##5e5ef2 \|her## hat to ##5e5ef2 \|her## head before ##5e5ef2 \|she## starts to sprint. The shrieking of the ravens grows louder as the flock descends. @@ @@ ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor's## steps become heavier until ##5e5ef2 \|she## has to come to a stop, gasping heavily. ##5e5ef2 \|She## is so drained that ##5e5ef2 \|her## breath only comes out of ##5e5ef2 \|her## mouth in wheezes. ##5e5ef2 \|She## had not managed to shake off the ravens, but some distance lay between them. ------ ##c248ac \| The Raven## saw the poor ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## running through the stone brick streets of the small town, struggling to keep ##5e5ef2 \|her## suitcase in ##5e5ef2 \|her## hands and ##5e5ef2 \|her## hat on ##5e5ef2 \|her## head. ##c248ac \| She## descended and attempted to come closer to the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## to provide comfort. ##c248ac \| She## couldn't afford to let another soul experience the same pain and longing ##c248ac \| she## had always felt. Not while being so close to helping them. After what seemed like an eternity the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## finally slowed until reaching a halt. Though the distance was great the ##c248ac \|Raven## easily glided over the path towards the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow##. As ##c248ac \| the Raven## moved to the sole ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## ##c248ac \|she## began to unite ##c248ac \|her## form into that of a human. With a tall figure that easily towers over the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## in front of ##c248ac \|her##. ------ ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## realized the ravens were still chasing ##5e5ef2 \|her##, and after mere seconds the distance had closed. With a dash, the ##5e5ef2 \| Doctor## ran further throughout the town. As the mist cleared the small rays of sun were blocked by clouds, which cried the first tears of rain. ##5e5ef2 \| The Doctor## dashed for any cover ##5e5ef2 \|she## found that most doors were closed. Likely trying to shun ##5e5ef2 \|her## and leave ##5e5ef2 \|her## to ##5e5ef2 \|her## fate with the ##c248ac \|conspiracy##. Eventually ##5e5ef2 \| the Doctor## came across a bridge outside the city, hiding under it as ##5e5ef2 \|she## tried to seek shelter. Alas, ##5e5ef2 \| the Doctor## tripped over a cobblestone and by then was too exhausted to try to catch ##5e5ef2 \|herself##. ##5e5ef2 \| She## almost expects the ravens to swoop down on ##5e5ef2 \|her##. But ##5e5ef2 \| she## didn't feel the hard stone floor. ##5e5ef2 \| She## feels ##5e5ef2 \|herself## being raised up and a large, warm, black mass enveloped her. Feathers rustled and a soft and gently raspy voice whispered, "Do not fear. ##c248ac \|I## have found ##5e5ef2 \| you##, Beloved." ------ It had recently started pouring out of buckets, so the ##5e5ef2 \| doctor## had to take shelter in a barn. ##5e5ef2 \| She## is shivering now in a pile of straw on a higher floor because ##5e5ef2 \| she## is completely soaked to the bone. The strange bird creature takes one last look outside, closes the gate, and rustlingly steps towards ##5e5ef2 \|her##. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## perceives the creature's appearance for the first time. The body is covered in blue-black feathers and is similar to that of a human, although much larger. On its shoulders sits a head with a woman's face framed by brown curls that stand out in a strange way against the black. The little bit of skin that can be seen was tanned. With one of her hands, the ##c248ac \|Raven## caresses ##5e5ef2 \|her## forehead. "Oh, you're all icy. Come now, get into new clothes or you'll catch a cold." The ##c248ac \|Raven## notices the doctor's displeasure, and tries to reassure her ##5e5ef2 \|her##. "Don't worry, is not going to judge you, Darling.“, ##c248ac \|she## teases in broken French. After coaxing ##c248ac \|her## "patient" to change into a beige linen dress they found hanging in the barn, ##c248ac \|she## drapes a military wool blanket over the ##5e5ef2 \|doctor##, which ##c248ac \|she## had found in a crate, and snuggles up to ##5e5ef2 \|her## in the straw. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## does not dare to fight back, but recognizes that the mysterious ##c248ac \|monster## is //more// than affable of ##5e5ef2 \|her##. Nevertheless, ##5e5ef2 \| she## is embarrassed to lay cuddled up together with ##c248ac \|her ## in a stranger's barn trying to get warm. ##5e5ef2 \|Her## eyes close and ##5e5ef2 \| she## drifts off into a deep sleep. ------ ##af6efa\| They## both awake nearly in unison with each other. By then the sun had started to shift into night. ##af6efa\| They## both got dressed and left for the town, although the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## seems annoyed at the ##c248ac\|monster's## presence. "Why are ##c248ac\|you## following ##5e5ef2 \|me##?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## asked the presence behind ##5e5ef2 \|her##. Instead of answering, the ##c248ac\|monster## simply giggled and continued to walk behind ##5e5ef2 \|her##. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## sighed, and walked into the town, searching for a patient. After hours of searching through the night, she found a tiny house buried deep in the countryside with her patient inside. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## walked into the house finding an elderly man lying on a bed. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## could sense that the man was obviously sick with the ##silver\|pestilence##. As the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## tried to work on curing the man, the ##c248ac\|monster## periodically arrived with gifts of cloth, candles, and medicine from the town. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## nodded in gratitude and proceeded with the operation to save the poor man from the ##silver\|pestilence##. As the hours ticked by and the night grew darker the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow's## work seemed to be coming closer and closer to a final success! The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## came ever so close to finally perfecting ##5e5ef2 \|her## cure, only for it to fail at the last second. The patient succumbed to the ##silver\|pestilence## right before ##5e5ef2 \|her## operation could save him. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## let out a scream in frustration that could be heard across the entire countryside. As the sting of failure washed over ##5e5ef2 \|her##. ##5e5ef2 \|she## felt a warm ##c248ac\|presence## comfort her. A hug from the ##c248ac\|monster## behind ##5e5ef2 \|her##. As the ##af6efa\| two## left the house the sun began to rise. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## and the ##c248ac\|Raven## left in somber while going to the city. ------ People discreetly tried to avoid the ##af6efa\| pair## as they were walking, not infrequently making signs of the cross. Mothers had already called their children back before ##af6efa\|they## even came by. The ##c248acc248ac \|Raven## did not seem to care, as ##c248ac \|she## happily kept walking behind the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow##, occasionally plucking a flower from a window ledge and placing it in the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow##'s hair and ##5e5ef2 \|her## hat. By the time they were done a bonnet of flowers decorated ##5e5ef2 \|her## hair. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor##, on the other hand, has some difficulty in carrying out her activities, such as buying provisions and utensils and concentrating on finding possible victims of the ##silver\|pestilence##. @@ @@ The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## sits down on one of the benches that have been placed on a hill. All the walking had made ##5e5ef2 \|her## tired. The ##c248ac \|Raven## hardly seems tired and hums a melody. "I'm so glad ##5e5ef2 \|you're## finally having a rest. All that doctoring around looks very draining," ##c248ac \|she## says, "Here, have something to eat. ##5e5ef2 \|You## look very pale." The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## looks at the thing the ##c248ac\|monster## is holding out to ##5e5ef2 \|her##, which ##c248ac\|she## had apparently pulled out of the folds of ##c248ac\|her## plumage. It was a round and juicy apple. "Where did you get it?" "A child gifted it to me." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## eyes the ##c248ac \|Raven## skeptically, which makes her look sheepish, but ##5e5ef2 \|she## accepts the fruit. ##5e5ef2 \|She## retrieves a knife from ##5e5ef2 \|her## pocket and cuts the apple into thin slices. ##5e5ef2 \|She## hands one half to ##5e5ef2 \|her## friend. "Here, let's ##af6efa\|share## it." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## smiles and so does the ##c248ac \|Raven##. ------ The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## drags herself along the country road towards the border of the Republic. ##5e5ef2 \|She## is worn out and ##5e5ef2 \|her## clothes are soaked with sweat and filth from working all day in the battle against the pestilence. "'Darling. ##5e5ef2 \|You## are straining yourself. Let ##c248ac \|me## help ##5e5ef2 \|you##" "Help comes too late. All are dead" the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## mumbles, barely audible and delirious. Then ##5e5ef2 \|she## slumps down. The ##c248ac \|Raven## takes ##5e5ef2 \|her## to the wayside and dabs the sweat from ##c248ac \|her## friend's forehead. "Let me help ##5e5ef2 \|you##," ##c248ac \|she## repeats, "Climb on my back." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## is too weak to even put up any resistance. As soon as ##5e5ef2 \|she## had found a place on the back, ##5e5ef2 \|her## friend said: "Hold on tight now“. With a cracking and rustling sound, the ##c248ac \|Raven## takes on ##c248ac \|her## other form and opens ##c248ac \|her## wings, now larger and one pair instead of hundreds. "Wha-wha-what?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## could barely manage to stammer before the ##af6efa\| two## of them flew towards the sky. ------ As the ##af6efa\| two## soared among the clouds ##af6efa\| they## stared at the world beneath them. Seemingly so peaceful, although the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## knew all too well about the dangers the world faced. That is why ##5e5ef2 \|she## had to cure the poor suffering souls beneath her. As ##af6efa\| they## descended, the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## was confused to find them at a different location than the farm the two had slept within. "Where have you taken me? What are you doing?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## asked, but the ##c248ac \|Raven## simply giggled and let the two down at a small cafe. "##c248ac \|I## am taking ##5e5ef2 \|you## on a date. ##5e5ef2 \|You## need a break, you have worked too long and too hard without rest." ##c248ac \| she## said as ##c248ac \| she## orders two coffees for both of them. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## sheepishly orders a bowl of bread from the waitress for the two to split and sink back against her chair. "Fine. But only for a few minutes, ##5e5ef2 \|I## need to focus on the cure." The ##c248ac \|Raven## laughs. "##5e5ef2 \|You## need to spend at least 30 minutes relaxing. It will work wonders! You are a doctor you should know this!" The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## grits her teeth and accepts the "date" the ##c248ac \|Raven## has decided to take her on. As the waitress comes back with their basket and coffee while she takes out her notebook and a pen and asks, "Anything else I can get you ##af6efa\|two##?" The ##c248ac \|Raven## speaks up first, "I'll take a French onion soup and a bottle of red wine." The waitress nods and turns to look at the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow##. "I'll just have the same soup." The waitress nods and walks back to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. The ##c248ac \|Raven## pours herself a glass and takes a few sips. @@ @@ After 10 minutes the waitress walked out with steaming hot bowls of soup that looked enough to make ##af6efa\|their## mouths water. The cheese looked perfectly browned and the scent was almost intoxicating. The ##c248ac \|Raven## quickly tried to dig in but realized her mistake all too late as the food almost burnt her tongue. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## giggled and handed her her cup of water to cool it down. "Perhaps it may be smart to wait a few seconds~". The ##c248ac \|Raven## laughs at herself, "Perhaps." After ##af6efa\|their## food cools down at least slightly the ##643b94\|two## dig in, enjoying every bite. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## notices the ##c248ac \|Raven## is getting rather tipsy, and so ##5e5ef2 \|she## tries to set a hand down on ##c248ac \|hers##, "Perhaps ##af6efa\|we## should go home. It is rather late~" The ##c248ac \|Raven## sighs but accepts. "Okaaaaaay..... Buuuuuuuuut you should drink some of this." She held up the bottle, half of the wine still remaining. "We don't want it to go to waste!" the ##c248ac \|Raven## drunkenly laughed and put the bottle in ##5e5ef2 \|her## hand before leaning against her shoulder. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## struggles to keep the ##c248ac \|Raven## up but obliges and takes a small sip. She is surprised as her last drink from the town left her with a sour and bitter flavor. But in contrast, the new drink left her with a feeling of warm happiness. As her small tastes turn into more sips the feeling inside her only gets warmer and warmer, until the ##af6efa\|two## are frolicking through the streets, In that moment they couldn't care less about what anyone thought or said about them. Not even the waitress yelling at them that silver coins were not a valid currency and they still needed to pay could distract the ##af6efa\|two##. Before ##5e5ef2 \|she## knew it, the rest of the bottle was gone and the ##af6efa\|two## were drunk on the street in each other's clutches. With it now dark in the night the ##c248ac \|Raven## perhaps out of drunkenness begins to extend her hundreds of wings again, scooping up the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## in ##c248ac \|her## arms as ##af6efa\|they## fly high into the refreshing night air. ------ "My skull hurts so much …" the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## whines, "What possessed me to get drunk …?" "Do you want an honest answer?" "No, ##5e5ef2 \|I## can guess. Why don't you have a hangover?" ##5e5ef2 \|Her## friend points to a clump of corvids. Some are holding onto branches from a bush while lying on their backs on the ground. Others rolled down a slope. But the majority are lying on top of a big hill. "'Neat trick'" The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## rummages in ##5e5ef2 \|her## bag and takes out an ointment, which ##5e5ef2 \|she## smears all over ##5e5ef2 \|her## face. The ##c248ac \|Raven## watches ##5e5ef2 \|her## with wonder. "//Papaver Somniferum// ointment," the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## explained. "Where are we, anyway?" "An excellent question." The ##c248ac \|Raven## replies. "No idea." ------ The odd ##af6efa\|couple## had been walking on a mountainside path for about an hour and a half. However stunning the scenery, it doesn't change the fact that ##af6efa\|they## are helpless to figure out where ##af6efa\|they## found themselves again after a hazy night. "##5e5ef2 \|I'm## never going on a date with ##c248ac \|you## again." "Oh come on, don't be so mean, Darling. ##5e5ef2 \|You## clearly enjoyed last night." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## grumbles something before kneeling down and studying the herbarium. "The plants here are rather astonishing. We are near the Alps, but none of them fit my collection" The ##c248ac \|Raven## crouches down next to ##5e5ef2 \|her## and looks over ##5e5ef2 \|her## shoulder. "Nice collection. ##5e5ef2 \|You## really are a little nerd" "##5e5ef2 \|I'm## a doctor, what did ##c248ac \|you## expect?" "Touché" The ##c248ac \|Raven## gives the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## a shove against the shoulder. "##c248ac \|I## could be wrong, but is that a signpost there?" "It certainly wasn't there ten minutes ago." ------ The ##af6efa\|couple## had followed the path and saw a town in the distance. According to the signpost, ##af6efa\|they## seem to be on their way to [*/locations-of-interest#sjhlfels Sjhlfels am Rhein]. The farmhouses that can be seen from the gravel road have an interesting mix of Swiss and Dutch-Belgian architecture, which were not infrequently found on hilltops. The majority of the grazing animals are familiar species such as cows, sheep, and goats, but occasionally there were creatures that neither the ##c248ac \|Raven## nor the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## could give a name to. @@ @@ The city limits are bordered by a dry stone wall on which children of different cultures frolic with their pets. A small tollhouse stands at the gate, but the man inside waves the ##af6efa\|two## of them through with a big smile. Perplexing ##af6efa\|them## as the guard took no toll. "That was quick," remarks the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow##, "##af6efa\|We## must have wandered around for an hour and now ##af6efa\|we're## standing in a city." Then ##5e5ef2 \|she## notices how much the ##c248ac \|Raven## has fallen into amazement. In fact, Sjhlfels has a very peculiar aura: the houses with flats and shops have a style all their own, where you can see the original cultures, not only from Central Europe and ordinary cultures. Next to a terraced brick house, there could be a twisting tower of glass and steel. There is also no homogeneous clothing culture: linen shirts, hanbok, cowls, silk scarves, and much more were found. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## is sure that some people even wore leather garments with fringes that moved of their own accord. On the streets, Humans, Dwarves, and Albae walked alongside people with visible electronic implants and deformations and animal beings straight out of a fable. Even the geography is uncommon. Despite the clearly visible Alps, a wind blew sea air from the north through a fine mist. Bridges crossed small channels at regular intervals. It seemed as if a child, out of sheer enthusiasm, had built a city out of all the favorite sights from the holiday destinations they had visited, mixing reality with legends. The ##c248ac \|Raven## and the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## are now sitting in a café, blown away by it all. ------ The ##af6efa\|couple## looked over the menu given to them. Many of the items on it looked familiar enough, such as bread, milk, salads, and cake. But as they looked around much of the food the other restaurant-goers were eating seemed alien. Yellow-skinned fruits with green flesh, purple potatoes and carrots, and mushrooms whose skin seemed to be the same color as that of deep space. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## seems less enthusiastic, though the ##c248ac \|Raven## seems almost over the moon. "##5e5ef2 \|I## take it ##c248ac \|you## want to try some local cuisine?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## asks. "How many chances would ##643b94\|we## ever have to eat something like this again?" The ##c248ac \|Raven## responds, the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## laughs a bit, "Okay. What do ##c248ac \|you## want us to get?" The ##c248ac \|Raven## studies the menu and finds something that seems interesting. "How about the seasonal berry bowl?" "That sounds wonderful." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## smiles, enjoying their second date. Less than a minute after they order a waiter comes and gives them a massive bowl of assorted berries and fruits. Some are normal, such as blueberries, strawberries, banana slices, and grapes. But others neither have ever even seen before. Such as tiny red berries that made them laugh while eating, small berries that seemed to have constellations within, and what seemed like small lemons though the lemons were sweet instead of tart. After their short lunch the two leave to go walking through the town, though interestingly as they walk the town continues to shift around ##af6efa\|them## in a near-endless expanse. Whenever ##af6efa\|they## went to turn back, the space behind them seemed to transform into a completely different part of town. Despite this, the ##af6efa\|two## do not worry as Sjhlfels was so far a wonderful place. Out of nowhere, the ##c248ac \|Raven## grabs the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow's## hand and runs to a tiny store, giddy to go window shopping in the new town. As the ##af6efa\|two## walk inside they see a small selection of trinkets and dresses. After a bit of window shopping the ##c248ac \|Raven## heads for the door, though the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## stops for a second to buy a metallic ball as a gift for ##c248ac \|her##. ------ As the ##af6efa\|couple## stepped outside, the landscape shifted again to being in the middle of a campsite in the woods. As the ##c248ac \|Raven## walks ahead the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## tries to catch up while almost tripping in ##5e5ef2 \|her## dress. "Hey! Wait up!" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## pants as the ##c248ac \|Raven## slows down to let ##5e5ef2 \|her## catch up. As the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## catches ##5e5ef2 \|her## breath, she holds up the metal sphere. "##5e5ef2 \|I##. Got. Something. For. ##c248ac \|You.##" ##5e5ef2 \|She## sputters out in between pants. The ##c248ac \|Raven## grabs the sphere and wraps the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## in a hug. "Awww. Thank you!" The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## blushes until the ##c248ac \|Raven## lets go and starts to toy with the ball until finally finding a button on it which she presses. The ball instantly starts to transform and shift into a copper-colored butterfly that flaps its wings. At first, its wings move slowly until the beating shakes the copper automaton. Finally, its wings begin to lift it up as the butterfly hovers off of ##c248ac \|her## hands. While the ##af6efa\|two## admire the creation, it flies towards the woods and zips across a forest trail. The ##c248ac \|Raven## snatches the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow's## arm and pursues the butterfly. "Come on! After it!". The ##af6efa\|pair## tries to catch up with the butterfly, but it continues off of the stone path along a strong river with magnificent fish skidding along the surface until they reach a hill that the butterfly flies to the top of. The ##af6efa\|two## quickly make chase up the side of the hill, though what seems like a small hill at first quickly transforms into a mountain as ##af6efa\|they## can never quite get closer to the peak. When ##af6efa\|they## finally reach the platform that the butterfly is on, it beats its wings again and flutters across the sign of the mountain. "Why won't you stay put!?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## exclaims. "Well, at least it is waiting for us before it goes further." The ##c248ac \|Raven## teases with a slight laugh. After what felt like hours of chasing, the ##af6efa\|two## finally manage to find it stuck in a bush. "HAH! Not able to run away now are you?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## says elatedly. The ##c248ac \|Raven## walks up and grabs the butterfly pressing a button nestled betwixt its wings, turning it off. ##af6efa\|They## sit down in the shade of the trees overlooking a massive valley needing a break to catch their breath. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## lays down on the ##c248ac \|Raven's## lap, taking a short nap while the ##c248ac \|Raven## looks and the beautiful valley in front of her. When the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## finally wakes, she lets out a yawn before looking around. "How long was ##5e5ef2 \|I## out?" she asks. "Only for a few hours." The ##c248ac \|Raven## replies, standing up. "You know, the plants here are unlike any others I've ever seen. At least not in any botanical books I have read. I wonder if they could have any medical use." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## states, placing several samples of the herbs in vials. "Wow. ##5e5ef2 \|You## of all people believe in pseudoscience?" the ##c248ac \|Raven## teases. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## sighs, "##c248ac \|You## do know that many herbs do have accepted medical use? Right?" The ##c248ac \|Raven## laughs a bit. "Yeah yeah whatever." ##c248ac \|She## stares at the sunset, realizing it is getting rather late. "I think we should start heading back now. Come on.". ##c248ac \|She## grabs her butterfly and scoops up the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## in her arms as hundreds of wings emerge from ##c248ac \|her## back flying the ##af6efa\|\|two## away from the shifting valley, back into the French countryside. ------ The ##af6efa\|couple## made their way to a small settlement of a few thousand named Langres in eastern France. With it in the dead of the night, the ##af6efa\|two## booked a hotel room to share until morning. The tired clerk stares at them for a second, pondering if a demon made out of hundreds of birds and a woman in medieval cosplay just flew from the sky to book a room. "Hello sir! ##af6efa\|We## would like a room for one please." The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## requests. The clerk nods and gives them a room key before guiding them to ##af6efa\|their## room. As ##af6efa\|they## dress down and prepare to sleep, the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## sits down at a desk and studies the samples she took from Sjhlfels am Rein. ##5e5ef2 \|She## stays awake for several hours analyzing each minute detail of the herbs, until with confidence she mixes them together with other medicine from her suitcase to create a new experimental antibody. In the meanwhile, the ##c248ac \|Raven## was sitting on a chair watching TV channels until the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## got up, done with ##5e5ef2 \|her## work. "So, what did ##5e5ef2 \|you## make?" the ##c248ac \|Raven## asks, curious. "##5e5ef2 \|I## made a medicine from the herbs. With this, ##5e5ef2 \|I## will finally cure the pestilence!" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## stated, determined to make her centuries of work finally pay off. The ##c248ac \|Raven## and ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## turn off the lights and tuck into their bed, closing their eyes and cuddling next to each other after the long and tiring day. Eventually, ##af6efa\|both## falling asleep. ------ The ##af6efa\|couple## woke up deep into the morning, both exhausted from the day before. As the ##c248ac \|Raven## got up and stretched with a yawn ##c248ac \|she## looked over at the little metal butterfly on the nightstand beside her. A little souvenir of the hike the day prior. ##c248ac \|She## looked over and saw the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## already awake, in full medical gear. "Did ##5e5ef2 \|you## get any sleep last night?" "Why would ##5e5ef2 \|I## need sleep when I am so close to finishing ##5e5ef2 \|my## life's work?" the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## replies. "Besides, ##5e5ef2 \|I## got a few hours. That is all that ##5e5ef2 \|I## need for the day." The ##c248ac \|Raven## sighs but does not protest further. ##c248ac \|She## knows that ##5e5ef2 \|her## best day is mere hours away from happening. ##c248ac \|She## gets dressed and packs the few things she had. "Well? Are ##5e5ef2 \|you## ready to go out?" the ##c248ac \|Raven## inquires, and the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## nods. Walking out the door, going towards the busy streets. The ##af6efa\|pair## venture through the town looking for any patient desperately in need of a cure. Of course, everyone that passed ##af6efa\|them## had some extent of the disease, but ##5e5ef2 \|she## couldn't risk another person falling to the ##silver\|pestilence## within the town as she was curing mostly healthy victims. But alas, ##af6efa\|they## couldn't find a patient within the end of the day. As the night overcomes the daylight the ##af6efa\|two## began to walk back through the streets which by then had lost much of their business. The ##c248ac \|Raven## witnesses an elderly man walking through the streets, coughing. ##c248ac \|She## tugs at ##5e5ef2 \|her## sleeve and points towards the man. ##5e5ef2 \|She## immediately knows that the man is suffering from an advanced case of the ##silver\|pestilence## and likely has mere hours left to live. ##af6efa\|Both## of them quickly got the the man's sides and helped carry him to a small abandoned hut along the outskirts of the city. ##af6efa\|They## set him down on a table and began to examine him. The ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## had to focus all of ##5e5ef2 \|her## effort on being a ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## to save the man's life. The ##silver\|pestilence## is not akin to other diseases such as the flu, the cold, or even cancer as it is instead a connection to a malignant entity that has been plotting a horrific fate for the human race for millennia. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## had been trying for centuries to find a way to sever this connection to save ##5e5ef2 \|her## patients, but alas the entity seemed to cause them to die every single time the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## got close to saving them. But this time would be different. ##5e5ef2 \|She## knew it would be. But ##5e5ef2 \|she## still hesitated, worried that she might not even be able to cure ##5e5ef2 \|her## patient even with the new medicine. Though all doubt stopped when ##5e5ef2 \|she## felt a ##c248ac \|hand## go on ##5e5ef2 \|her## shoulder. "##5e5ef2 \|You## got this. ##5e5ef2 \|You## can do this!". The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## nodded and began to prepare to save the man. ------ The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## placed a wet towel on the man's head to help with his fever. ##5e5ef2 \|She## took off the man's shirt and quickly shaved a small square on the elderly man's chest. As the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## was sanitizing his chest area ##5e5ef2 \|she## gave the elderly man a tonic from within ##5e5ef2 \|her## suitcase in order to let the man sleep through the surgery and feel no pain. As he went to bed, the ##c248ac \|Raven## lit many candles around the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## so she would have plenty of light. ##5e5ef2 \|She## smiled and put on ##5e5ef2 \|her## mask, in the shape of a medieval plague doctor's outfit. A callback from a bygone era for which ##5e5ef2 \|her## quest to cure the ##silver\|pestilence## began. ##5e5ef2 \|She## gathered ##5e5ef2 \|her## breath and lowered her medical tools, preparing to make the first incision. As the hours tick by the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## gets closer and closer to curing the man. The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## prepares and makes the last necessary incisions before closing the openings and stitching the wounds back together. ##5e5ef2 \|She## holds her breath as she gives the man the vial of the herbal mix ##5e5ef2 \|she## had gathered from the valley and gently allows him to wake up from the surgery on his own over the next few hours. As he finally awoke several hours later, the ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## walked up and examined the man. She looked into his eyes for any trace of the evil entity that had possessed oh so much of humanity but couldn't see anything. Even just a few hours after surgery the man was already showing signs of recovery. ##5e5ef2 \|She## began to jump up giddily, taking off ##5e5ef2 \|her## mask and hugging the ##c248ac \|Raven## closely. "##af6efa\|We## did it!" The ##5e5ef2 \|Doctor## exclaimed. ##5e5ef2 \|She## laughed, knowing her cure had been a success after all of these years. As the night progressed into day, the ##643b94\|two## helped the elderly man make it back to his family. Finally having been cured of the pestilence. ##af6efa\|They## left the man's house, the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## looking at the ##c248ac \|woman## in front of ##5e5ef2 \|her##. Perhaps overexcited from finally creating the cure, the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## leans in and gives ##c248ac \|her## a kiss on the mouth. For which, ##c248ac \|she## responds in kind. After minutes of making out, the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow## pauses and stares into ##c248ac \|her## eyes. "##c248ac \|You## know, ##5e5ef2 \|I## used up most of my herbs creating the medicine for the man. Perhaps ##af6efa\|we## should go back to the valley to gather more?" "Well... In case you forgot, ##af6efa\|we## only found those herbs after getting drunk on a date." the ##c248ac \|Raven## stated, looking lovingly at the ##5e5ef2 \|Crow##. "Well then. I guess ##af6efa\|we## have no choice but to go on another date~ maybe tonight?" The ##c248ac \|Raven## giggles at the suggestion. "It's a date." As the ##af6efa\|lovebirds## embrace each other again, ##af6efa\|they## walk to a restaurant, having almost everything ##af6efa\|they## could want. Ready to save the world from ##silver\|pestilence##, ##af6efa\|together##. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=VapidPoem, Einer von Rabe]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-28T08:29:00	[ "_licensebox", "co-authored", "plague-doctor", "remixcon2023", "tale" ]	The Conspiracy to Murder - SCP Foundation	8	[ "scp-2106", "scp-049", "locations-of-interest#sjhlfels", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "remixcon2023" ]	[]	1449601502	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-conspiracy-to-murder

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